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wrennetteTitle: Nine Lives
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: multiple, explicit het and implicit slash.
Rating: R for language, sex, and death
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling and a bunch of other rich Brits. Nothing but the briefly mentioned OCs and plot belong to wrennette, and she isn't making any money off this.
Summary: A cat animagus, even in human form, is still a cat. Minerva has nine lives to figure out how to save the world.
Notes: I seem to have fallen into at least reading in the HP fandom. We'll see what happens. Profligate use of minor characters, OCs, and reincarnation/timey-wimeyness.
WARNING: This fic has repeated and sometimes explicit character deaths.
The first time Minerva McGonagall dies, she doesn’t have time for regrets. There’s simply noise and fire and sharp, searing pain, and then she is sitting beneath the willow next to Loch Dubh, the giant squid waving lazily at her and the solidness of Hogwarts’ familiar wards encompassing her. She sat, and thought, for a very long time, before Elphinstone settled beside her.
“Hello love,” Elphinstone greeted.
“I’m really dead then?” Minerva asked, and Elphinstone smiled.
“Really. Although, not entirely. There’s something - odd - about the magic that allows a person to become a cat. They’re fairly magical creatures themselves after all,” Elphinstone said. Minerva gasped softly.
“Nine lives,” Minerva whispered, for she had heard that old tale too, but never set much store by it. Elphinstone nodded. “So I can’t - I won’t be staying here with you then?”
“Not for a while longer,” Elphinstone admitted. “But just think my love, of all you might change. All the suffering you might prevent.” At that, Minerva’s severe face broke into a wondrous sort of smile.
“Do I start over from the very beginning?” Minerva asked.
“No, only from when you got that cat magic,” Elphinstone said in a teasing tone.
“Sixteen then,” Minerva said with a nod. “That’s plenty early enough,” she said, thinking about handsome Tom Riddle. He had been interested in her, she thought, although he had been enough years ahead of her they didn’t interact much. When she had been sixteen, he had been already graduated and living in London, clerking, as she remembered it, at Borgin and Burke’s. Still. It would be worth an effort.
So it came to pass that the second time she died, Minerva was standing straight backed and proud in front of Tom and his syncophants, her chin raised defiantly. Her mouth tasted of blood, and she hadn’t changed half of what she meant to. She smiled, that clever smile that pissed Tom off to no end.
“I’ll see you soon Tom,” Minerva said gently, and in a flash of green, she opened her eyes by Loch Dubh.
“That was quick,” Elphinstone teased when he joined her, and Minerva snorted.
“Wrong strategy,” Minerva admitted. Her hindsight had always been exceptionally clear.
“Plot better then, my Queen,” Elphinstone said. “You only have so many chances.”
“What if I get it right while I’ve still lives left?” Minerva asked.
“Use them to live out your days on the Riviera,” Elphinstone suggested, and Minerva chortled softly, then dissolved into girlish giggles that matched the sixteen year olds body she wore her.
Her next life, Minerva plotted like the most cunning of Slytherins, utilizing every trick she had ever learned from Tom, Severus, and the great manipulator himself, Albus Dumbledore. She died at Severus’ hands that go round, his dark eyes cold and flat as he watched the poison froth on her lips. The White Witch was dead, long live the Dark Lord. She sighed as Elphinstone joined her.
“Better or worse?” Elphinstone asked.
“Worse,” Minerva said disconsolately, tearing the grass from the lawn. “Far worse. One of my favorite students and best friends poisoned me.”
“Well, you certainly don’t do boring, do ye lass?” Elphinstone asked, and Minerva snorted softly.
“I think I may skip out on teaching this next go ‘round,” Minerva decided. And so it came to pass that she once again died on the wand of Tom Riddle. He was going by Voldemort by then though, but she made it to the 1970s, and would be remembered in that branching of the world tree as the first witch to make the cut as an Auror, and one of the most feared Aurors in all of Britain.
“Four down,” Elphinstone mused as he joined her on the banks of Loch Dubh.
“This last time went closer to the way I wanted it to,” Minerva said contemplatively. “I was an Auror. That was fun.” Elphinstone chortled softly. “I’ll see you soon enough,” she said, and stood, brushing off her skirt. “I have an idea.” Elphinstone smiled wryly, and Minerva leaned down to kiss his forehead. “What happens next?” she asked, looking off into the setting sun.
“Haven’t the foggiest m’dear,” Elphinstone admitted. “I’ve been waiting here for you.” Minerva hesitated, then nodded.
“I shall endeavour to make you wait even longer,” Minerva said decisively, and then she was blinking and shifting from cat back to human after her first successful animagus transformation. She took the route into the Aurory again this time, but she was more politic. She kept a closer eye on Tom, and a more careful one. In 1976 she lost her leg, but that was a sight better than losing her life. Rather than ride a desk at the DMLE, she applied for the perennially open DADA position at Hogwarts.
“Good morning, I’m Auror First Class McGonagall, Professor to you,” Minerva greeted her first class. “The magic you learn in this class has the potential to be extremely dangerous. If I catch you messing about, and I will catch you, you shall leave my class and not return. There are no exceptions. I don’t care who you are, who your parents are, or who your grandparents are.” She gave them all the gimlet eye, and was pleased to see she had Severus’ rapt attention.
Severus’ devotion to her was secured when she caught the Marauders after him and not only scolded them, but refused to let them wriggle out of detention. The second time, the detention lasted a month. The third time, she got them kicked out of Hogwarts for the remainder of the year, even Remus Lupin. Her fifth death was at the hands of Sirius Black, who was unhinged by the thought of being returned to his parents. Severus was in Azkaban a week later for killing his classmate in retribution.
“Teaching is seriously detrimental to a long lifetime,” Minerva groused when Elphinstone joined her. He just smiled, and took her hand. She smiled back, holding on for a while, watching the sun refract of the ripples of the loch. Eventually though, she rose and straightened her uniform deftly. They kissed softly in parting, and Minerva walked alone down to Hogsmeade station. She boarded the otherwise empty Express when it steamed into the station, this part of the journey almost familiar now. A whistle, and she was opening her eyes as she regained human form in 1951.
As in all her lifetimes, the demand for Aurors was high in the aftermath of Grindelwald and Hitler. Again Minerva answered the call, and again she became the first female Auror, and a sort of legend in her own time. This time though, when the ICW invited her to join their task force, she accepted, and so it was she stood at cross wands with Tom Riddle in a moonlight Albanian forest.
Riddle was devastatingly handsome, and Minerva had loved him, always, and perhaps always would in her way. Abraxas Malfoy stood pale and arrogant at Tom’s right hand, Fenrir Greyback at his left. Minerva was alone and knew she was well outclassed. This would be her sixth death then, she anticipated. And then - then Tom surprised her.
“Hold,” Tom commanded, lowering his wand slightly but not disarming. “What brings you here McGonagall?”
“The ICW is wary of your researches,” Minerva said, which was the truth. “Grindelwald’s war has nearly exposed us to Muggle scrutiny. If the Statute fails, our world falls. They’re afraid you’re poking about in Grindelwald’s mess, looking to pick up his banner.” Tom cocked his head, then shook it.
“No, I have no desire for war. Knowledge, yes. Power to change our world, yes. But I would have us protected, secreted even more securely away from muggles,” Tom said.
“Grindelwald will provide you with none of the answers you seek,” Minerva warned. “If separation is your aim, what does Albania of all places offer?” That of course was a trick question. She knew quite well that Tom was on a treasure hunt for Ravenclaw’s diadem.
“There is talk of a treasure in these woods,” Tom said. “I have no other way to fund a political campaign.” Minerva was the one to cock her head this time, her eyes measuring with a wisdom beyond her physical years.
“I can only pay so much to the coffers,” Abraxas said. He was not yet Lord Malfoy, Minerva realized. His grandfather, old Brutus, still held the title, and the old man more than lived up to his name.
“With your grades Tom, and your intelligence, you might do anything,” Minerva said. “A political campaign, no, they would not fund that. But I know very well that there is research funded through the ICW that might help you make the points to drive a campaign. We all of us with a brain know that more muggleborns come into our world each year, and that many of them return to the muggle world once they graduate. We all know that squibs, too, are born more frequently now than ever before.”
“Are you actually agreeing with me?” Tom asked bemusedly.
“I am stating known facts that support the position that we need to integrate muggle borns better, not scare them away. That we need to move away from the oligarchical structure the British Ministry has been organized into these past however many generations. That we need to hide ourselves well so that no government can do to us what the Americans have done to Nagasaki and Hiroshima,” Minerva said firmly, her chin lifting in defiance.
Tom smirked, and sheathed his wand. He crossed the moonlit clearing and pulled Minerva into a rough embrace. His mouth was hot and hard on hers, and she moaned helplessly. Her knees gave way, and she felt the dizzying lurch of apparition, and then she was pushed against a rough door and Tom’s hand was down the front of her trousers, his fingers curling into her. Minerva moaned, and she wet herself spectacularly as he rubbed her swollen clitoris.
“Tom,” Minerva gasped, and then her trousers were around her ankles and his erection was thick inside her and she had never been so thoroughly aroused in her life. Minerva moaned, rubbing her erect nipples against Tom’s firm chest. She struggled with his robes, kissing his mouth, his neck, his shoulders. It was a rough, animalistic fuck, and they collapsed, entangled to the floor in the aftershocks.
“Merciful Merlin,” Minerva murmured when she could form a sentence, and Tom chuckled softly.
“We probably shouldn’t have done that,” Tom said in his rich, soft voice. “But you looked so damn gorgeous in that uniform, with that fire in your eyes, and I haven’t been offered hope or a path towards success in so very long.”
“I don’t regret it,” Minerva answered softly, and carefully stood. She hadn’t been so enthusiastically taken in quite some time, and felt rather tender between the legs. It felt impossibly good. “I’ve been tracking you months, and this isn’t exactly the outcome my supervisor wanted, but so long as you don’t file a complaint, and you’re not plotting to overthrow the Ministry and declare yourself the Dark Lord?” Tom laughed softly.
“I’d rather order tea and then fuck you again,” Tom admitted, and Minerva laughed softly, then glanced about.
