#Even so I do miss Transformers I had such a nice little niche carved out in my corner of the fandom

[shikai-the-storyteller]

"At least Transformers didn't have racism" I say 0.0005 seconds before remembering Transformers is, in fact, all about racism.

[mercurial-muses]

Meeting of the Minds

Valdyss has nearly completed her first phase of research into ley lines and places of magical power in Drustvar. I realized last night that, since a lot of that has been happening in one-on-one RP or 'off screen' completely, there's no way my Autumnhearth guildies and those who RP with us would know that. I'm posting this scene with my writing partner's permission to catch everyone up a little. As a bonus, y'all get to meet Faye's younger sister, Asta.

- - - - -

Valdyss may have met one of the Ladies of Frostfall, but the second remained apparently rather elusive.

Where Faye spent a good deal of time in her workshop, Asta was across the hall in the keep’s study. The other Lady Callahan slowly opened the door and took a step outside. Not out of caution, but because she was distracted. Another book sat open in her hand as she gradually walked out from the study. ‘Rumination on the Elements and Nature,’ read the title. Yet another way to feed her curiosity about the ways of nature based magic.

Asta frowned slightly as she went over one particular passage, moving down the hall with the sort of practiced, subconscious ease one might expect from a regular resident. She was headed towards the kitchen apparently, with the unconscious desire for food.

At least she was going to try and eat unlike someone else in the keep.

The portal behind Valdyss blinked from existence with a quiet whoosh, plunging the spacious guest room into darkness. A snap of the mage’s fingers conjured a tiny flame that hovered between them for a few seconds before it grew into a fiery ball the size of a marble and moved to levitate over her palm. The illumination it provided did little more than push back the shadows immediately in front of her, but it was enough light to allow her to get to the door without taking a header over anything that might be in her path.

Val opened the door with her free hand and, standing in a rectangle of light cast into the room from the hallway, she shook her other hand to extinguish the fire it held. She waved away a wisp of smoke as she stepped into the hallway… and very nearly right into a woman passing by the room. “Oh!” she yelped, unconsciously bringing a hand up to cover her galloping heart. “Light, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you coming.”

Asta subconsciously moved away from the sudden figure, but the yelp drew her eyes away from her text towards the mage. They were a much darker blue than Faye’s and currently filled with both alarm and confusion.

She shut the book in her hand sharply, giving Valdyss a once over. “That’s…fine. Who are you?” With the small number of servants they had, it wasn’t hard to recognize this was not one of their friends. And she couldn’t recognize her from the village either.

Nerd that she was, Val’s attention was almost immediately drawn to the book in the woman’s hand. That, combined with a beauty that was so familiar by now, made all the pieces click. “Asta?” she said, brow raised.

“Valdyss Duskbane, but Val’s fine.” The mage made a critical study of the other woman and, noting the alarm in her eyes, remained alert for sudden movements or any other signs of a fight. “I come in peace, I swear just don’t…” The fingers of her left hand wiggled in the general direction of the floor as she held her right one out in a defensive position. “Don’t root me, or whatever.”

Valdyss would have to look up to meet the woman's gaze, as Asta stood easily over 6' tall. The recognition was confusing up until Val introduced herself.

The alarm dropped from faintly familiar features. Asta's entire posture relaxed with a small huff. "You're Valdyss?" The younger Callahan asked, looking the mage over in a new light. She pursed her lips for a moment before humming with a shrug. "Mmm, I think I get it."

Nonetheless she offered a hand out towards Val. "I am Asta, yes. My apologies for the suspicion. I didn't recognize you, nor did I know you'd be visiting us today. Usually Faye warns me so I don't barge in and make a fool of her. Well, more than she already is anyhow."

Val grinned up at Asta as she took the younger Callahan’s hand in a firm grip. “I am indeed Valdyss.” She withdrew her hand and instead gripped the strap of her pack and pulled it a little higher on her shoulder. “And I am also at fault for you not being warned of my arrival. Faye’s not expecting me yet.”

A faint blush began to rise in the mage’s cheeks as she continued on. “I finished up earlier than expected in Dalaran and, um...” She paused, cleared her throat.

“Well, I was wandering around to kill time and came across a vendor selling a spiced liquor that I thought would add a nice kick to the Crackle n’ Apple.” Val’s hands moved as she spoke and her expression grew animated in her explanation. “And then I found this roasted pork tenderloin and thought that along with some brie would pair really well with the apple and-” Her words tapered off into a chuckle. Val shrugged. “And I didn’t want to wait any longer to see her, okay?”

An amused expression very similar to the one her sister often got grew across Asta's face. She just waved the fluster off with an easy gesture before turning.

