Author's notes: After a long hiatus from the Harry Potter world this fic sprung to mind fully formed. It's a Dark!Minerva, which I haven't done before, so hopefully it won't be too shite.
Enjoy and please review; they mean a great deal.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter; it is the property of J.K Rowling
Summary: She watches from a distance and waits.
The vow they make is unbreakable, in the literal sense, and Minerva watches, enthralled, as the serpent of fire wraps around her and Tom's wrists, forming a bond that cannot be broken unless by death.
And neither of them wants to die.
No, re-phrase; Tom doesn't want to die, Minerva just wants to live long enough to leave her mark in the history books. An indelible mark that says 'I was here and I did this.' Deep down she knows this means that Tom will most likely kill her, to rid himself of a 'problem' when he has discovered immortality, but that won't be for some time. He needs her, more than he knows.
Minerva smiles as there is a blinding flash of light and the serpent disappears.
There, fate sealed, the wizarding world will have to get ready.
She and Tom don't love each other, the two scorn such words, but they find themselves a workable relationship that is mutually beneficial.
Throwing in a fuck or two seems natural.
As they fall onto the bed sheets she allows herself a brief moment of introspection. They have been out of school for three years now, Tom finding himself a job at Borkin and Burkes, whilst she joined the Auror force, fighting against Grindlewald. He is weak, Grindlewald, his aims are short-term, he doesn't see far into the future. He sees a world where he rules supreme, but hasn't taken into account his death.
She and Tom are different.
They will reign supreme, in both the muggle and wizarding world, but Tom will live forever, ensuring their legacy remains.
So she fights the 'Dark' Side where she truly belongs, a 'traitor' to the Dark cause, but for now that is irrelevant.
Dumbledore disallows Tom a position at Hogwarts, which incenses both of them greatly. They talk at night, angry at the old man for his meddlesomeness. It comes as a welcome surprise when Dumbledore contacts her the next day, offering her the same position he has just refused Tom. Then again, she has always been a favourite of Dumbledore's, her intelligence and talent far and above most who attended Hogwarts, whilst she was also a 'noble' Gryffindor. Who else better to teach young minds?
Who better to turn young minds?
That night Tom and Minerva toast each other, the red wine swilling in their glasses, almost spilling over the edges.
It is all falling into place.
Macnair, Dolohov, Nott, Malfoy, Black, Lestrange...
The old families are the easiet to turn, they are brought up with the belief in pure-blood supremacy, and it takes little effort for their off-spring to be turned. She obliviates them afterward of course, wiping their memories of their meetings and replacing them with encounters with Tom himself, instilling a fear into them which she finds amusing.
The Tom of their memory, of her creation, is even more deadly than the reality.
And that is saying something.
The girl is something else entirely, so like Minerva with their beauty and intelligence and ruthlessness, though Minerva suspects there is a madness behind those dark blue eyes which will only become more pronounced as she learns the darkest of magic.
Bellatrix is a liability, Minerva knows this, she should be killed before she is truly lost to insanity, but Minerva can't bring herself to say the two simple words, avada kedavra, not when Bellatrix so happily drinks in everything she is taught, from both Minerva and Tom himself.
No, she can't, not just yet.
She will later, of that she is certain.
The war is raging, neither side is winning, but the odds are tipped in the Dark Side's favour as she breathes lies into Dumbledore's ear, about the sheer number of Voldemort's supporters, of their favoured hidden lairs, of their expansive knowledge which grows daily as she and Tom experiment, playing with magic like a child's toy.
The old man doesn't suspect that his friend, his best friend, could be the reason they are losing.
Arrogance is one of Dumbledore's faults.
One of Tom's as well, but he has the will to take over the world so she forgives him.
The name is bitter in her mouth; how could a baby be Tom's downfall? Temporary downfall, she amends, she is certain he will return, but a baby? She flicks her tail as she waits on the Dursley's brick wall. She knows this is where Dumbledore will arrive and sure enough, minutes later, he apparates onto the street with a 'crack', holding a bundle in his arms.
As she and Dumbledore talk, she ponders if she should kill the boy here and now.
She decides against it. Only a select handful of people know where Harry is, and blame would eventually fall at her feet if anything should happen to the boy.
No, she will wait.
He doesn't look like much, Harry Potter, and she watches him closely as he approaches the Sorting Hat. He is short, skinny, with a mop of black hair that doesn't lie flat. He sits down, the hat nearly falling over his eyes, and she waits as the Sorting Hat makes its decision.