“Bathroom?” Minerva asked.
“Sorry, only in the hall,” Tom said wryly. “This wasn’t exactly planned.”
“No,” Minerva agreed. “Not in the least.” She snorted softly. “Well, I’m not due to report in for a few more days. Fancy a trip to Zurich, courtesy the ICW?” she offered, and Tom blinked, then grinned.
“Sure, why not. Brax has his own arrangements, and Merlin only knows with Fen. Any side benefits to this trip?” Tom asked with a leer.
“You mean will I let you diddle me again?” Minerva asked in reply, raising her eyebrow, and Tom’s leer grew more pronounced. She scoffed, then stood and sauntered to the bed, laying down and spreading her legs, trailing her hand over her small, pert breasts and then down between her legs. Tom stood, his leer traded for a look of intense desire, and then he was between her legs, fisting himself back to erection.
“I want your mouth on me,” Minerva murmured huskily, and he complied. She moaned. He was so very good at pleasuring her. His mouth and hands and thick erection seemed purpose built to drive her insane with lust. Minerva was soon on her hands and knees, whimpering with need as Tom took her from behind. The next few days as they travelled to Zurich were definitely interesting, and Minerva was even more pleased when she was reassigned from field investigations to the ICW branch that was similar to the Ministry’s Unspeakables, with Tom as her partner.
Tom could be insufferable of course. There were days when Minerva simply wanted to hex him senseless and leave him tied up in her office. When she was having one of those days though, she would corner him in some little used alcove or nook out of sight, and they would end up going at it like minks. Against every single stricture they had on workplace behavior of course, but that was half the fun. She hadn’t been a Gryffindor for nothing.
Too soon though, the British Aurory demanded her back, all field agents were being recalled. So they kissed goodbye, and she was back to London. At first she thought her lethargy was simply due to missing Tom and their myriad interesting projects back in Zurich. And then she started sicking up of a morning, and had a rather unwelcome realization. The first chance she got, she went to Mungos, and when her suspicion was confirmed, she was on the next international portkey to Switzerland.
Tom came home to London with her, his always pale face even paler at the prospect of fatherhood. She applied to transfer from field operations, and when her boss started whinging about how poor her timing was at getting pregnant, she gave her notice and applied for the Defense job at Hogwarts, only to find that Tom had also applied for it. Minerva hurriedly withdrew her application, and enquired about family housing and the Transfiguration position. Both, thankfully, were available, and when September first rolled around she was Madam Minerva Riddle, for the first time in all her lives.
Albus was wary of Tom of course, he always was, no matter which lifetime Minerva was in. This was the first time he had been openly wary of her as well though, and it hurt a bit, not to have her old mentor’s trust. But she had even in her first life come to understand that Albus tried too hard to do too much for the big picture. He lost sight of individuals in his machinations, and usually everyone ended up hurt. Minerva was more concerned with individuals. With Tom, and when they came, Severus and Lily.
By the time Severus and Lily arrived, Minerva was Head of Gryffindor again, however begrudgingly on Albus’ part, and Tom was, even more begrudgingly on Albus’ part, Head of Slytherin. Slughorn had happily retired some time ago, around the time that the elder Gaunt’s died and Tom came into the Lordship of House Slytherin. With Tom’s sharp eyes on his house though, Severus’ abuse was caught out quickly, and Tom had already become politically powerful enough to have child protection legislation passed in the Wizengamot.
Minerva rode much tighter herd on her Gryffindors than she had in her first life, not letting them, or Albus, get away with anything. She had done so from the start, and as a result had a reputation as fearsome as Severus’ had been in her first life. It amused her, to watch him grow up again, all big eyes and curiosity, and so clever it hurt her head. Severus was soon Tom and her personal protege, their chosen child, and he was Head Boy this go round, and confident enough in himself to know that his undying affection for Lily Evans wasn’t a romantic love, but a familial one.
Tom’s old friend Abraxas sponsored Severus’ Potions Mastery, then seduced the boy to his bed. Minerva watched carefully, but it was soon clear that Abraxas was utterly besotted with the boy, and that if anyone was taking advantage, it was Severus. Lucius wasn’t terribly pleased of course, with having a stepfather who was not only five years his junior, but an impoverished half blood from a broken home. But Lucius was also far too wise to say anything against his father, or the imposing Lord and Lady Slytherin, who were unfailingly in Severus’ corner.
Minerva died for the sixth time putting herself between Lucius’ wand and Severus. She lingered a moment, touching Severus’ distraught face, then his gravid belly, and then, seeing Severus and Tom take Lucius down together, she departed. It was with a rather pleased sigh that she settled under her tree on Loch Dubh. As usual, she was alone for a while in her contemplation before someone settled at her side. This time though, it wasn’t Elphinstone who came to her.
“Hello Min,” Tom’s familiar voice said, and she looked up sharply.
“Oh, Tom,” Minerva gasped. “You gave me such a fright. I was hoping you’d still be down with Severus and the baby?”
“It’s been half a hundred years my love,” Tom said gently. “Brax actually beat me here by quite a few. I had half hoped he would find you.”
“No. But Severus? The baby?” Minerva asked hopefully.
“Both well. Lucius went to Azkaban, and Severus bore Abraxas many children, the eldest being Drakaina Minerva, and being a rather beautiful thing with black hair and silver eyes and every benefit starting out in life a child could desire,” Tom said. “She was followed by Lysander, the Malfoy Heir, and his twin Lucasta, both as fair as their father, then another son, Apollinaris, who has Abraxas’ pale hair and Severus’ dark eyes. Another girl followed Pol, Hermione, who like her eldest sister is dark haired and silver eyed and the cleverest little thing in creation.
“That was to be all, but Severus birthed one last son, some three months after Abraxas was laid in his tomb, the very image of my old friend, and named in his honour. That birth was nearly the death of Severus, between the labour and the heartbreak of doing it alone. I begged them all to come home to me, but Severus is a proud creature as well you know, and so they came not, and Drakaina is Lady Prince now, and Lysander Lord Malfoy. Drakaina made a morganatic match to Lily Evan’s eldest boy,” Tom reeled off.
“And who did Lily marry?” Minerva asked, for she had heard of no match before her death.
“She didn’t,” Tom said with a wry smile. “She had three sons, each with a different father. The first is James Potter’s boy. He chased her and chased her, as well you remember, and once he caught her, bedded her without the protection of a bond, and left her with the boy and not so much as a cent in support. He wed Miss McKinnon, and had an Heir by her, a pompous little popinjay of a lad.
“When Lily realized she was on her own, she and Remus Lupin drew close, he being the boy’s godfather, and they had a child together. Lupin was drawn into an altercation with Potter though, no one could say about what, and ended up in Azkaban himself for a time, before they executed him. He left a son with Lily as well.
“I took her and the boys in, and cared for them as she would let me, and woke up one morning with no recollection of the night before and Lily in my bed,” Tom said with a grimace. “I place no blame with her, I’d far too much to drink but that’s no excuse. I was lonely and hadn’t known a woman’s touch since you’d gone, and it’d been years. I offered to marry her, but she refused. Still, I provided for her and all three boys, and they were all as my own sons, Henry, John and Tom Evans. Henry is the one who wed Drakaina, and they are a good match. John bonded Regulus Black’s son Altair, and Tom is resolutely a bachelor.”
“Stars,” Minerva said, blinking. “I was expecting Elphinstone you know, when you sat down. Although he’s been later and later these last few times.”
“Elphinstone?” Tom asked.
“Urquhart,” Minerva said. “My first husband. I’m a cat animagus Tom. That means I get nine lives. That was number six. The best one so far, to be honest. Not the longest, but certainly the happiest. I was with you in one of the other lives as well, although you killed me then. I didn’t even reach forty.”
“Heavens,” Tom murmured. “How did that happen?”
“I was rather less than cunning about seducing you and then trying to prevent you from becoming the Dark Lord,” Minerva said with an amused quirk of the lips. Tom’s eyebrows shot up to hide below his curling fringe. Minerva let out a low, smoky chuckle. “In my first life, you created an alias, Lord Voldemort, and reigned terror for eleven years before being temporarily defeated for a further eleven years. You slowly regained power, and by 1997 had the Ministry under your control, as well as Hogwarts, through Severus as Headmaster. He killed Dumbledore in spring of ‘97, and died at your hand a year later.”
“I killed Severus?” Tom asked with soft horror.
“And Lily, and Merlin knows how many others,” Minerva said. “So you’ll understand when the first chance I got I tried to stop you. But I went about it in a rather too Gryffindorish manner. This last go round, like I said, has been the best yet. And I get three more tries to improve it further. I’ll try not to get killed by Lucius the next time. Little snot. He’s almost universally irredeemable.”
“If you go back, what happens to the rest of us?” Tom asked, and Minerva paused, stumped.
“I don’t know,” Minerva said. “I never even thought of that. I remember my previous lives, do you?” Tom’s mouth pursed into that adorable expression he always wore when thinking. He was older, Minerva thought, than herself. If his past self regained his memories then, would it be when he was likewise older than her? He looked to be about twenty-five. Would that be the age he remembered at?
“I - I almost remember,” Tom said thoughtfully. “Like a dream, or, perhaps more aptly, a nightmare.” Minerva shuddered.
“I timed meeting you right this time, although I probably shouldn’t have slept with you so quickly,” Minerva said. Tom settled behind her, and she leaned back into his warm bulk. His big, strong hands caressed down her arms, then cupped her breasts. Minerva moaned softly, squirming back against Tom. One of his hands dipped beneath her blouse to fondle her through her bra, the other sliding down her torso to touch her between the legs.
“I need you darling,” Tom panted, and Minerva turned and climbed into his lap as she had so many times before, opening his trousers and pushing aside the crotch of her knickers, sinking onto him with a moan of pleasure and relief.
“I was still a virgin at this age,” Minerva breathed, and then she was flat on her back and Tom was ravishing her. Minerva moaned eagerly. Like Tom, she had missed the physical aspects of their love. He had always been a skilled partner, pleasuring her easily and driving her to new heights, always willing to try something if it seemed it would be enjoyable. It seemed strange, that they might have sex in the afterlife, but Minerva wasn’t going to question it. She just closed her eyes and clung to Tom’s broad shoulders.