"Then by all means: I was headed towards the kitchen anyways. I can help you make the drink and you'll get to kick in Faye's workshop door to make her eat this time. Stag knows you'll probably be a lot more appealing than me getting to lecture her again." Asta snorts, starting to walk off.

"Do you honestly think Faye takes issue with you interrupting her?" Val called to Asta's back as sped to catch up to the retreating woman. She fell into pace at her side and looked up at her. "Asta, your sister adores you."

Asta lets out a soft scoff. "Oh no, I don't really. Well. Most of the time." She corrects with a pause. "The one time she spilled Shroom Bloom on herself was a... very interesting incident." Despite that, there's a hint of fiendish delight that crosses Asta's expressions for a moment. But then it's gone, and she's looking to Valdyss.

"But I adore my sister as well. And if you do too, you'll know I essentially have to intrude or she'd be in there for hours without a drop of water."

“I do,” Val replied without missing a beat. She hefted the pack hanging off her shoulders to emphasize her point. “It’s exactly why I ran around half of Dalaran putting together a meal before finally caving to my haste to get here. "Brought plenty for three, by the way,” she added with a smile.

Asta shot Valdyss a look when that little addition was made. “Trying to curry favor with food?” she quipped with a faint smirk. “My my, you may be as smart as Faye claims.”

“Not looking to curry favor as much as to take advantage of an opportunity to get to know you better.” Val had to jog for a few steps to catch up to Asta’s side again. These tall Callahan women and their long strides. “If it isn’t already, I believe it will become important to your sister that we meet and spend some time together. Light, at least I hope my read on things is correct in that regard.”

Asta finally made it to the kitchen with Val: a large space with a stone oven, some door inlaid with runes, a healthy fireplace, and many more stonework "appliances." Magic hung thick in the room as Asta went to open another door and begin pulling out what must have been supplies to make the Crack N' Apple.

"If she's as fond of you as I suspect, and this continues as it does, I suspect the same." Asta commented. "But that extends both ways, you know. I'd like to understand just who my sister is seeing."

Blue eyes shifted aside to look at Valdyss pointedly, framed by the shorter blonde hair on her head. There was no maliciousness to the statement: no threat. But she was observing the woman.

Valdyss had no control over the grin that transformed her previously tense features, and wouldn’t have tried to compose herself even if it was possible. Of all the emotions she could wear outwardly like a badge of honor, those she felt growing for Faye were among the most important.

“Well, to use a cliche I suspect you’ll appreciate, I am an open book.” As she spoke, Val unpacked the food and then bustled around the kitchen, gathering what she’d need to warm the tenderloin and then plate it up along with the cheese. "I don’t have a thing to hide, so ask away.”

"Well first- Oh here." Asta moved aside and got a large metal pan. She walked over to the fireplace and slid the pan into a niche made partway up the stony alcove. Reaching below, with a murmur, Asta ignited the rune carved there and a hearty fire sprung to life.

"There you are: and the plates are right over there." Asta pointed to a cabinet in question before returning to making her drink. "First: why were you in Dalaran? I was told you are doing some studies there? Something about ley lines I believe."

Valdyss muttered a quiet thanks as she crossed to the cabinet Asta had gestured to. She grabbed three plates and brought them back to the counter closest to where Asta was working. “I’ve been trying to locate areas of concentrated arcane energy here in Drustvar. My hope is to use those as pinpoints that can then be connected together to accurately map the network of main ley lines in this region.”

The mage peeked into the stone recess to check on the roast, smiling as she inhaled the pleasant scent of rosemary. “This trip wasn’t to research as much as it was to log my findings so far.” She shook her head. “The Kirin Tor doesn’t have nearly as much data about Drustvar as I imagined they would, and I intend to remedy that.” Val sighed. “The dark history of your homeland and the potential for that history to repeat itself is just too important to go unnoted.”

Asta, meanwhile, was busying herself with mixing their drinks. She was listening of course, judging from the eventual hum that left her as Valdyss finished speaking.

"Interesting. And what have you found so far? I have a sneaking suspicion a lot of the arcane points of power would likely also be tied towards important places for natural magic."

Val nodded. “What I'm seeing here in Drustvar is consistent with the relationship between ley lines and places of power all over the world. Sites that hold a concentration of arcane magic are either over a main ley line- a trunk, if you will -or where two or more smaller branches intersect.” Talking with her hands as always, the mage crossed her index fingers to illustrate that last point.

“As for natural energy being tied to sites of power in the same way arcane is, that makes complete sense to me.” She leaned one hip against the counter and watched Asta work for a moment before adding, “I can give you copies of the final map and my findings once I have it all pulled together, if you’d like.”

Asta glanced over to the mage as she spoke, and there was clear interest in her expression. Even more so when the offer of a map came into the picture.