How entirely predictable.
The office is cold but Minerva doesn't shiver as she sits down behind the heavy, oak desk. It feels right for her to be here, no, it is right for her to be here. Tom has manipulated his way back into the wizarding world, through Ginevra Weasley, and it is only a matter of time before he is reborn. Minerva doesn't kid herself, it will be a hard road ahead, pretending to be loyal to Dumbledore whilst secretly plotting his demise, but she has always welcomed a challenge. Now, as she reclines back into the Headmaster's chair, she allows a rare smile to touch her lips.
She will fight the good fight...
Maybe not the good fight, but she'll give as good as she's got.
And she's got a great deal.
Somehow, Dumbledore manages to ensure that Tom does not rise back from the dead, not yet. She feels annoyed as she stands in her office, but clutches her hand to her breast and inhales deeply, pretending to be shocked at Potter's actions. Inside, she is fuming. It was bad enough when the boy survived twelve years ago but for him to live again at Tom's expense...
Potter's time will come, of that she is certain.
For now though, she must wait. So Minerva straightens her pointed hat and walks out of her office, leaving Dumbledore and the boy behind. She passes Lucius Malfoy in the hall but he doesn't spare her a second glance.
She obliviated him well.
The Tri-Wizard Tournament is in full-swing and Minerva gnaws her nails as Potter and Diggory enter the maze. Dumbledore touches her shoulder, no doubt thinking she is concerned about her students, but in truth Minerva is waiting for Tom. He contacted her, through various sources, over a year ago, and she has been working ever since to ensure his resurrection is successful. Being a Hogwarts Professor gives her access to the darkest of texts, add that to her ability to disappear through an animagus transformation or Disallusionment Charm, and there was little doubt the right text would fall into Tom's hands. Add that to a few little spells of her own, helped by the venom of Nagini, and...
Well, it was only a matter of hours and she would see what her work would culminate to.
She straightens her shoulders and offers a small smile at Dumbledore who casts her that infernal patronising gaze.
Barty Crouch's cover is blown and she fights the urge to curse. She forces herself to concentrate and focuses on the prescient problem. Dumbledore has a vial of veritaserum and whilst she has the antidote, there won't be time to administer it.
Thankfully Fudge insists on bringing a dementor with him onto the school grounds.
She lets it kiss Barty.
So he suffered a fate worse than death.
Deep down she can't bring herself to care.
Tom is back and their work can begin again. She listens carefully to Dumbledore, and learns of Tom's true weakness, his inability to understand love.
So she teaches him.
Love predates obsession, so she helps Tom turn back the clock, teaches him to fall in 'love' with his quest for immortality. He is a willing student, and soon he understands. It leads them into unchartered waters when his reliance on her changes into something else.
A fuck or two is now not enough.
They do the best they can.
The dementors are on-side once again and the prisoners of Azkaban return to their rightful positions in Voldemort's Inner Circle. As she suspected Bellatrix had stepped over the line from sanity to insanity but is still useful so Minerva lets her live.
The girl stayed loyal for fourteen years.
She deserves to live a little longer.
Severus is sent back as a spy and Tom feeds him false information. In the background, Minerva recruits. Draco Malfoy, of course, could easily be turned but he is spineless and she makes sure to warn Tom that he is of little true use. Tom knows this and sets Draco a little task.
Minerva is slightly surprised, but after a little probing of Severus' mind, sees the brilliance in his plan. Severus made the Unbreakable Vow with Narcissa, so Dumbledore will undoubtedly die.
The funeral is spectacular; Minerva has to admit as she wipes away a carefully timed tear. Moody offers her a sympathetic look and she nods back, making sure to make her chin quiver as if she were holding back sobs. In truth, she is elated. Tom's plan is falling neatly into place. Severus is Headmaster, and Tom manipulates as only he knows how. Unwittingly, Severus carries out Tom's true orders, whilst thinking he is doing the opposite.
Minerva acts the part of an angry friend, spitting insults whenever she can, colluding with the remnants of the Order, cementing her position as the Leader of the Light. She allows them a few, small, victories, enough so they think the Light is winning, and feels the slightest twinge of guilt that she is leading her true colleagues to a certain death.
She gets over it quickly.
The 'golden trio' are on a mission of some sort, one that is supposedly top secret, but Minerva knows they are looking for Tom's Horcruxes. So she sets false ones, replicas that are so accurate she herself is amazed by how real they appear, right down to the apparition of Tom that appears, goading them on, driving a wedge between the three until Ronald Weasley leaves Potter and Granger.