“Remember this,” Minerva all but plead when they lay spent and naked on the grass, their clothing strewn about them, Tom’s soft penis still filling her wet vagina. “Please Tom. Find me. I’ll be looking for you. We did so much good this past go ‘round. You changed so many things for the betterment of the world, kept so many children like Severus from suffering what you did.”
“I promise,” Tom murmured. “My beloved Minerva. I’ll remember, and seek you out.” They lay together a while longer, then finally dressed. Together, they walked down to the station in Hogsmeade, and boarded the train. They held hands as the Express steamed southward, mentally preparing themselves. They stepped off the train together, and the feeling of Tom’s hand wrapped around Minerva’s faded. She resumed her human form and collapsed to her knees, sobbing with heartbreak.
Three weeks after she returned for her seventh life, Minerva knew there was no mistake. She was pregnant. Which should have been impossible, since her body was that of a virgin. Every night though, she dreamed of Tom making love to her on the sunlit lakeside. The Headmaster would not have a pregnant witch at Hogwarts though, and her parents would not allow her home, unwed and ruined. She was a clever enough girl though, and it was a test, every day was a test. And then Tom walked into Borgin and Burke’s where she was clerking, and renting her mouth for a galleon a suck, and he was twenty five to her nineteen and so handsome her breath caught in her throat.
“I came as soon as I remembered,” Tom said, then vaulted the counter and swept her into his arms, kissing her feverishly.
“Oh Tom,” Minerva murmured, and smiled at him sadly. “There’s someone you need to meet.” She snapped, and the nanny elf appeared, holding their son’s hand.
“Min?” Tom breathed, eyes wide.
“This is your son, Theodore,” Minerva said quietly, lifting the little boy onto her hip.
“How?” Tom asked wonderingly.
“Do you remember between lives?” Minerva asked, and Tom’s eyes widened almost comically.
“You came back -” Tom trailed off, and Minerva nodded.
“I had to drop out of school. I’ve been working here ever since. And I - Tom,” Minerva said, her voice strained, and she turned from him with a blush. “I also ah - work nights.” Tom flushed with rage, and Minerva reached out, taking his wrist firmly in her slender fingers. “Only my mouth, I swear.” Tom bristled, but then subsided.
“I cannot fault you for doing what you must to survive,” Tom said softly. “I go to Gringotts come morning to claim what is mine. You’ll be Lady Slytherin as soon as I get things in order. I’m applying to the Department of Mysteries as well.” Minerva smiled tightly, and nodded. Three months later, they were quietly bonded in marriage, and she was Lady Slytherin for the second time. She’s married Tom more often than Elphinstone now.
Between his research work as an Unspeakable, his independent research, and his duties as Lord Slytherin, Tom was inordinately busy. Minerva could lighten his load somewhat, acting on his behalf as Lady Slytherin with a great deal of frequency. Theodore was soon joined by a younger brother, Marcus, then a daughter, Athene, and another son, Sarpedon. Their last child was a girl, Artemisia, who befriended Eileen Prince on the train up to Hogwarts when they were eleven.
When Tom could not talk Eileen’s parents out of signing a betrothal contract for her, Minerva quietly offered the girl sanctuary in their home, Peveril Keep. Two years later, Eileen showed up dirty and bedraggled, and very pregnant. It was 1959, and Minerva smiled wryly, but settled Eileen into a suite in the family wing right next to Artemisia, who had married Sharatan Potter, who would be James’ cousin once James was born. Eileen, sobbing, confessed that her mother, Cosima Prince, had lain with old Regulus Black, and he was her father, and that Caractacus Prince, who most assumed her father, had raped her when she continued refusing to bond as he wished. The child in her belly was Caractacus’, and more a Prince than she herself was.
Old Regulus was too old to be Tom’s contemporary, but they were in the same political faction, and Tom was able to draw him into a quiet conversation without too much suspicion. Regulus was rather gobsmacked to learn he had a daughter, and immediately begged Tom to see her, and take her properly into House Black. His elder brother was Lord of the household, but Eileen was accepted quickly although quietly as Regulus’ daughter. And just in time, as Regulus died within a few months of meeting her.
Upon Regulus’ death, old Arcturus, Lord Black, took Eileen into his own household, and so Severus was born a Black, and under the protection of that (in)famous house as well as House Slytherin. When the Lord Prince learned from Lord Black what his grandson had done to the girl he thought his great-granddaughter, Caractacus found himself disinherited and quietly imprisoned by the rest of the family, and the protection of House Prince extended her child.
Despite his upbringing as a pureblood, Severus was, in essence, the same clever child Minerva couldn’t help but love; her grandson, in every way that mattered. Eileen, for Minerva’s assistance in her time of need, named Minerva godmother, and Tom godfather. They spoiled the boy abominably, but it seemed no matter his make up, Severus was destined to be a stern, serious boy, bookish but creative. This lifetime Tom was his hero, and by the time Severus was seven he was adamant he’d be an Unspeakable when he grew up, just like Uncle Tom.
As Lord Slytherin, Tom had enacted a number of changes, and this time, with the memories of his previous life, he was able to do so more efficiently. Remaking the world was a rather difficult business, and Tom was always opposed. Dumbledore, of course, was wary of him as ever, but this time some of the traditionalists were just as wary, as Tom’s proposals advocated for more change than they were quite comfortable with. Still, he pressed through the most important things, and Minerva helped as well, sitting on the Board of Governors and forcing through educational reforms.
Despite being cousins, Severus and Sirius were not friends; it seemed they were destined to oppose one another. But Sirius was not so anti-traditionalist this time around, and without Voldemort causing trouble, the traditionalist cause wasn’t viewed with quite as much suspicion. As the years passed after the fall of Grindelwald, and without the threat of another Dark Lord, Dumbledore’s influence slowly faded as Tom ascended in power.
Dumbledore still favored Gryffindor inside the school of course, but Slytherin became a much more popular house. Tom held a gala at the end of each school year, with all the Slytherin students invited to attend. Those that couldn’t afford formal robes were quietly helped from his own coffers, and he gave awards for the top overall scores, as well as the top scorer in each class. The prizes were rich, and he personally mentored any Heir that wished it.
It was, in a way, using Dumbledore’s methods against him. Except Tom was so much younger and more handsome, and his methods more public, so that his generosity further polished the Slytherin name. The research he did on his own time only furthered that reputation. He was the toast of the traditionalists after a while, simply for getting over on Dumbledore, and as such, the idea of earning position gained traction.
It made a great deal of difference as Abraxas took control of House Malfoy, and even moreso as other younger Lords were Invested. They were traditionalists, but they were also interested in advancing magic. By the time Severus was of Hogwarts age, some of the more progressive Houses were even beginning to do away with the inheritance of Lordship by primogeniture. As Arcturus grew older, he began pitting his great-grandson and great-nephew against one another for the inheritance of the Black title and estates, giving Sirius and Severus good reason to work against one another.
As Severus lived at Grimsthorpe Castle with old Lord Black, he didn’t meet Lily until he was eleven on the train. Even then though, they were fast friends. Severus was a bit better socialized, and had learned how to interact better with his peers. He went to Slytherin, as he ever did, and Lily, as ever, to Gryffindor. The rivalry between the two houses was as heated as ever, but mostly encouraged by Dumbledore, who disliked Tom and mistrusted his motives. Tom at least, had nothing against Gryffindors. He had married one after all, as he liked to remind people.
Lily and Severus were at the top of their classes each year, trading the top position. They were the best of friends though, and their competition friendly. Again this life Severus had the self confidence to realize his friendship with Lily would only ever be that. And again Severus fell for a Malfoy. This time though, it was Lucius chasing him. Minerva wasn’t best pleased at that, she didn’t trust the slick blonde’s motives. But evidently Tom’s work ethic had infected most of the traditionalists, and this Lucius, while slick and ambitious as ever, was willing to do the work for his acclaim.
So Lucius chased Severus, and in time, caught him. Not though, before Severus began making his own name. This go ‘round, Severus had the familial connections to gain his Potions Mastery on his own, and did so. He was soon invited to join the Department of Mysteries, and gladly agreed. While Tom didn’t expressly work with potions, Severus also had a gift for spell creation, and was an excellent researcher. He was soon co-authoring papers with Tom on the origins of magic and the conservation and creation thereof.
Lucius and Severus wed in a lavish ceremony when Severus was 21, and been officially named Lord Prince and Heir Lord Black. Lily hadn’t wed yet by then, there would be no young Harry Potter in this world, or at least not as Lily’s son. Severus bore Lucius a daughter, Drakaina again, and almost identical to his daughter with Abraxas in the previous life. A year later, Lily finally wed, to one of Minerva’s own grandsons, Astraios, who Lily had met through her work at the Committee for Experimental Charms.
For the first time though, that lifetime Minerva passed from old age. Tom had died some ten years previous, a combination of age and experimental spellwork gone wrong. Their younger son, Sarpedon, assumed the mantle of Lord Slytherin in his stead, their eldest having become the Defense professor at Hogwarts, and Head of Slytherin there. So it was that Minerva died the seventh time, surrounded by her children and grandchildren, both adopted and biological. She smiled, and closed her eyes, and when she opened them, Tom was cradling her on the banks of Loch Dubh.
“You beat me here for once,” Minerva said fondly.
“Sorry love,” Tom said, and bent to kiss her. He was twenty five or so again, young and strong and so very handsome. “This time, I promise not to send you back pregnant,” he murmured, and Minerva laughed softly.
“Let’s wait for the children,” Minerva suggested a while later. “They’re different every time, you know.”
“I remember,” Tom said. “I miss the other ones, but I wouldn’t trade any of the ones from this life for anything. And we always get Severus and Lily, which is nice.”
“They’re good children,” Minerva said fondly.
“We’ll wait,” Tom agreed. “Do you think - do you think they could remember too?”
“I don’t know,” Minerva said. “I never expected you to be able to remember, despite how I wanted you to.”