"I would absolutely love a copy, if that were possible." She agreed, putting the whipped creme into each of the three glasses. "My knowledge of ley lines is not quite as advanced, but they are rather intriguing. It feels as though the notion of arcane magic isn't quite as talked about around here, despite the Lord Admiral's daughter being a particularly potent mage herself. Or perhaps even more so because of that, actually."

“Ah. We mainlanders with our strange Light and magic, eh?” Val replied, adding a wink for Asta.

The mage looked in on the roast again and, seeing it would likely be perfectly browned in a few minutes, she turned to the counter and unwrapped the round of brie she'd brought. “I’d be interested in visiting a few of the mapped sites with you.” Val centered the cheese on a plate and held her open hand a couple of inches over it, palm down.

“My theory is that you may feel a stronger pull of nature magic there, just as I will with the arcane.” As she spoke, a flickering red glow illuminated the space between her palm and the plate. The brie began to bubble and melt.

“Not to say they’re the same magic. I mean, they’re channeled in different ways, as far as I know,” Val continued. “But I believe that- in the most elemental sense -nature and arcane magic come from the same energy, so I think we’d prove that there are more similarities in the way that our people actually conjure and wield magic than there are differences.”

Asta was in the middle of sprinkling the cinnamon across the drinks when Val made her second offer.

Her hands paused in their work, hovering there for a moment in thought. She continued shortly after, but seemed ever so slightly distracted. It might be subtle enough for Valdyss to miss initially.

"It would be something, certainly, depending on the days you'd choose. I have not gotten the chance to read much into the interplay between the Arcane and Natural magics: most of mine have to do with the latter. Aren't you the Steward of Autumnhearth as well, yes?"

Val nodded. “I am...well, I will be.” She lifted her hand away from the now perfectly gooey round of brie. “I'm currently the Court Secretary and, as honored as I am to have the role, I’m not sure I would have accepted it if I had the impression that all of my time would have to be dedicated to that alone.”

As she spoke, the mage moved to the oven to remove the tenderloin. Once she’d set that down to cool, Valdyss swiped a hand across the rune carved low on the fireplace, cutting off the flame. “As it is, I’ll have the flexibility to choose days that are convenient for you.” She leveled a gaze at Asta, softened by a warm and genuine smile. “We both know your sister won’t need any convincing to cut you loose from here for a little while.”

And here, Asta stopped. She stared down at the three prepared drinks with an intensity they didn't deserve. It was a few seconds before she turned her attention towards Valdyss and smiled politely.

"Well," She finally said, picking up the drinks, "I suppose I'll just have to speak with her on the matter." And that was that. "Now, what can you tell me about your work in Autumnhearth? It seems to be quite the up and coming barony in Drustvar, which is good given everything that's happened."

Valdyss was tempted to push because she knew how much Faye adored Asta and desired more for her and- unexpectedly -because she already liked the younger Callahan enough herself to want to help. It wasn’t the mage’s place though, and Asta’s curt response and quick change of subject only drove that fact further home. ‘What do you know about family matters anyway?’ the mage silently mused to herself.

Taking the hint, Val found a cutting board and set to work slicing the meat as she spoke. “It’s my duty to represent and speak for Autumnhearth, in person or by correspondence, when the Hallewells aren’t available or have had to recuse themselves.” She shrugged. “I haven’t had to do much of anything yet, but I’m ready and honored to… and a bit nervous to, if I’m being honest.”

Valdyss grew quiet then, clearly lost in her own thoughts. The silence between her and Asta didn’t feel uncomfortable, not to her anyway, and she briefly wondered if it was the same for the other woman. She slid the precisely sliced tenderloin onto a plate and tilted it so there was a little space between each slice, allowing one to see beyond the golden seared surface to the pale meat in the center. Grabbing up the pan, she poured the juices- dotted with rosemary, pepper, and garlic -over the roast.

“Promise I’ll help clean up later,” Val said, eyes on the plates of meat and cheese as she picked them up. “But, for now, I think we’re ready to eat.”

tagging @merelliahallewell and @alexandriawilliams for brief mention of the Hallewells

[inmyownlittlecorner5]

illecebrous

A fanfiction Short Story by la-topolina 

Rated for Teen Audiences

Warnings: Sexual Content

illecebrous: /I lI ‘se: brǝs/ adj. (archaic) tending to attract, enticing

I'm at a party I don't wanna be at

“Buck up, Minerva, it’s only one night,” Albus said cheerfully as he handed her into the glittering carriage that awaited them at the Apparition Point in the apple grove at the edge of the Malfoy estate.

“If you’d told me accompanying you to the Malfoy New Year’s Eve Ball was one of the terms of my employment, I’d have reconsidered accepting the position,” Minerva replied tartly as she slid onto the fur-lined bench.

