(no subject)
Title: Love, Luck, Lust and Loss
Author: apostrophe_ess
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JKR, I merely gain from playing these games in her playground.
Pairing/Character: Minerva McGonagall (aged 21), Dora Concertare (the Capo di Magio Sinistro, of the Italian Ministry of Magic), and Tonio Veula (tall, dark, handsome and Minerva's working partner in Italy) as well as a number of other minor charecters
Word Count: 3,354
Rating: G
Summary: In Italy, on secondment from the British Ministry of Magic, life is a little different than Minerva is used to. The time has come for her to meet her working partner. All doesn't go as well as it might have done.
Author's Notes: A second story for millieweasley's history challenge **here**. If you fancy writing something historical involving our HP friends then there's still until the 18th March - plenty of time! Splendid icon for Love, Lust, Luck and Loss from the wonderful nimerha - Thank you!
Part One: here
Part Two: here
Part Three: here
Part Four: here
Part Five: here
Part Six: here
Link to part eight
Part Seven: Chapter Six, Part I - Going Down South
3rd November 1946
The meeting with Dora Concertare had surprised Minerva in several ways and had gone part way to explaining Kiely’s two week stay back in the summer when she’d first arrived in Italy.
Initially Minerva had felt quite indignant at what she perceived as Signora Concertare’s opinion that she was either vulnerable or else unable to work alone. The statuesque and imposing woman that had sat in front of her, with only a wooden desk between them, had left Minerva attempting to splutter her denial at whichever it had been. The woman had continued to speak on in her brisk Italian, hardly seeming to draw a breath at all, as she gave some background on Tonio Veulo, who was to become Minerva’s working partner. By the time Dora Concertare had finished filling Minerva in on her reason for pairing them, without ever giving her a chance to speak either to ask questions or register her objections. In the British Ministry it was, to Minerva’s knowledge at least, the case that only trainee Aurors were teamed with fully qualified and experienced colleagues while they underwent their training. Rationally Minerva could understand the basis for the decision to pair her with someone. It was clear to anyone speaking to her that she had achieved a far greater understanding of the language than she had ability to use it orally. She did have what she termed her ‘Kiely Guide’, which was excellent for translating the written word, but not helpful at all with dealing with spoken Italian. And as yet, and probably for some time, her understanding of the geography of the country was extremely limited.
All of those things made absolute sense, rationally. Perhaps due to her tiredness on that morning or to the unsettled nature of her emotions at that time, Minerva hadn’t really felt very rational. In face she’d felt anything but rational. It was probably down to those reasons that she and Tonio thing had got off to a pretty poor start in their working relationship. Tonio seemed to have the impression that Minerva didn’t like him at all, an understanding she had made no attempt to put right since, and Minerva had the impression Tonio felt he was landed with an idiot foreigner to take care of. If he wanted to think that then Minerva was sure she wasn’t going to waste any energy putting him right, he could believe what ever he wanted. It made no difference to her. No difference at all.
Dora Concertare had called Tonio Veulo into the large, ornate office which she dominated to introduce them, and then to pass some information that they were to work on for the next months together. Hardly looking up, Minerva had shaken the man’s hand and then sat forward to listen to her task. It was the whole reason she was here, not to be friendly with an Italian wizard who they could have asked to do the job alone if she wasn’t witch enough for it in their opinion.
As the minutes wore on Minerva became absorbed with the new information. The reason a witch from the British Department of Magical Cooperation was working with the Italian Capo di Magio Sinistro was becoming clearer in her mind, if not the reason that they’d chosen her in particular.
Her last visit to the Ministry of Magic had been a rush of travel arrangements and confirmations from various departments connected with the trip. It had occurred to her just how complicated the journey was going to be. Frustrated and anxious she met Alastor in the corridor where there had been a moment or two of embarrassed silence when Minerva would have liked to have given him a hug. Instead she did the only thing she could think of and blurted out a question. Why am I being handed over the border like a common felon by an Auror? I’m not dark wizard.
In true Alastor manner he had merely nodded calmly with his reply. Of course you are. There are restrictions in place. We can’t be too careful. Remember that.
That the freedom to travel from country to country hadn’t been returned to their world even after peace had was a subject often discussed over lunch in the Ministry canteen. It had been a very public defeat for Grindlewald. Dumbledore had triumphed; they were no longer in danger.
Of course like most internationally agreed policies discussed by parties with no involvement in their creation, little understanding and only a modicum of interest, the debates were naïve, biased and quite bluntly in Minerva’s opinion, uneducated. Far from the mark it was in the interest of those in the know to remain politically deaf to such discussions. If they’d troubled to correct the information then they were doing themselves a disservice. This was one of those times that the powers that be believed transparency wasn’t the way to go.
The British Ministry of Magic and its magical public might be rid of the pernicious influence that had been Grindlewald, but that didn’t mean the world was. The Muggle saying “The King is dead, long live the King” that Minerva had heard used a few times in her childhood fitted just as well in this world and for this circumstance.