“Snakes have a magic their own,” Tom teased, and Minerva laughed softly. He wasn’t an animagus, and they both knew it. Transfiguration in general wasn’t his strong suit, although he managed well enough for an O on his NEWTs. Still, there was something to what he said. While cats could, in stories at least, see through magic and even the Veil, snakes could part the Veil as well, if you were going on mythology and legend.
Tom and Minerva waited by the lake for who knows how long. It was impossible to truly tell time in the afterlife. Abraxas came by, to visit, but didn’t stay. Theodore came first, and told them of the long years since first Tom, and then Minerva passed away. He had married late in life, to Aurora Shacklebolt, who had ended up a Sinistra in Minerva’s first life, and they had had a few lovely children together. Sarpedon arrived next, and said he had named Lily’s son with Astraios, Bedivere, his Heir.
Severus arrived after Sarpedon, cradling his daughter with him. Minerva gently gathered Severus into her arms, cooing at the baby that would never be born. He had borne Lucius three sons and a daughter, Severus said, the most recent almost thirteen years previous. The last pregnancy had been a mistake, and Severus had known from the start it would be dangerous to carry the child to term. But he hadn’t been able to bear the thought of an abortion, and so he had persisted, and in the end, had died trying to bring his baby into the world.
Eventually, their entire extended family was around them at the edge of Loch Dubh, Lily and Astraios and all their children, and Lucius, and all his children with Severus, and down the generations that Minerva and Tom hadn’t even met. They all sat and talked for some time, and Minerva debated just staying, saying hang the next life and waiting here. But here wasn’t really a destination she knew, and so, eventually, they all walked down to the station together, and boarded the Express.
Again Tom and Minerva disembarked together, and the feel of his large warm hand around hers faded as she returned to her human form. Sinking to her knees, Minerva sobbed softly. Soon, she promised herself. Tom would be back soon. She just had to wait a few years. Minerva pushed herself those next few years, learning all she could, and not just academically. She learned the traditions she had only acquired later in her other lives, and was at the witches seminary in Bath when Tom came looking for her.
“Miss McGonagall?” the matron asked as they gossiped and worked at their stitchery one morning. Minerva looked up, and there was Tom behind her, tall and handsome, with his robes marked with his Lord of Slytherin crest.
“Madam?” Minerva replied.
“His Grace Tom Riddle of Peverell and Slytherin by Gaunt,” the matron announced rather faintly.
“Miss McGonagall,” Tom greeted, and she stood, putting away her silks.
“Your Grace,” Minerva greeted politely with a graceful curtsey, and then Tom was sweeping past the matron to pull Minerva into his arms and kiss her thoroughly. The other girls all gasped and giggled, and the matron made a faint sound of dismay. Tom deepened the kiss, and Minerva couldn’t help it. She swooned, kissing back helplessly. Tom caught her up deftly, his hands strong and firm on her small waist. “Oh, Tom,” Minerva gasped as they parted.
“Hello again my darling,” Tom murmured, and Minerva smiled up at him rather daftly. “How soon shall we wed?”
“Whenever you wish love,” Minerva replied fondly.
“Soon then,” Tom answered.
“Soon,” Minerva agreed. And three months later, with great pomp and circumstance, they bonded at the timber henge on the grounds of the Lord of Slytherin’s estate. All the Lords long allied to Slytherin were there as witnesses, and a great many others besides. This go ‘round though, the political arena seemed somehow prepared for Tom’s arrival, and he was stymied at every turn.
Minerva’s eighth death came at Albus’ wand, Tom laying cold and still across the threshold, his life given futilely in defense of hers. She only hoped that her sacrifice, like Lily’s, might save her son, a boy of but five called Tarquin. Gasping awake, Minerva burrowed into Tom’s arms. He gathered her close, still shuddering from his own death.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Tom murmured softly, and Minerva stroked his cheeks and then kissed him. He kissed back fervently, feverishly, his hands sliding up her thighs to cup her bottom beneath her skirt.
“I think Albus, or someone, must have remembered as well,” Minerva murmured when she could think properly again. “I only get one more try my love. I don’t - I want to have a good long life with you, and meet our children again.”
“Let’s live quietly at first,” Tom proposed softly. “Let them think, if they’ve any foreknowledge, that we’ve decided not to act on it for whatever reason, or that maybe this go ‘round we don’t remember. We’ll know when the time is right to act. I’ll give up everything else Min, but I won’t give up on you.”
“I’m yours my love,” Minerva promised. “Shall we go straight away?”
“Lets, before I lose my nerve,” Tom decreed, and stood. He set Minerva back on her feet, and they kissed softly once more. “I’ll find you as soon as I can.”
“Perhaps I ought wait for you?” Minerva asked softly. Tom nodded. “Each midsummer, I’ll come to the timber henge at Mere Haven,” Minerva promised.
“I’ll head there as soon as I remember and put my soul back together properly,” Tom promised.
“We’ll be together again then, soon,” Minerva promised, and Tom nodded sharply, then kissed her again. Together they walked to the station and boarded the train, and too soon Minerva was waking to life. She sighed softly, smoothing her uniform. This was her last chance. She nodded firmly to herself, and went about the business of being sixteen one last time.
Each midsummer, she made pilgrimage to the timber henge, and there knelt in vigil from sundown to sundown. It was the fifth summer when she saw the tall, trim silhouette of a man approach as the moon crested the horizon. Minerva watched him from her place of vigil within the henge. He had Tom’s height, his breadth across the shoulders. At the edge of the henge, he stopped, the torchlight flickering over his fair face. Minerva’s heart leapt with joy.
“Hail and welcome,” Minerva said softly, and Tom shrugged out of his clothing and blessed himself, then entered the henge.
“Merry meet my love,” Tom replied.
“Merry meet,” Minerva replied in turn, and rose to her feet. She had come before the altar naked, as she always did, and Tom had shed his clothes as well when he entered the henge. They came together without another word, their bodies fitting as perfectly as ever. They kissed eagerly, and then Tom laid her on the altar, gently parting Minerva’s legs. She opened to him willingly, and then he was over her, inside her, murmuring ancient prayers for the blessing of children.
“Oh Minerva,” Tom murmured as he lay with her on the altar after they had sated themselves. “How soon may we wed?”
“Soon,” Minerva murmured. “I am at my most fertile time. You may have put a child in me already.” Tom moaned softly, turned on at the thought of impregnating her. He rolled back on top of her, hardening with anticipation. “Yes,” she gasped. “Give me your child, Tom, please, bless me, bless our union, join us this holy night.” He groaned softly, and pushed into her.
The second coupling was just as intense and tender as the first, and Minerva felt, rather superstitiously, as if she could feel herself becoming pregnant. They made love through the night, and then through the longest day, chanting rituals of health and prosperity and long life. When the sun rose again the day after midsummer, they went together to Gringotts, and there signed the bonding contract.
They moved quietly into Mere Haven, and while Tom could not be happy idle, he could plan, and soon had a job, again as an Unspeakable. As in their earlier life together, he conducted his own research as well. This time, Minerva became an Unspeakable as well, and they happily spent the next few years having and raising children and conducting research. Slowly Tom eased into the political arena as Lord Slytherin, and while there was opposition, it wasn’t as coordinated as it had been the previous life.
Tom gained traction slowly in the Wizengamot, but by the time their fifth child was born, he had the traditionalist faction sewn up, and was starting to make headway on his agenda. It helped that his independent research was so well thought of, as was Minerva’s. Their open adherence to the Old Religion and their easy talk of their traditional values won over yet more allies.
By the time their eldest, a daughter called Nausicaa, entered Hogwarts, Tom had assumed the position of leader of the traditionalist faction. Slowly by slowly they implemented their reforms. Minerva took the Slytherin seat on the Hogwarts Board of Governors, and with her there, and Tom in the Wizengamot, they once again began to change the world. Eileen was born, again to her mother and Regulus Black, although this time her father discovered Lady Cosima’s infidelity sooner, and Eileen was cast out of House Prince as a child. Regulus took Lady Cosima in though, and claimed Eileen as a Black.
The Blacks, being members of Tom’s faction, socialized with the Riddles often, and Minerva took it upon herself to be a steady female influence in Eileen’s life, as Lady Cosima was more interested in parties and dancing than her daughter. Eileen became, in this life, their daughter in all but name, as they had always regarded Severus. At twenty, she married their eldest son, Valerius, and Severus was born Minerva’s grandson in truth.
It was no surprise to either Tom or Minerva when Severus wrote home from his first day at Hogwarts to say he had a new best friend, a muggleborn witch named Lily Evans. He was sorted to Slytherin as ever, but Albus’ influence was impacted enough that the bullying prevalent in Minerva’s first life was all but rooted out. There were a few scrapes and adventures through the years, but nothing too terrible, although Severus seemed incapable of getting along with James Potter and Sirius Black.
Again Severus became an Unspeakable, a profession he was almost perfectly suited to. This time though, he did not find his mate so young. He was courted by Lucius, but didn’t fall for the blonde this time. It was rather to Minerva’s surprise then, when Lily and James’ young son, Harry, joined the Department of Mysteries as a twenty year old, and Severus fell almost immediately head over heels for him. They were suited though, in ways that neither Severus and Abraxas nor Severus and Lucius were. James Potter wasn’t best pleased by the arrangement, but it was clear fairly quickly who in the relationship was doing the pursuing, and it wasn’t Severus.
Their boy made a beautifully blushing bride, resplendent in his virgin white robes as he knelt with Harry before the altar. So Severus became Harry’s bonded, and gave him many beautiful children. At almost two hundred years of age, Minerva lay quietly in her deathbed. Her family was once more gathered around her, and she could see Tom’s shade waiting just the other side of the Veil. This close to death, she had learned, the veil became translucent.
“I’m coming my love,” Minerva murmured, and then turned her eyes back to the living. “I shall go soon, to be with Tom. I don’t want any of you to follow too close behind,” she warned. They kissed her one by one goodbye, and Minerva smiled, and closed her eyes. Strong, warm hands stroked her hair, and she smiled. “Hello Tom.”
As I haven't written for HP fandom before, I don't know the comms. Suggestions appreciated.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: multiple, explicit het and implicit slash.