Albus climbed in after her and gave her an amused smile as he arranged the traveling rug over her lap. The faceted door swung shut, and the icy carriage began its smooth passage to the Manor itself. Minerva could see her breath hovering in front of her face, and she shivered in the thin finery of her dress robes. Carved of ice and charmed to opulence, the carriage was as beautiful as it was freezing—rather like the Malfoys themselves.

“Here and I had thought you found Abraxas at least tolerable,” Albus prodded. “You did well enough together as Head Boy and Girl.”

“Aye, Abraxas is no fool, I’ll give him that. But he’s a stick up his arse and he’s far too fond of Pureblood nonsense for my taste. And how could you think I’d be mates with anyone who flew on the Slytherin Quidditch team?”

“A fair point, but you scored so many points on him, I thought it might mitigate the sin of his being in the wrong house.”

All this talk of Quidditch was making her shoulder ache with the ghost of the hex that had ended her career. “I don’t recall you ever being fond of Slytherins. Why bother buttering me up to them now?”

“Whatever I may or may not think of Slytherin House, as Headmaster I strive to show impartiality.”

“Ha! I’ll believe that when I see it.”

He heaved a stricken sigh, but his sparkling eyes betrayed him. “Must I remind you that you are representing Hogwarts tonight? Please endeavor to be on your best behavior. I should be sorry to regret my choice of Transfiguration professor so quickly.”

“You’ll never regret my being a professor, but you might well regret my being at this party.”

“Minerva.” A note of censure gave a sharp edge to her name, and she relented.

“For goodness’ sake, Albus, I know how to behave. I’ll be dull as dishwater tonight.”

Don’t think I fit in at this party

The first and only time that Minerva had ever been to Malfoy Manor had been for a tedious summer party commemorating graduation. She’d been unfashionably punctual, and Abraxas had been saddled with the task of entertaining her. In spite of her nerves and his reserve, she had been impressed by the grandeur of the estate; even if it did feel  more like mausoleum than a home.

With this memory forming her expectation, it was no surprise that she gasped as Albus led her into the sumptuous ballroom. The marble tomb had been transformed, coaxed to life with hues of purple, rose, and gold; lit by a swath of floating candles and fairy dust. The middle of the room was dominated by a whirl of determined dancers, hard at work to the music of the unseen orchestra. Artfully draped groups of colorful cushions sat in discrete niches, languidly inviting the guests to rest and feast upon the delicacies that crowded every available surface, and seemed endless in number and kind. A fragrant smoke swirled through the air, giving a pleasant haze to the entire room, and Minerva was on the road to giddiness even before the first bubbling glass of champagne appeared. 

She gripped the coupe with the clammy fingers of one hand, and Albus’s arm with the other as he led her around the room with an artless confidence that she doubted she would ever possess. Without knowing quite how it happened, she found herself seated on an embroidered pouf, balancing a plate of rich temptations on her knees, attempting to follow the rapid witticisms that Albus exchanged with the imposing group of witches and wizards that Minerva recognized as making up most of the Hogwarts Board of Governors. 

“Do I understand correctly that you are the youngest teacher Hogwarts has ever employed?” asked Arcturus Black, peering through his pince-nez at her with his beady black eyes.

She hastily swallowed a mouthful of caviar and crème fraîche. “I believe so, sir.”

“And we were lucky to catch her before she disappeared into the wide world in search of fame and fortune,” Albus said warmly. 

Arcturus was unimpressed. “Yes, yes, Albus, you’ve been quite bull-headed in your support of the young lady. But I will not scruple to remind you that we will be watching her closely.”

Minerva’s chin went up at that. “The young lady will do her best not do disappoint you, I’m sure,” she said sharply.

Irma Crabbe, a pinched-face woman with a voice like treacle decided to make her opinion known. “Miss McGonagall, do remind me, who were your parents? I must have been at school with them, but I can’t seem to bring their faces to mind.”

“My mother is Isabol Ross,” Minerva replied stoutly. “You’ll remember her, she was captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. Slytherin never won a match against her when she was playing.”

“Ah, of course, and what a spirited girl she was. And your father?”

“The Right Reverend Robert McGonagall.”

“How strange, I don’t remember him at all.”

“You wouldn’t. He’s a Muggle.”

“Ah, I do remember now. My condolences.”

Minerva opened her mouth with the intention of informing Irma Crabbe exactly where she could shove her condolences, but Abraxas Malfoy intercepted the insult.

“Minerva, all this talk of business is boring me to death. Be a sport and do me the honor of standing up with me before they get on to budgets and fundraising,” he said, uncoiling himself from his cushion and tossing aside his jeweled hookah. Immaculately groomed, he was every inch the jaded atheling, suffering from a terminal bout of ennui.