Grindlewald was defeated and gone, his followers were all not. Home may now be considered safe, but the world at large wasn’t necessarily so. The Ministry of Magic in Italy had good reason to think that it now was playing host to the initial rumblings of potential trouble, and in short, not only was it seeming to blame Britain for being so, but it expected Britain to help resolve its position.
Early November, even in northern Italy, was warmer than at home in Scotland. Instead of being blown around, using constant warming charms when out of doors and always being prepared for the extreme, it was quite pleasant to wander the streets of Emilio-Romagna and Merchet where Minerva and Tonio had spent their recent weeks working.
Today they were to move further south altogether, to a small hillside village near to a purely magical community on the edge of a larger Muggle town. For a few days each year Muggles were allowed to visit Pozzuoli Lago D’Averno to hold what they termed a music festival. For a week each October, Muggles flocked to the village with their tents and their campfires. Tonio told Minerva than an old girlfriend of his had managed to see inside of one at one of the festivals. Laughingly he described how the inside of Muggles tents were nothing like the luxury they knew in their own. Muggles even slept on the floor in little more than bags made from blankets. Minerva turned from him disdainfully at the comments. Wizards, or witches, who treated Muggles as lesser beings and hardly worth the space they used up on the planet annoyed her intensely.
At this year’s festival held a few weeks earlier someone had gone missing. In itself that wasn’t very surprising to the organisers, most years someone or another would be reported missing. What was different this year was who it was who had disappeared. In previous times a few days, or sometimes perhaps a week or a fortnight later, the missing person who was usually a young hopeful musician or a girl or a boy who’d met up with someone from another part of Italy and fallen in love, would appear again at their home. They’d usually be disappointed that a musical life wasn’t going to be for them, or upset that the person they’d fallen so quickly and desperately in love with had suddenly changed once in their home surroundings. These disappearances often made the local Muggle newspapers, but rarely any more than that, perhaps a mention on the wireless at most.
This time however the missing person wasn’t a budding musician, or a girl or boy who was likely to have fallen desperately in love. Ercole Marsalis wasn’t even young at all. He’d been a popular attendant at the festival for each of the times it had taken place over the last ten years. Even though Ercole Marsalis lived as a Muggle they worked for the magical world. An unfortunate lack of magical ability didn’t have to mean a sad or sorry life on the outskirts of both types of community, but not properly belonging to either. Despite not being able to do spells or enjoy the other benefits of wandwork or magic generally, Ercole Marsalis had risen to high ranks in the secret section of the Cap Sinistra, working directly for Dora Concertare.
During the music festival Ercole Marsalis became a creature of habit and each day reported for a tot before bedtime at a local hostelry Hostaria il Briganita). By appearing to order a tot of fine grappa he’d show that everything was okay, a state reported back to Dora Concertare by another squibb, the barmaid Rosa Marco If however he ordered and drank a glass of wine it was relayed that the department should be in a state of alert. Then within an hour Ercole Marsalis would return to the bar and send another message by ordering another drink. If that drink was a simple fruit juice then it meant a team of investigadoras should be sent, whereas a coffee meant something close to a national emergency and all Hades was let lose.
For ten years Ercole Marsalis had never ordered a coffee, it had been a very long time since he’d drunk fruit juice. But for the last week he’d drunk nothing at all. Initial investigations had shown up nothing unusual whatsoever. His small house in a Muggle town far away in Italy was neat and tidy still; it looked just as if he’d popped out to buy a bag of peaches. His friends explained, ever so nicely, that he always went away at that time every year, though they weren’t sure where, and not to worry as he’d be back in a day or two.
All the attempts to trace him without blowing his cover had been used. Now it was up to Minerva and Tonio to do their best to uncover what happened and hopefully return him safely to his small house amongst his friends.
They were, later today, to arrive at Caserta with luggage enough for a week’s stay. Their cover was that of a member of another squibb working for the Ministry, Nuncia Petro’s family as Tonio, and the girl he was wishing to become engaged to, Minerva. As well as a week’s holiday at Caserta, Tonio wished to introduce his future bride to distant members of his family.
Minerva had not been impressed at the idea. As Dora had explained the carefully thought out plan and the processes for repeating their findings back to her, Minerva first attempted to protest, and then when carefully ignored had fumed inwardly.
The last six weeks had been awkward for her. By day she’d had to form a bond with Tonio, lately learning an agreed family history and being seen in various places with him. By night she’d pushed all difficult and stuffy memory of him away and let pleasant and warming thoughts of Kiely take over.
Now, from today, she was going to have to put on an act. To do her job properly she was going to have to act out the role of Tonio’s girlfriend and all that might include, which she hoped was very little.
“Minerva,” Tonio rarely knocked. If he arrived at the time they’d arranged to meet and not a moment early then he assumed she would be ready.