Rating: R for language, sex, and death
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling and a bunch of other rich Brits. Nothing but the briefly mentioned OCs and plot belong to wrennette, and she isn't making any money off this.
Summary: A cat animagus, even in human form, is still a cat. Minerva has nine lives to figure out how to save the world.
Notes: I seem to have fallen into at least reading in the HP fandom. We'll see what happens. Profligate use of minor characters, OCs, and reincarnation/timey-wimeyness.
WARNING: This fic has repeated and sometimes explicit character deaths.
The first time Minerva McGonagall dies, she doesn’t have time for regrets. There’s simply noise and fire and sharp, searing pain, and then she is sitting beneath the willow next to Loch Dubh, the giant squid waving lazily at her and the solidness of Hogwarts’ familiar wards encompassing her. She sat, and thought, for a very long time, before Elphinstone settled beside her.
“Hello love,” Elphinstone greeted.
“I’m really dead then?” Minerva asked, and Elphinstone smiled.
“Really. Although, not entirely. There’s something - odd - about the magic that allows a person to become a cat. They’re fairly magical creatures themselves after all,” Elphinstone said. Minerva gasped softly.
“Nine lives,” Minerva whispered, for she had heard that old tale too, but never set much store by it. Elphinstone nodded. “So I can’t - I won’t be staying here with you then?”
“Not for a while longer,” Elphinstone admitted. “But just think my love, of all you might change. All the suffering you might prevent.” At that, Minerva’s severe face broke into a wondrous sort of smile.
“Do I start over from the very beginning?” Minerva asked.
“No, only from when you got that cat magic,” Elphinstone said in a teasing tone.
“Sixteen then,” Minerva said with a nod. “That’s plenty early enough,” she said, thinking about handsome Tom Riddle. He had been interested in her, she thought, although he had been enough years ahead of her they didn’t interact much. When she had been sixteen, he had been already graduated and living in London, clerking, as she remembered it, at Borgin and Burke’s. Still. It would be worth an effort.
So it came to pass that the second time she died, Minerva was standing straight backed and proud in front of Tom and his syncophants, her chin raised defiantly. Her mouth tasted of blood, and she hadn’t changed half of what she meant to. She smiled, that clever smile that pissed Tom off to no end.
“I’ll see you soon Tom,” Minerva said gently, and in a flash of green, she opened her eyes by Loch Dubh.
“That was quick,” Elphinstone teased when he joined her, and Minerva snorted.
“Wrong strategy,” Minerva admitted. Her hindsight had always been exceptionally clear.
“Plot better then, my Queen,” Elphinstone said. “You only have so many chances.”
“What if I get it right while I’ve still lives left?” Minerva asked.
“Use them to live out your days on the Riviera,” Elphinstone suggested, and Minerva chortled softly, then dissolved into girlish giggles that matched the sixteen year olds body she wore her.
Her next life, Minerva plotted like the most cunning of Slytherins, utilizing every trick she had ever learned from Tom, Severus, and the great manipulator himself, Albus Dumbledore. She died at Severus’ hands that go round, his dark eyes cold and flat as he watched the poison froth on her lips. The White Witch was dead, long live the Dark Lord. She sighed as Elphinstone joined her.
“Better or worse?” Elphinstone asked.
“Worse,” Minerva said disconsolately, tearing the grass from the lawn. “Far worse. One of my favorite students and best friends poisoned me.”
“Well, you certainly don’t do boring, do ye lass?” Elphinstone asked, and Minerva snorted softly.
“I think I may skip out on teaching this next go ‘round,” Minerva decided. And so it came to pass that she once again died on the wand of Tom Riddle. He was going by Voldemort by then though, but she made it to the 1970s, and would be remembered in that branching of the world tree as the first witch to make the cut as an Auror, and one of the most feared Aurors in all of Britain.
“Four down,” Elphinstone mused as he joined her on the banks of Loch Dubh.
“This last time went closer to the way I wanted it to,” Minerva said contemplatively. “I was an Auror. That was fun.” Elphinstone chortled softly. “I’ll see you soon enough,” she said, and stood, brushing off her skirt. “I have an idea.” Elphinstone smiled wryly, and Minerva leaned down to kiss his forehead. “What happens next?” she asked, looking off into the setting sun.
“Haven’t the foggiest m’dear,” Elphinstone admitted. “I’ve been waiting here for you.” Minerva hesitated, then nodded.
“I shall endeavour to make you wait even longer,” Minerva said decisively, and then she was blinking and shifting from cat back to human after her first successful animagus transformation. She took the route into the Aurory again this time, but she was more politic. She kept a closer eye on Tom, and a more careful one. In 1976 she lost her leg, but that was a sight better than losing her life. Rather than ride a desk at the DMLE, she applied for the perennially open DADA position at Hogwarts.
“Good morning, I’m Auror First Class McGonagall, Professor to you,” Minerva greeted her first class. “The magic you learn in this class has the potential to be extremely dangerous. If I catch you messing about, and I will catch you, you shall leave my class and not return. There are no exceptions. I don’t care who you are, who your parents are, or who your grandparents are.” She gave them all the gimlet eye, and was pleased to see she had Severus’ rapt attention.
Severus’ devotion to her was secured when she caught the Marauders after him and not only scolded them, but refused to let them wriggle out of detention. The second time, the detention lasted a month. The third time, she got them kicked out of Hogwarts for the remainder of the year, even Remus Lupin. Her fifth death was at the hands of Sirius Black, who was unhinged by the thought of being returned to his parents. Severus was in Azkaban a week later for killing his classmate in retribution.
“Teaching is seriously detrimental to a long lifetime,” Minerva groused when Elphinstone joined her. He just smiled, and took her hand. She smiled back, holding on for a while, watching the sun refract of the ripples of the loch. Eventually though, she rose and straightened her uniform deftly. They kissed softly in parting, and Minerva walked alone down to Hogsmeade station. She boarded the otherwise empty Express when it steamed into the station, this part of the journey almost familiar now. A whistle, and she was opening her eyes as she regained human form in 1951.
As in all her lifetimes, the demand for Aurors was high in the aftermath of Grindelwald and Hitler. Again Minerva answered the call, and again she became the first female Auror, and a sort of legend in her own time. This time though, when the ICW invited her to join their task force, she accepted, and so it was she stood at cross wands with Tom Riddle in a moonlight Albanian forest.
Riddle was devastatingly handsome, and Minerva had loved him, always, and perhaps always would in her way. Abraxas Malfoy stood pale and arrogant at Tom’s right hand, Fenrir Greyback at his left. Minerva was alone and knew she was well outclassed. This would be her sixth death then, she anticipated. And then - then Tom surprised her.
“Hold,” Tom commanded, lowering his wand slightly but not disarming. “What brings you here McGonagall?”
“The ICW is wary of your researches,” Minerva said, which was the truth. “Grindelwald’s war has nearly exposed us to Muggle scrutiny. If the Statute fails, our world falls. They’re afraid you’re poking about in Grindelwald’s mess, looking to pick up his banner.” Tom cocked his head, then shook it.
“No, I have no desire for war. Knowledge, yes. Power to change our world, yes. But I would have us protected, secreted even more securely away from muggles,” Tom said.
“Grindelwald will provide you with none of the answers you seek,” Minerva warned. “If separation is your aim, what does Albania of all places offer?” That of course was a trick question. She knew quite well that Tom was on a treasure hunt for Ravenclaw’s diadem.
“There is talk of a treasure in these woods,” Tom said. “I have no other way to fund a political campaign.” Minerva was the one to cock her head this time, her eyes measuring with a wisdom beyond her physical years.
“I can only pay so much to the coffers,” Abraxas said. He was not yet Lord Malfoy, Minerva realized. His grandfather, old Brutus, still held the title, and the old man more than lived up to his name.
“With your grades Tom, and your intelligence, you might do anything,” Minerva said. “A political campaign, no, they would not fund that. But I know very well that there is research funded through the ICW that might help you make the points to drive a campaign. We all of us with a brain know that more muggleborns come into our world each year, and that many of them return to the muggle world once they graduate. We all know that squibs, too, are born more frequently now than ever before.”
“Are you actually agreeing with me?” Tom asked bemusedly.
“I am stating known facts that support the position that we need to integrate muggle borns better, not scare them away. That we need to move away from the oligarchical structure the British Ministry has been organized into these past however many generations. That we need to hide ourselves well so that no government can do to us what the Americans have done to Nagasaki and Hiroshima,” Minerva said firmly, her chin lifting in defiance.
Tom smirked, and sheathed his wand. He crossed the moonlit clearing and pulled Minerva into a rough embrace. His mouth was hot and hard on hers, and she moaned helplessly. Her knees gave way, and she felt the dizzying lurch of apparition, and then she was pushed against a rough door and Tom’s hand was down the front of her trousers, his fingers curling into her. Minerva moaned, and she wet herself spectacularly as he rubbed her swollen clitoris.
“Tom,” Minerva gasped, and then her trousers were around her ankles and his erection was thick inside her and she had never been so thoroughly aroused in her life. Minerva moaned, rubbing her erect nipples against Tom’s firm chest. She struggled with his robes, kissing his mouth, his neck, his shoulders. It was a rough, animalistic fuck, and they collapsed, entangled to the floor in the aftershocks.
“Merciful Merlin,” Minerva murmured when she could form a sentence, and Tom chuckled softly.
“We probably shouldn’t have done that,” Tom said in his rich, soft voice. “But you looked so damn gorgeous in that uniform, with that fire in your eyes, and I haven’t been offered hope or a path towards success in so very long.”
“I don’t regret it,” Minerva answered softly, and carefully stood. She hadn’t been so enthusiastically taken in quite some time, and felt rather tender between the legs. It felt impossibly good. “I’ve been tracking you months, and this isn’t exactly the outcome my supervisor wanted, but so long as you don’t file a complaint, and you’re not plotting to overthrow the Ministry and declare yourself the Dark Lord?” Tom laughed softly.
“I’d rather order tea and then fuck you again,” Tom admitted, and Minerva laughed softly, then glanced about.
“Bathroom?” Minerva asked.