Much as she wished to let her tongue fly, Albus’s warning glance and Abraxas’s waiting hand convinced her to curb it. A house elf appeared to whisk away her dishes, and soon she was following Abraxas to the top of a set of dancers, relieved to be free from the barbs of the Blacks. For a time her mind and body were fully occupied with the minding of her turns and her pas de basques. The Highland Reel invaded her bones, and she almost forgot that she was in the middle of a gaggle of Pureblood snobs until the dance required her to skip across the set and partner briefly with Cygnus Black.

“How spry you are, Minerva,” he said, his breath smelling unpleasantly medicinal. “After that blow Orion dealt you I’m surprised you can still dance at all.”

“Orion’s cheating might have grounded me, but I can beat either of you, any time, anywhere,” she spat back.

“Temper, temper. Watch this one, Abraxas, she bites!” Cygnus chortled.

“Then I’ll thank you to refrain from stirring her up,” Abraxas replied, smoothly retrieving her from Cygnus and returning her to the top of the set.

Fortunately for Cygnus, the dance had progressed to the point that she was not forced to bear his company much longer. In another round, Abraxas was leading her down the line, and she had nothing to do but admire his execution of the Highland Schottische, and then stand opposite him while they waited for the other dancers to supplant them. 

Now that she had the chance to really look at her partner, it was apparent that the years following their graduation had been kind to him. His lanky frame had filled out into a sinewy muscularity that suited him far too well. For all his exertions, neither his robes nor his white-blond hair were ruffled, while Minerva could feel a lock of her own unruly red curls slip free of its coif. She brushed it back and saw his eyes track her movement like a snake tracking its prey. Her stomach flipped and she pulled her irritation at Cygnus and the other Purebloods around her as armor against the disconcerting sensation.

“Cygnus Black is a worm,” she said in a tone that dared the Malfoy prince to argue.

Abraxas shrugged. “Everyone knows that. And his brother is lower still.”

“How can you stand them?”

“Even a worm has its uses.”

“Such as taking out rivals by cheating?”

The dance demanded they join hands, and he gripped hers with a firmness that startled her as they strathspeyed back to the top.

“If I’d had any idea what Orion was planning, I never would have let him fly that day,” Abraxas said in a low rumble.

“That’s easy for you to say now,” she shot back under her breath.

“Do you happen to remember how Orion was unable to sit for weeks after that stunt?”

“Aye, I do. Someone hexed the bugger, and it served him right.”

“I quite agree, which is why I ensured that it happened.”

The dance asserted its rule over them again, and she digested this revelation for the remainder of it. When the music ended, the set broke apart, its members leaving in groups of twos and fours in search of sustenance. 

Abraxas offered her his arm, asking, “Are you hungry? May I take you in to dinner?”

She was too confused by the thoughts tumbling through her head and the sensations pricking her skin to be hungry, but she was in the act of putting her hand on his arm to accept his invitation when the opportunity was snatched from her.

“Communing with the natives, Abraxas?” Hera Bulstrode quipped, slipping her hand into the crook of his arm and claiming him like a piece of luggage. She was small and neat, unlike her country cousins; her robes were of the latest fashion and highest quality; she dripped jewelry and disdain. “I had no idea you were so nimble.”

“Yes, I expected that a Reel would tire your delicate disposition,” Abraxas replied dryly. “Darling, you remember Minerva McGonagall.”

“I do. How nice to see you,” she said, baring her teeth in a sharp little smile. She held her hand out limply, flashing a ring shining with the Malfoy crest in Minerva’s face.

Minerva gave it a proper squeeze and replied, “You’re looking fine, Hera. How are you otherwise?”

“Busy, busy. Planning the wedding of the century does take its toll.”

“I can imagine.”

“Can you? Will we be seeing you jumping the broom soon as well?”

“No, I doubt it.”

“What a shame.”

Abraxas looked ashamed of his intended’s rudeness. “Minerva has taken the Transfiguration position at Hogwarts.”

“Have you?” Hera seemed to find this a fine joke. “How droll. Abraxas, I’m famished. I’m sorry to separate you and your little friend, but do take me in to dinner before I faint dead away.”

“Of course. Thank you for the dance, Minerva.”

Abraxas gave her a short bow and Hera shot her a look of high triumph. Minerva pursed her lips in response, but she felt more angry with herself than anyone else. What was she doing making an idiot of herself with Abraxas Malfoy of all people? And why hadn’t he bothered to tell her he was engaged?

And when had he gotten so bloody handsome?

She shut her eyes, overwhelmed by the heat and the noise and the smell of the room. Dinner was out of the question, and she retreated to the quiet of a deserted hallway to breathe.

I’m addicted to the thrill

Minerva had never been one to sulk, and when Albus came to collect her for the fireworks, he found her keeping old Belvina Black company by the fire in the library. A spitfire from her youth, Belvina’s bawdy tales had all but driven Abraxas and his coterie from Minerva’s mind. She half wanted to stay inside, if only for the pleasure of hearing whatever blue thing Belvina might say next, but the older woman insisted that she was going to bed and Minerva would be better served by watching the show outside.