Teenage angst; how terrifyingly predictable.
Bellatrix is a hazard and Minerva sighs as she approaches the Malfoy Manor, her wand held tightly in her hand. The time has come for Bellatrix to be 'disposed' of and Minerva feels genuine regret. Of all the Death Eaters, Bellatrix is the one who reminds Minerva most of herself. In their youths the two were uncannily alike, their talent and looks nigh surpassed, but now...
Bellatrix still had her talent, but she had madness to match.
Minerva was the same as she had been all those years ago.
Some things never change.
Tom is not angry when Minerva tells him what she has done. Rather, he is surprised that it has taken her to so long to get rid of a 'problem.' His words are callous, speaking of his ruthlessness... and hers.
The rest of the Death Eaters take Bellatrix's death in their stride, indeed many are happy, and Minerva bides her time carefully at Hogwarts. She needs to wait until Potter, Weasley and Granger have arrived at the school before she acts. In the background, she slips Severus a poison in his coffee, untraceable and one of her own creation.
No one sheds any tears when he is found dead in his bed the next morning.
In his absence she becomes Headmistress and she once again feels that sense of surety as she reclines back, taking in the circular room which is now hers and hers alone. As she exhales a long breath she spots Dumbledore's portrait, his expression stricken.
"You," he whispers after a pause. "You're with... with him?"
"And the penny drops," she says sarcastically.
He walks to the edge of his portrait, no doubt to warn everyone, and Minerva laughs softly when he finds himself unable to leave.
"I've done the same to all of your portraits," she said, looking at all the former Headmistress' and Headmasters, all who eye her with a combination of fury and surprise.
She smiles as she rises to her feet and walked out of the office, down the spiralling staircase.
It is nearly time.
Potter's expression is comical as she fells Granger and Weasley with a single flick of her wand. Tom wants to kill the boy himself so she waits until he is at her side.
"This is no time for grandiose announcements, Tom," she warns as he surveys Potter with a look that would terrify anyone else.
"No," he agrees.
She nods and walks away, leaving Tom and Potter to have their own exchange. The day is clear and she feels remarkably cheerful as she steps into the Great Hall. Inside, there is a veritable army, and she admits to being impressed as all heads turn towards her. Who knew that Potter would be able to garner so many supporters in such a short amount of time.
"Professor," says Ginevra Weasley, stepping forward. "We're just waiting for your word."
"I'm sorry," she says finally.
The crowd exchange glances, all unnerved as she takes a step backward. Sighing, she flicks her wand, and the doors of the Great Hall fly open, the Dark Army standing on the footsteps. Werewolves, vampires, dementors and Death Eaters surge forward and she closes her mind to the screams as she turns and walks away, knowing the carnage that will soon be left behind.
The Light will fight valiantly, she knows this, but they were against immortal foes.
The Dark Side wins, unsurprisingly, and she takes her position at Tom's right-hand side. The wizarding world is angry but for the most part they accept the new command system, perhaps knowing that resistance is futile. She sits in the Headmistress' office, going over paperwork, but her mind can't stay on the task, not when Dumbledore keeps speaking.
"You can amend your sins..."
Minerva looks up sharply and fires a curse which incinerates his portrait into a pile of ash. He appears in the next portrait, panting with exertion.
"Do not speak, Dumbledore," she says, looking over the parchment once again. "I heard enough of your rubbish when you were alive."
"You have no regrets about your part in a mass slaughter?" he says incredulously. "None at all."
Minerva sighs as she puts down her quill.
"No," she says after a moment. "It was a war, wars have casualties, and this was no exception."
He shakes his head.
"Were you always this cold?"
Minerva tilts her head a fraction to the left.
The old man says nothing further.
Minerva returns to her paperwork.
Years later, when time has taken its toll, she and Tom share a glass of wine. They are quiet as they drink, and she makes a face as the usually smooth wine burns her throat. A bitter taste is left in her mouth; black coffee and lime and bile all at once, and she realises what has happened.
"I'm sorry," Tom says as she relaxes into the armchair, her muscles suddenly slack.
She shakes her head.
As she fades in and out of consciousness, all the time approaching death, faces appear before her.
All of them asking 'why?'
As she leaves this world she gives them all the same answer.
Because I could.
Author's notes: I hope you liked.