“Sorry, only in the hall,” Tom said wryly. “This wasn’t exactly planned.”
“No,” Minerva agreed. “Not in the least.” She snorted softly. “Well, I’m not due to report in for a few more days. Fancy a trip to Zurich, courtesy the ICW?” she offered, and Tom blinked, then grinned.
“Sure, why not. Brax has his own arrangements, and Merlin only knows with Fen. Any side benefits to this trip?” Tom asked with a leer.
“You mean will I let you diddle me again?” Minerva asked in reply, raising her eyebrow, and Tom’s leer grew more pronounced. She scoffed, then stood and sauntered to the bed, laying down and spreading her legs, trailing her hand over her small, pert breasts and then down between her legs. Tom stood, his leer traded for a look of intense desire, and then he was between her legs, fisting himself back to erection.
“I want your mouth on me,” Minerva murmured huskily, and he complied. She moaned. He was so very good at pleasuring her. His mouth and hands and thick erection seemed purpose built to drive her insane with lust. Minerva was soon on her hands and knees, whimpering with need as Tom took her from behind. The next few days as they travelled to Zurich were definitely interesting, and Minerva was even more pleased when she was reassigned from field investigations to the ICW branch that was similar to the Ministry’s Unspeakables, with Tom as her partner.
Tom could be insufferable of course. There were days when Minerva simply wanted to hex him senseless and leave him tied up in her office. When she was having one of those days though, she would corner him in some little used alcove or nook out of sight, and they would end up going at it like minks. Against every single stricture they had on workplace behavior of course, but that was half the fun. She hadn’t been a Gryffindor for nothing.
Too soon though, the British Aurory demanded her back, all field agents were being recalled. So they kissed goodbye, and she was back to London. At first she thought her lethargy was simply due to missing Tom and their myriad interesting projects back in Zurich. And then she started sicking up of a morning, and had a rather unwelcome realization. The first chance she got, she went to Mungos, and when her suspicion was confirmed, she was on the next international portkey to Switzerland.
Tom came home to London with her, his always pale face even paler at the prospect of fatherhood. She applied to transfer from field operations, and when her boss started whinging about how poor her timing was at getting pregnant, she gave her notice and applied for the Defense job at Hogwarts, only to find that Tom had also applied for it. Minerva hurriedly withdrew her application, and enquired about family housing and the Transfiguration position. Both, thankfully, were available, and when September first rolled around she was Madam Minerva Riddle, for the first time in all her lives.
Albus was wary of Tom of course, he always was, no matter which lifetime Minerva was in. This was the first time he had been openly wary of her as well though, and it hurt a bit, not to have her old mentor’s trust. But she had even in her first life come to understand that Albus tried too hard to do too much for the big picture. He lost sight of individuals in his machinations, and usually everyone ended up hurt. Minerva was more concerned with individuals. With Tom, and when they came, Severus and Lily.
By the time Severus and Lily arrived, Minerva was Head of Gryffindor again, however begrudgingly on Albus’ part, and Tom was, even more begrudgingly on Albus’ part, Head of Slytherin. Slughorn had happily retired some time ago, around the time that the elder Gaunt’s died and Tom came into the Lordship of House Slytherin. With Tom’s sharp eyes on his house though, Severus’ abuse was caught out quickly, and Tom had already become politically powerful enough to have child protection legislation passed in the Wizengamot.
Minerva rode much tighter herd on her Gryffindors than she had in her first life, not letting them, or Albus, get away with anything. She had done so from the start, and as a result had a reputation as fearsome as Severus’ had been in her first life. It amused her, to watch him grow up again, all big eyes and curiosity, and so clever it hurt her head. Severus was soon Tom and her personal protege, their chosen child, and he was Head Boy this go round, and confident enough in himself to know that his undying affection for Lily Evans wasn’t a romantic love, but a familial one.
Tom’s old friend Abraxas sponsored Severus’ Potions Mastery, then seduced the boy to his bed. Minerva watched carefully, but it was soon clear that Abraxas was utterly besotted with the boy, and that if anyone was taking advantage, it was Severus. Lucius wasn’t terribly pleased of course, with having a stepfather who was not only five years his junior, but an impoverished half blood from a broken home. But Lucius was also far too wise to say anything against his father, or the imposing Lord and Lady Slytherin, who were unfailingly in Severus’ corner.
Minerva died for the sixth time putting herself between Lucius’ wand and Severus. She lingered a moment, touching Severus’ distraught face, then his gravid belly, and then, seeing Severus and Tom take Lucius down together, she departed. It was with a rather pleased sigh that she settled under her tree on Loch Dubh. As usual, she was alone for a while in her contemplation before someone settled at her side. This time though, it wasn’t Elphinstone who came to her.
“Hello Min,” Tom’s familiar voice said, and she looked up sharply.
“Oh, Tom,” Minerva gasped. “You gave me such a fright. I was hoping you’d still be down with Severus and the baby?”
“It’s been half a hundred years my love,” Tom said gently. “Brax actually beat me here by quite a few. I had half hoped he would find you.”
“No. But Severus? The baby?” Minerva asked hopefully.
“Both well. Lucius went to Azkaban, and Severus bore Abraxas many children, the eldest being Drakaina Minerva, and being a rather beautiful thing with black hair and silver eyes and every benefit starting out in life a child could desire,” Tom said. “She was followed by Lysander, the Malfoy Heir, and his twin Lucasta, both as fair as their father, then another son, Apollinaris, who has Abraxas’ pale hair and Severus’ dark eyes. Another girl followed Pol, Hermione, who like her eldest sister is dark haired and silver eyed and the cleverest little thing in creation.
“That was to be all, but Severus birthed one last son, some three months after Abraxas was laid in his tomb, the very image of my old friend, and named in his honour. That birth was nearly the death of Severus, between the labour and the heartbreak of doing it alone. I begged them all to come home to me, but Severus is a proud creature as well you know, and so they came not, and Drakaina is Lady Prince now, and Lysander Lord Malfoy. Drakaina made a morganatic match to Lily Evan’s eldest boy,” Tom reeled off.
“And who did Lily marry?” Minerva asked, for she had heard of no match before her death.
“She didn’t,” Tom said with a wry smile. “She had three sons, each with a different father. The first is James Potter’s boy. He chased her and chased her, as well you remember, and once he caught her, bedded her without the protection of a bond, and left her with the boy and not so much as a cent in support. He wed Miss McKinnon, and had an Heir by her, a pompous little popinjay of a lad.
“When Lily realized she was on her own, she and Remus Lupin drew close, he being the boy’s godfather, and they had a child together. Lupin was drawn into an altercation with Potter though, no one could say about what, and ended up in Azkaban himself for a time, before they executed him. He left a son with Lily as well.
“I took her and the boys in, and cared for them as she would let me, and woke up one morning with no recollection of the night before and Lily in my bed,” Tom said with a grimace. “I place no blame with her, I’d far too much to drink but that’s no excuse. I was lonely and hadn’t known a woman’s touch since you’d gone, and it’d been years. I offered to marry her, but she refused. Still, I provided for her and all three boys, and they were all as my own sons, Henry, John and Tom Evans. Henry is the one who wed Drakaina, and they are a good match. John bonded Regulus Black’s son Altair, and Tom is resolutely a bachelor.”
“Stars,” Minerva said, blinking. “I was expecting Elphinstone you know, when you sat down. Although he’s been later and later these last few times.”
“Elphinstone?” Tom asked.
“Urquhart,” Minerva said. “My first husband. I’m a cat animagus Tom. That means I get nine lives. That was number six. The best one so far, to be honest. Not the longest, but certainly the happiest. I was with you in one of the other lives as well, although you killed me then. I didn’t even reach forty.”
“Heavens,” Tom murmured. “How did that happen?”
“I was rather less than cunning about seducing you and then trying to prevent you from becoming the Dark Lord,” Minerva said with an amused quirk of the lips. Tom’s eyebrows shot up to hide below his curling fringe. Minerva let out a low, smoky chuckle. “In my first life, you created an alias, Lord Voldemort, and reigned terror for eleven years before being temporarily defeated for a further eleven years. You slowly regained power, and by 1997 had the Ministry under your control, as well as Hogwarts, through Severus as Headmaster. He killed Dumbledore in spring of ‘97, and died at your hand a year later.”
“I killed Severus?” Tom asked with soft horror.
“And Lily, and Merlin knows how many others,” Minerva said. “So you’ll understand when the first chance I got I tried to stop you. But I went about it in a rather too Gryffindorish manner. This last go round, like I said, has been the best yet. And I get three more tries to improve it further. I’ll try not to get killed by Lucius the next time. Little snot. He’s almost universally irredeemable.”
“If you go back, what happens to the rest of us?” Tom asked, and Minerva paused, stumped.
“I don’t know,” Minerva said. “I never even thought of that. I remember my previous lives, do you?” Tom’s mouth pursed into that adorable expression he always wore when thinking. He was older, Minerva thought, than herself. If his past self regained his memories then, would it be when he was likewise older than her? He looked to be about twenty-five. Would that be the age he remembered at?
“I - I almost remember,” Tom said thoughtfully. “Like a dream, or, perhaps more aptly, a nightmare.” Minerva shuddered.
“I timed meeting you right this time, although I probably shouldn’t have slept with you so quickly,” Minerva said. Tom settled behind her, and she leaned back into his warm bulk. His big, strong hands caressed down her arms, then cupped her breasts. Minerva moaned softly, squirming back against Tom. One of his hands dipped beneath her blouse to fondle her through her bra, the other sliding down her torso to touch her between the legs.
“I need you darling,” Tom panted, and Minerva turned and climbed into his lap as she had so many times before, opening his trousers and pushing aside the crotch of her knickers, sinking onto him with a moan of pleasure and relief.
“I was still a virgin at this age,” Minerva breathed, and then she was flat on her back and Tom was ravishing her. Minerva moaned eagerly. Like Tom, she had missed the physical aspects of their love. He had always been a skilled partner, pleasuring her easily and driving her to new heights, always willing to try something if it seemed it would be enjoyable. It seemed strange, that they might have sex in the afterlife, but Minerva wasn’t going to question it. She just closed her eyes and clung to Tom’s broad shoulders.