Her escort abandoned her on the threshold though. A house elf bearing a message from Mr Norris, the Hogwarts groundskeeper, could be neither ignored nor postponed. Before she knew how he’d done it, Albus had excused himself and charged her with not only viewing the lights, but reporting to him about their beauty in detail the next morning. Disgruntled, she stalked out through the veranda onto the snow-covered lawn, taking a spot as far away from the crowd—and, unfortunately, the pockets of warming charms—as she could. 

But as the music drifted out into the night, and the charmed fireworks lit up the heavens, Minerva grudgingly allowed the beauty of the night to soothe her growling temper. Before long she was absorbed by the display, delighted to be alive and witnessing such brilliance.

“Aren’t you cold, huddling in this corner by yourself?” Abraxas emerged from the darkness, and Minerva jumped at the sound of his voice.

“No, not at all. And the air is fresher here.”

“That, at least, is true.” 

What on earth was he doing here? Didn’t he have a fiancée somewhere to mind? “I suppose congratulations are in order,” she said pointedly. “You didn’t mention that you were engaged.”

“It’s a recent development,” he replied with all the enthusiasm of a flobberworm.

“I expect you’ll be very happy.”

He snorted. “She’s a Bulstrode and I’m a Malfoy. We’ll rub along well enough.”

“What a thrilling endorsement of the matrimonial state.”

“I’m the only son. It’s a duty, nothing more.”

“How depressing. Where is  your keeper now?”

“Hera? Holding court with her ladies-in-waiting. She’s well aware that the fireworks are but a prelude to the dunking and the bacchanal.”

“And she’s missing it? A laugh a minute she is.”

“She has her pleasures and I have mine.”

Heat rose in her cheeks and she leveled a glare at him. “I’m not your pleasure, Abraxas.”

He returned her glare, unperturbed. “I never said you were.”

The fireworks and the music faded, and the crowd dispersed, some to the house, and some further out into the Malfoy wilderness. She should have gone in, rather than stand there, crossing swords with the spoiled Malfoy heir. Except that he’d grown out of the role of the pampered boy and into a role that she didn’t understand yet. Her anger smoothed into something that might have been pity, and she decided to stay where she was and continue the game.

“What’s this dunking you mentioned?” she asked.

“The New Year’s dunking? Aren’t you from the Highlands? How can you not have heard of it?”

“You don’t mean…you’re going ice swimming? You?”

“I am. I go every year. Have you really never done it?” His eyes were bright with a life she’d rarely seen in them, making him look young and open; and dangerously handsome.

“No. Never. Father didn’t approve of such things.”

He clucked his tongue. “Father’s not here. Will you come?”

“I don’t think I should. I am here representing the school after all, and I’m on thin ice with the Board already.”

“Hang the Board, they haven’t the balls to do it. If you’re worried about being seen, we can wait here until the rest of the dunkers have taken their turn and are heading back to the house. They won’t stay in long this time of year.”

“I…”

“You aren’t…afraid are you?”

Those were the magic words. “Certainly not! I’ll do it.”

———————————————————————————————————

Her courage stumbled when she was standing face to face with the frozen lake. Clouds heavy with snow obscured the sky, and a light wind was sending a chill through her robes. The ice had been cleared in a neat square close to the dock, and the midnight blue water that showed through seemed bottomless and vast. Lanterns lined the edge of the natural enclosure, and though she knew there were scores of people yet wandering about the Manor, Minerva felt that she and Abraxas were alone, lost in a fairy world together. 

She gave a startled gasp of protest when her companion began to undress, slinking out of his dress robes and undershirt to stand before her in trousers, boots, and nothing besides. He laughed at her maidenly airs and she felt her face go red to the roots of her hair. 

“You’d best do the same. You don’t need all that lot weighing you down,” he teased as he pulled off his boots. “Or are you afraid, Gryffindor?”

“I’m not afraid of anything, Slytherin,” she shot back, flicking off her own robes and reveling in satisfaction when he sucked in his breath and averted his eyes.

“Leave those,” he ordered in a harsh voice when she started to remove her sensible woolen socks. “You don’t want your feet freezing to the dock when we come out.”

She did as he said, and put her hands on her hips, facing him with her shoulders back and her chin up; well aware that her figure was completely exposed. The hem of her chemise fluttered in the breeze and the cold night air raised gooseflesh on her skin. Abraxas feasted his eyes on her at this silent challenge; she was half goddess, half forbidden fruit under his scrutiny. 

At last he tore his eyes away and plunged into the water with an elegant dive. His face wore that open smile when he resurfaced, his hair gleaming and dripping in the lantern light.