“Remember this,” Minerva all but plead when they lay spent and naked on the grass, their clothing strewn about them, Tom’s soft penis still filling her wet vagina. “Please Tom. Find me. I’ll be looking for you. We did so much good this past go ‘round. You changed so many things for the betterment of the world, kept so many children like Severus from suffering what you did.”
“I promise,” Tom murmured. “My beloved Minerva. I’ll remember, and seek you out.” They lay together a while longer, then finally dressed. Together, they walked down to the station in Hogsmeade, and boarded the train. They held hands as the Express steamed southward, mentally preparing themselves. They stepped off the train together, and the feeling of Tom’s hand wrapped around Minerva’s faded. She resumed her human form and collapsed to her knees, sobbing with heartbreak.
Three weeks after she returned for her seventh life, Minerva knew there was no mistake. She was pregnant. Which should have been impossible, since her body was that of a virgin. Every night though, she dreamed of Tom making love to her on the sunlit lakeside. The Headmaster would not have a pregnant witch at Hogwarts though, and her parents would not allow her home, unwed and ruined. She was a clever enough girl though, and it was a test, every day was a test. And then Tom walked into Borgin and Burke’s where she was clerking, and renting her mouth for a galleon a suck, and he was twenty five to her nineteen and so handsome her breath caught in her throat.
“I came as soon as I remembered,” Tom said, then vaulted the counter and swept her into his arms, kissing her feverishly.
“Oh Tom,” Minerva murmured, and smiled at him sadly. “There’s someone you need to meet.” She snapped, and the nanny elf appeared, holding their son’s hand.
“Min?” Tom breathed, eyes wide.
“This is your son, Theodore,” Minerva said quietly, lifting the little boy onto her hip.
“How?” Tom asked wonderingly.
“Do you remember between lives?” Minerva asked, and Tom’s eyes widened almost comically.
“You came back -” Tom trailed off, and Minerva nodded.
“I had to drop out of school. I’ve been working here ever since. And I - Tom,” Minerva said, her voice strained, and she turned from him with a blush. “I also ah - work nights.” Tom flushed with rage, and Minerva reached out, taking his wrist firmly in her slender fingers. “Only my mouth, I swear.” Tom bristled, but then subsided.
“I cannot fault you for doing what you must to survive,” Tom said softly. “I go to Gringotts come morning to claim what is mine. You’ll be Lady Slytherin as soon as I get things in order. I’m applying to the Department of Mysteries as well.” Minerva smiled tightly, and nodded. Three months later, they were quietly bonded in marriage, and she was Lady Slytherin for the second time. She’s married Tom more often than Elphinstone now.
Between his research work as an Unspeakable, his independent research, and his duties as Lord Slytherin, Tom was inordinately busy. Minerva could lighten his load somewhat, acting on his behalf as Lady Slytherin with a great deal of frequency. Theodore was soon joined by a younger brother, Marcus, then a daughter, Athene, and another son, Sarpedon. Their last child was a girl, Artemisia, who befriended Eileen Prince on the train up to Hogwarts when they were eleven.
When Tom could not talk Eileen’s parents out of signing a betrothal contract for her, Minerva quietly offered the girl sanctuary in their home, Peveril Keep. Two years later, Eileen showed up dirty and bedraggled, and very pregnant. It was 1959, and Minerva smiled wryly, but settled Eileen into a suite in the family wing right next to Artemisia, who had married Sharatan Potter, who would be James’ cousin once James was born. Eileen, sobbing, confessed that her mother, Cosima Prince, had lain with old Regulus Black, and he was her father, and that Caractacus Prince, who most assumed her father, had raped her when she continued refusing to bond as he wished. The child in her belly was Caractacus’, and more a Prince than she herself was.
Old Regulus was too old to be Tom’s contemporary, but they were in the same political faction, and Tom was able to draw him into a quiet conversation without too much suspicion. Regulus was rather gobsmacked to learn he had a daughter, and immediately begged Tom to see her, and take her properly into House Black. His elder brother was Lord of the household, but Eileen was accepted quickly although quietly as Regulus’ daughter. And just in time, as Regulus died within a few months of meeting her.
Upon Regulus’ death, old Arcturus, Lord Black, took Eileen into his own household, and so Severus was born a Black, and under the protection of that (in)famous house as well as House Slytherin. When the Lord Prince learned from Lord Black what his grandson had done to the girl he thought his great-granddaughter, Caractacus found himself disinherited and quietly imprisoned by the rest of the family, and the protection of House Prince extended her child.
Despite his upbringing as a pureblood, Severus was, in essence, the same clever child Minerva couldn’t help but love; her grandson, in every way that mattered. Eileen, for Minerva’s assistance in her time of need, named Minerva godmother, and Tom godfather. They spoiled the boy abominably, but it seemed no matter his make up, Severus was destined to be a stern, serious boy, bookish but creative. This lifetime Tom was his hero, and by the time Severus was seven he was adamant he’d be an Unspeakable when he grew up, just like Uncle Tom.
As Lord Slytherin, Tom had enacted a number of changes, and this time, with the memories of his previous life, he was able to do so more efficiently. Remaking the world was a rather difficult business, and Tom was always opposed. Dumbledore, of course, was wary of him as ever, but this time some of the traditionalists were just as wary, as Tom’s proposals advocated for more change than they were quite comfortable with. Still, he pressed through the most important things, and Minerva helped as well, sitting on the Board of Governors and forcing through educational reforms.
Despite being cousins, Severus and Sirius were not friends; it seemed they were destined to oppose one another. But Sirius was not so anti-traditionalist this time around, and without Voldemort causing trouble, the traditionalist cause wasn’t viewed with quite as much suspicion. As the years passed after the fall of Grindelwald, and without the threat of another Dark Lord, Dumbledore’s influence slowly faded as Tom ascended in power.
Dumbledore still favored Gryffindor inside the school of course, but Slytherin became a much more popular house. Tom held a gala at the end of each school year, with all the Slytherin students invited to attend. Those that couldn’t afford formal robes were quietly helped from his own coffers, and he gave awards for the top overall scores, as well as the top scorer in each class. The prizes were rich, and he personally mentored any Heir that wished it.
It was, in a way, using Dumbledore’s methods against him. Except Tom was so much younger and more handsome, and his methods more public, so that his generosity further polished the Slytherin name. The research he did on his own time only furthered that reputation. He was the toast of the traditionalists after a while, simply for getting over on Dumbledore, and as such, the idea of earning position gained traction.
It made a great deal of difference as Abraxas took control of House Malfoy, and even moreso as other younger Lords were Invested. They were traditionalists, but they were also interested in advancing magic. By the time Severus was of Hogwarts age, some of the more progressive Houses were even beginning to do away with the inheritance of Lordship by primogeniture. As Arcturus grew older, he began pitting his great-grandson and great-nephew against one another for the inheritance of the Black title and estates, giving Sirius and Severus good reason to work against one another.
As Severus lived at Grimsthorpe Castle with old Lord Black, he didn’t meet Lily until he was eleven on the train. Even then though, they were fast friends. Severus was a bit better socialized, and had learned how to interact better with his peers. He went to Slytherin, as he ever did, and Lily, as ever, to Gryffindor. The rivalry between the two houses was as heated as ever, but mostly encouraged by Dumbledore, who disliked Tom and mistrusted his motives. Tom at least, had nothing against Gryffindors. He had married one after all, as he liked to remind people.
Lily and Severus were at the top of their classes each year, trading the top position. They were the best of friends though, and their competition friendly. Again this life Severus had the self confidence to realize his friendship with Lily would only ever be that. And again Severus fell for a Malfoy. This time though, it was Lucius chasing him. Minerva wasn’t best pleased at that, she didn’t trust the slick blonde’s motives. But evidently Tom’s work ethic had infected most of the traditionalists, and this Lucius, while slick and ambitious as ever, was willing to do the work for his acclaim.
So Lucius chased Severus, and in time, caught him. Not though, before Severus began making his own name. This go ‘round, Severus had the familial connections to gain his Potions Mastery on his own, and did so. He was soon invited to join the Department of Mysteries, and gladly agreed. While Tom didn’t expressly work with potions, Severus also had a gift for spell creation, and was an excellent researcher. He was soon co-authoring papers with Tom on the origins of magic and the conservation and creation thereof.
Lucius and Severus wed in a lavish ceremony when Severus was 21, and been officially named Lord Prince and Heir Lord Black. Lily hadn’t wed yet by then, there would be no young Harry Potter in this world, or at least not as Lily’s son. Severus bore Lucius a daughter, Drakaina again, and almost identical to his daughter with Abraxas in the previous life. A year later, Lily finally wed, to one of Minerva’s own grandsons, Astraios, who Lily had met through her work at the Committee for Experimental Charms.
For the first time though, that lifetime Minerva passed from old age. Tom had died some ten years previous, a combination of age and experimental spellwork gone wrong. Their younger son, Sarpedon, assumed the mantle of Lord Slytherin in his stead, their eldest having become the Defense professor at Hogwarts, and Head of Slytherin there. So it was that Minerva died the seventh time, surrounded by her children and grandchildren, both adopted and biological. She smiled, and closed her eyes, and when she opened them, Tom was cradling her on the banks of Loch Dubh.
“You beat me here for once,” Minerva said fondly.
“Sorry love,” Tom said, and bent to kiss her. He was twenty five or so again, young and strong and so very handsome. “This time, I promise not to send you back pregnant,” he murmured, and Minerva laughed softly.
“Let’s wait for the children,” Minerva suggested a while later. “They’re different every time, you know.”
“I remember,” Tom said. “I miss the other ones, but I wouldn’t trade any of the ones from this life for anything. And we always get Severus and Lily, which is nice.”
“They’re good children,” Minerva said fondly.
“We’ll wait,” Tom agreed. “Do you think - do you think they could remember too?”
“I don’t know,” Minerva said. “I never expected you to be able to remember, despite how I wanted you to.”
“Snakes have a magic their own,” Tom teased, and Minerva laughed softly. He wasn’t an animagus, and they both knew it. Transfiguration in general wasn’t his strong suit, although he managed well enough for an O on his NEWTs. Still, there was something to what he said. While cats could, in stories at least, see through magic and even the Veil, snakes could part the Veil as well, if you were going on mythology and legend.
Tom and Minerva waited by the lake for who knows how long. It was impossible to truly tell time in the afterlife. Abraxas came by, to visit, but didn’t stay. Theodore came first, and told them of the long years since first Tom, and then Minerva passed away. He had married late in life, to Aurora Shacklebolt, who had ended up a Sinistra in Minerva’s first life, and they had had a few lovely children together. Sarpedon arrived next, and said he had named Lily’s son with Astraios, Bedivere, his Heir.
Severus arrived after Sarpedon, cradling his daughter with him. Minerva gently gathered Severus into her arms, cooing at the baby that would never be born. He had borne Lucius three sons and a daughter, Severus said, the most recent almost thirteen years previous. The last pregnancy had been a mistake, and Severus had known from the start it would be dangerous to carry the child to term. But he hadn’t been able to bear the thought of an abortion, and so he had persisted, and in the end, had died trying to bring his baby into the world.
Eventually, their entire extended family was around them at the edge of Loch Dubh, Lily and Astraios and all their children, and Lucius, and all his children with Severus, and down the generations that Minerva and Tom hadn’t even met. They all sat and talked for some time, and Minerva debated just staying, saying hang the next life and waiting here. But here wasn’t really a destination she knew, and so, eventually, they all walked down to the station together, and boarded the Express.
Again Tom and Minerva disembarked together, and the feel of his large warm hand around hers faded as she returned to her human form. Sinking to her knees, Minerva sobbed softly. Soon, she promised herself. Tom would be back soon. She just had to wait a few years. Minerva pushed herself those next few years, learning all she could, and not just academically. She learned the traditions she had only acquired later in her other lives, and was at the witches seminary in Bath when Tom came looking for her.
“Miss McGonagall?” the matron asked as they gossiped and worked at their stitchery one morning. Minerva looked up, and there was Tom behind her, tall and handsome, with his robes marked with his Lord of Slytherin crest.
“Madam?” Minerva replied.
“His Grace Tom Riddle of Peverell and Slytherin by Gaunt,” the matron announced rather faintly.
“Miss McGonagall,” Tom greeted, and she stood, putting away her silks.
“Your Grace,” Minerva greeted politely with a graceful curtsey, and then Tom was sweeping past the matron to pull Minerva into his arms and kiss her thoroughly. The other girls all gasped and giggled, and the matron made a faint sound of dismay. Tom deepened the kiss, and Minerva couldn’t help it. She swooned, kissing back helplessly. Tom caught her up deftly, his hands strong and firm on her small waist. “Oh, Tom,” Minerva gasped as they parted.
“Hello again my darling,” Tom murmured, and Minerva smiled up at him rather daftly. “How soon shall we wed?”
“Whenever you wish love,” Minerva replied fondly.
“Soon then,” Tom answered.
“Soon,” Minerva agreed. And three months later, with great pomp and circumstance, they bonded at the timber henge on the grounds of the Lord of Slytherin’s estate. All the Lords long allied to Slytherin were there as witnesses, and a great many others besides. This go ‘round though, the political arena seemed somehow prepared for Tom’s arrival, and he was stymied at every turn.
Minerva’s eighth death came at Albus’ wand, Tom laying cold and still across the threshold, his life given futilely in defense of hers. She only hoped that her sacrifice, like Lily’s, might save her son, a boy of but five called Tarquin. Gasping awake, Minerva burrowed into Tom’s arms. He gathered her close, still shuddering from his own death.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Tom murmured softly, and Minerva stroked his cheeks and then kissed him. He kissed back fervently, feverishly, his hands sliding up her thighs to cup her bottom beneath her skirt.
“I think Albus, or someone, must have remembered as well,” Minerva murmured when she could think properly again. “I only get one more try my love. I don’t - I want to have a good long life with you, and meet our children again.”
“Let’s live quietly at first,” Tom proposed softly. “Let them think, if they’ve any foreknowledge, that we’ve decided not to act on it for whatever reason, or that maybe this go ‘round we don’t remember. We’ll know when the time is right to act. I’ll give up everything else Min, but I won’t give up on you.”
“I’m yours my love,” Minerva promised. “Shall we go straight away?”
“Lets, before I lose my nerve,” Tom decreed, and stood. He set Minerva back on her feet, and they kissed softly once more. “I’ll find you as soon as I can.”
“Perhaps I ought wait for you?” Minerva asked softly. Tom nodded. “Each midsummer, I’ll come to the timber henge at Mere Haven,” Minerva promised.
“I’ll head there as soon as I remember and put my soul back together properly,” Tom promised.
“We’ll be together again then, soon,” Minerva promised, and Tom nodded sharply, then kissed her again. Together they walked to the station and boarded the train, and too soon Minerva was waking to life. She sighed softly, smoothing her uniform. This was her last chance. She nodded firmly to herself, and went about the business of being sixteen one last time.
Each midsummer, she made pilgrimage to the timber henge, and there knelt in vigil from sundown to sundown. It was the fifth summer when she saw the tall, trim silhouette of a man approach as the moon crested the horizon. Minerva watched him from her place of vigil within the henge. He had Tom’s height, his breadth across the shoulders. At the edge of the henge, he stopped, the torchlight flickering over his fair face. Minerva’s heart leapt with joy.
“Hail and welcome,” Minerva said softly, and Tom shrugged out of his clothing and blessed himself, then entered the henge.
“Merry meet my love,” Tom replied.
“Merry meet,” Minerva replied in turn, and rose to her feet. She had come before the altar naked, as she always did, and Tom had shed his clothes as well when he entered the henge. They came together without another word, their bodies fitting as perfectly as ever. They kissed eagerly, and then Tom laid her on the altar, gently parting Minerva’s legs. She opened to him willingly, and then he was over her, inside her, murmuring ancient prayers for the blessing of children.
“Oh Minerva,” Tom murmured as he lay with her on the altar after they had sated themselves. “How soon may we wed?”
“Soon,” Minerva murmured. “I am at my most fertile time. You may have put a child in me already.” Tom moaned softly, turned on at the thought of impregnating her. He rolled back on top of her, hardening with anticipation. “Yes,” she gasped. “Give me your child, Tom, please, bless me, bless our union, join us this holy night.” He groaned softly, and pushed into her.
The second coupling was just as intense and tender as the first, and Minerva felt, rather superstitiously, as if she could feel herself becoming pregnant. They made love through the night, and then through the longest day, chanting rituals of health and prosperity and long life. When the sun rose again the day after midsummer, they went together to Gringotts, and there signed the bonding contract.
They moved quietly into Mere Haven, and while Tom could not be happy idle, he could plan, and soon had a job, again as an Unspeakable. As in their earlier life together, he conducted his own research as well. This time, Minerva became an Unspeakable as well, and they happily spent the next few years having and raising children and conducting research. Slowly Tom eased into the political arena as Lord Slytherin, and while there was opposition, it wasn’t as coordinated as it had been the previous life.
Tom gained traction slowly in the Wizengamot, but by the time their fifth child was born, he had the traditionalist faction sewn up, and was starting to make headway on his agenda. It helped that his independent research was so well thought of, as was Minerva’s. Their open adherence to the Old Religion and their easy talk of their traditional values won over yet more allies.
By the time their eldest, a daughter called Nausicaa, entered Hogwarts, Tom had assumed the position of leader of the traditionalist faction. Slowly by slowly they implemented their reforms. Minerva took the Slytherin seat on the Hogwarts Board of Governors, and with her there, and Tom in the Wizengamot, they once again began to change the world. Eileen was born, again to her mother and Regulus Black, although this time her father discovered Lady Cosima’s infidelity sooner, and Eileen was cast out of House Prince as a child. Regulus took Lady Cosima in though, and claimed Eileen as a Black.
The Blacks, being members of Tom’s faction, socialized with the Riddles often, and Minerva took it upon herself to be a steady female influence in Eileen’s life, as Lady Cosima was more interested in parties and dancing than her daughter. Eileen became, in this life, their daughter in all but name, as they had always regarded Severus. At twenty, she married their eldest son, Valerius, and Severus was born Minerva’s grandson in truth.
It was no surprise to either Tom or Minerva when Severus wrote home from his first day at Hogwarts to say he had a new best friend, a muggleborn witch named Lily Evans. He was sorted to Slytherin as ever, but Albus’ influence was impacted enough that the bullying prevalent in Minerva’s first life was all but rooted out. There were a few scrapes and adventures through the years, but nothing too terrible, although Severus seemed incapable of getting along with James Potter and Sirius Black.
Again Severus became an Unspeakable, a profession he was almost perfectly suited to. This time though, he did not find his mate so young. He was courted by Lucius, but didn’t fall for the blonde this time. It was rather to Minerva’s surprise then, when Lily and James’ young son, Harry, joined the Department of Mysteries as a twenty year old, and Severus fell almost immediately head over heels for him. They were suited though, in ways that neither Severus and Abraxas nor Severus and Lucius were. James Potter wasn’t best pleased by the arrangement, but it was clear fairly quickly who in the relationship was doing the pursuing, and it wasn’t Severus.
Their boy made a beautifully blushing bride, resplendent in his virgin white robes as he knelt with Harry before the altar. So Severus became Harry’s bonded, and gave him many beautiful children. At almost two hundred years of age, Minerva lay quietly in her deathbed. Her family was once more gathered around her, and she could see Tom’s shade waiting just the other side of the Veil. This close to death, she had learned, the veil became translucent.
“I’m coming my love,” Minerva murmured, and then turned her eyes back to the living. “I shall go soon, to be with Tom. I don’t want any of you to follow too close behind,” she warned. They kissed her one by one goodbye, and Minerva smiled, and closed her eyes. Strong, warm hands stroked her hair, and she smiled. “Hello Tom.”
As I haven't written for HP fandom before, I don't know the comms. Suggestions appreciated.
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Date: 7 February 2015 08:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 3 September 2015 02:57 am (UTC)