“Don’t keep me waiting girl! It’s no night for a long swim.”

“Don’t call me girl, Abraxas!”

She was after him in a trice, and Crivvens she was surely going to die! She hit the water and the air rushed out of her as though she’d been kicked. Parts of her went numb that she hadn’t known she had until she stopped feeling them. Some animalistic instinct urged her legs to kicking and her arms to moving, clawing her way back to the surface to breathe. Abraxas was there waiting for her, laughing at her shock. She sucked in the frigid air—air that felt sweet and warm compared to the water she was treading. Her body screamed in protest, but Lord, she felt so very alive; it was better than the first time she’d flown on a broom.

He circled her like a merman—or a shark—and for an instant she thought he was going to touch her. 

“You’re turning blue,” he said through chattering teeth. “Come on, before you go under and I have to haul you out.”

“I could stay in all night,” she retorted, and followed him back to the dock.

Snow was falling by the time they were both out of the water, and she felt deliciously limp, lying there on the dock, watching the flakes land on her nose. He was all business, drying them both with a charm and hauling her to her feet that he might wrap her cloak around her shoulders.

“Up Minerva, no sleeping here,” he chided, slipping his arm around her waist to steady her.

He had no right to feel so good. “I’ll sleep where ever I like.”

Her feet stuck to the snow, and she was glad now that she’d kept on her socks, even if they did resemble dead jellyfish clinging to her ankles. The wind kicked up, causing her teeth to chatter and her vision to blur with tears. 

“I think I need to sit down,” she murmured wearily.

“A few steps more, and then you may,” he said sternly.

She leaned against him shamelessly, stumbling over the snow, and when her legs were wobblier than hasty pudding, they came upon a snug stone hut. He guided her to the bed in the corner of the single room, and she could see his wand flashing in the darkness as he lit the fire and set warming charms in the corners of the small space. If his hands were rough when he wrapped the blankets around her and coaxed her to lie down, she did not complain. Her body was screaming again as the heat assaulted it, and breathing was a laborious act of will. But soon she relaxed into the bed; and it was a heavy and wonderful thing to have a body. Her eyes closed, and she drifted into the netherworld between wakefulness and sleep.

I can deal with the bad nights

She came to with a start; wide awake and shivering so hard that her teeth clacked together. The fire still burned high, and the blankets were still warm, but she was cold to the marrow. And where was she? She’d been at Malfoy Manor, gone outside for the fireworks, gone ice swimming with Abraxas…

Good Heavens, where was the man? 

She rolled off the bed and landed on the floor with an inelegant thump. Her companion was huddled on the stones, wrapped in a blanket, and her clatter woke him from his slumber. He was on his feet in an instant, wand drawn, clad only in his trousers, his blond hair untidy from sleep. When he saw they were still alone, his stance relaxed, and he put his wand back on the table by the wall while she scrambled to her feet.

“What is it Minerva?” he asked, his back to her and his voice cold.

“N…nothing.”

“Have you gone and caught cold? I thought you were made of hardier material.”

“I’ve not caught cold,” she countered. “I only feel cold.”

“Do you?”

“Yes! And after that dunking I should think it no surprise.”

He turned to her and his expression was unfathomable. The cottage was silent save for the cracking of the fire, and the cracking of whatever it was sparking between them.

“I should go back,” she said lamely.

“I don’t think that’s wise. You’ve already got a chill and the weather hasn’t let up. Best to wait for morning.”

“With you?” She winced at the way her voice climbed at the end of the second word.

“I’ve no intention of freezing to death.” He ran his eyes over her and she felt naked as a jaybird, in spite of the blanket and her chemise. “Don’t worry, I’ve no intention of defiling you either. Lie down and I’ll cast you a fresh warming charm.”

Ever since she’d been a child, there had been times when Minerva felt the impulse to do something very wrong. Her father would say that a little devil had got hold of her when she’d pull up the flowers or climb up on the roof of the barn. And though she’d always meekly say her prayers and promise to do better, it was nearly impossible to resist when it came round with its red-hot pokers, as it did now.

She licked her lips, saw his nostrils flare, and felt her power. “What if I don’t want a warming charm?”

He cursed under his breath and she advanced on him, letting the blanket slip through her fingers to the floor. His hands were clenched in fists at his sides, but he didn’t stop her when she put hers on his bare chest, or when she ran them over his cool skin to his face and his hair. His heart pounded under her fingers, echoing the careening beat of her own, and she leaned up to capture his parted lips. 

Suddenly his hands came to life, catching hers by the wrists and halting their exploration. He kissed her palms with burning lips, then pressed them together, trapping them between his own.

“Lie down, Minerva,” he implored; a man shaken to the core.

Spellbound, she did as he begged, not sure what he was going to do, not sure what she even wanted him to do. He sat beside her, and tenderly turned her towards the wall, letting his hand run the length of her from shoulder to hip. Then he lowered himself onto the bed, and curved his body around hers. A wordless accio brought the blankets to them; and when all was settled he twined their fingers together, and buried his face in her hair.

“Go to sleep,” he whispered hoarsely. 

He held her that way all night, perched on the edge of the abyss; the most exquisite torture she would ever experience, before or since.

Life’s a game but it’s not fair

She woke to a fully dressed Abraxas and a hot breakfast. Stiff and formal as he’d ever been, he averted his eyes while she dressed and talked smoothly of nothing while they ate. Anger and embarrassment gnawed at her heart as he draped her cloak around her shoulders and led her out to the Apparition Point. A forlorn birdsong echoed across the deserted grounds, and the grey sky offered no glimpse of the morning sun. She stubbornly refused his arm as they tromped through the unbroken snow, and she turned aside his attempts at meaningless conversation.

“I must thank you for a delightful evening,” he said when they reached the apple grove.

“Indeed,” she replied frostily. “Thank you for inviting me.”

He hesitated, then added quietly, “Minerva, you’re the finest woman I’ve ever met.”

The anger and shame that had been building all morning exploded. “I don’t know what you’re about, Abraxas, but you’ve got a lot of nerve saying such things to me! Especially when you’re shuffling me off like some kind of two-knut hussy.”

“Two-knut hussy? You’re worth more than the lot of them combined. I was trying to spare you more of their sneering.”

“If you think that, why do you stay here?”

Her question unmasked him, and he stood before her with his desires and his anguish brazenly on display. “Because I love this land more than life itself. I could no more leave it than I could give up my magic or my name.”

“Well,” she said more gently, “you’ve no business acting the way you did when you’re bound to marry another woman.”

“Do you think I’m unaware of that?” he shot back, and they were at it again.

“I don’t pretend to understand how that Slytherin mind of yours works.”

“I would end things with Hera in a heartbeat if I thought I might have you instead.”

“I doubt that would be a wise idea.”

“Why?”

Why indeed? “Could you honestly see me as lady of the manor? I’d burn the place down within a fortnight.”

“I’m sure you would.” He laughed bitterly, and caught her hands with his. “I wish that things could be different.”

Her heart was cracking, breaking over the loss of something she hadn’t even known she wanted. But she hadn’t been willing to live in a muggle cage for Dougal McGregor, and she wasn’t willing to live in a magical one for Abraxas Malfoy. She checked her tears, and mustered a smile as she said what she believed would be their only goodbye.

“No sense wishing for the moon, Abraxas. But think of me from time to time, will you?”

“That, I promise you.”

He loosened his hold on her hands, and she slid them away, savoring the touch of his fingers to the last. The apple trees reached out to her, offering shelter and space to collect herself, that she might depart without fear of splinching or worse. He leaned heavily against one of the wide trunks, watching her as she gathered her thoughts and her magic. 

A solitary fruit, covered with frost, clung stubbornly to one of the frozen branches. Its red hue shone all the more brilliantly for its loneliness; and her fingers itched to pluck it, though she knew that fruit this late would be sour.

She turned away and left it hanging—there, in the bleak world, alone.

------------------------------------------

End Notes:

This story is the result of my combining three very interesting—and disparate—challenges over on HPFT. For the New Year, New You Challenge; we were given two songs, one from 2009 and one from 2019 to build our story around, and we were asked to have the MC of the story try something new for the first time (I chose ice swimming). I was given Run This Town by Jay-Z and I Don’t Care by Ed Sheeran and Justin Bieber. The section headings are taken from the song lyrics thus:

I'm at a party I don't wanna be at;

Don’t think I fit in at this party; and

I can deal with the bad nights are from I Don’t Care

I’m addicted to the thrill; and

Life’s a game, but it’s not fair are from Run This Town

For a bonus point, we could also be assigned a random MC, and I was given Minerva McGonagall.

There’s Only One Bed Challenge asked us to use the one bed trope in a story. This is the first time I’ve written that trope--and I adore it.

For the Happier Holidays Challenge, we were asked to incorporate a holiday that occurs in December or January and its traditions into a story. In addition to the usual New Year’s Eve party, fireworks, and disappointment in love; I added the polar plunge or Loony Dunk. In the UK this often happens on Christmas Day or Boxing Day; in Scotland it happens on New Year’s Day.

Many many thanks to Chemical_Pixie for sharing her ice swimming experiences with me! And also many thanks to Mr Z for beta-ing this story.

atheling: an anglo-saxon prince

pas de basque: place-keeping dance step

Highland Schottische and strathspey: traveling dance steps

The final line in the story is inspired by the Thomas Moore Poem, The Last Rose of Summer.