“Good morning.” Minerva turned and picked up her bag, packed with clothes and reading material for the week - her latest book leading to becoming an animagus was packed, charmed to appear as an Italian romance. Romances weren’t, she imagined, her cup of tea but such a tome did seem suitable for a girl of her assumed situation.
“I will take your bag.”
“No, you will not. I am quite able to carry a bag.”
“We are to be close. You are my intended for all purposes.” He held out his hand and jabbed it towards the bag.
“No Tonio. I will carry it.” Minerva hated how clipped her speech became when she was speaking Italian. If she was speaking in English he’d have understood exactly how demeaning he was being, instead she felt she just sounded difficult.
“Please give me your bag. As my future bride I do not expect you to carry it. I would be considered as nothing if I did not take care of you.”
Minerva took a sharp breath and turned towards him. “I am not your future bride. I will carry it, we are not there yet.”
“Minerva, do not make a fuss. You will draw attention to us.” Instead of raising his voice Tonio was speaking softly to her, almost as if he were calming a naughty child.
“Draw attention?” Minerva made a sound under her breath that closely resembled a little like pfffft. “We are in my apartment. You are here as my guest, despite your rudeness. No-one will hear us.” Resolutely and quite finally Minerva picked up her bag, opened the door to the courtyard with her wand and signalled towards it. “After you. I wish to lock the door. Properly, so no-one will enter uninvited.”
There was a definite atmosphere between them now. It had replaced the void which had existed since their first meeting. Despite working together for the last weeks Minerva couldn’t have said what colour eyes Tonio had. They were probably dark; that would have been her best guess. Most Italians with dark hair, and dark skin like he seemed to have dark eyes so there was every chance they would be.
After a coffee in her least favourite café on the Piazza and with distinct unease and awkwardness Minerva reluctantly passed her bag to Tonio before Apparating to Caserta.
The guest house where they were to stay seemed pleasant enough. The girl who greeted them took an obvious interest in Tonio, tossing her hair over her shoulders, smiling widely, and giggling softly towards him. Tonio responded by calling Minerva from the shadows in a corner where she’d stood and introduced her as his intended, his arm firmly around her waist. The girl flounced off and called in a leering old man who winked in exaggerated fashion to Tonio, eyed Minerva slowly up and down, and as he just about drooled let his gaze linger on her chest for far too long for her liking. That he’d given them two linked rooms, one with a very comfortable double bed, was met with a knowing look to her from Tonio and a mutual wink between the two men. Could the day get any worse?
Winter sun and gorgeous surroundings were a wonderful treat. It had been a good idea of Tonio’s to go out for a walk and explore the site of the music festival, which was held on a green right in the middle of a large stone built area. To witches and wizards the village, for she couldn’t think what else to call it, was stunning. Many tiny tiny houses all joined to each other made three large sides of a large square with a large green in front of them which sloped steeply away where the buildings finished. A secret from the front, if that’s what faced the green, at the back of the houses was another layer of homes, cut into the mountain and underneath the other houses.
The buildings were all charmed to look like little more than rubble to any Muggles who might stray there during the year, as well as the ones that attended the music festival. The walls seemed decrepit and fallen down and far too dangerous to climb even by the wildest children; the local Muggles kept their children away as there were generations of stories of how perilous the wreck was.
Minerva couldn’t imagine what living there that October week must be like for the residents. Not only did they have hundreds of Muggles living literally on their doorsteps, but they were virtual prisoners in their own homes, unable to leave when they wished, or to make very much noise even. It was no wonder that those who could left the area and took their own holidays at that time.
Coupled with her good humour at the afternoon’s walk, Minerva found Tonio interesting today. Usually when he told her of customs or the history of wherever they were visiting she took the information in with little acknowledgement other than a few questions. Today the whole situation fascinated her.
Shortly after arriving in view of the houses they’d noticed some of the local children playing in a corner of the green. It looked as if they were playing a version of gobstones from a distance. As they got a little closer a large dog paced up in down in front of the small group of friends and much to their shrieking delight picked up on of the stones and went running off with it, to leap into the air, turn around and run back as if he was joining in the game. Within a few moments there seemed to be dogs of all sorts of descriptions coming from all directions.
“Animagi,” explained Tonio. “The ministry has supplied some of these houses to registered canine animagi. They let themselves be known only as dogs in the town and they stay around when the Muggles are here.”
“I am sorry,” he continued softly, moving closer to Minerva. “There are people around so it would be odd if we did not-“
Before he had finished Minerva had reached for his hand and cast him a shy smile. “I will do my part too Tonio. Tell me more about this area as we walk.”
There was something quite comforting about walking close to another person. Tonio wasn’t a stranger, or at least he shouldn’t have been. If he was it was because she had made it so. Lost in the history of the parchment makers of the town of Amalfi she hardly noticed the time, or how much ground had passed until they stopped by a clump of trees close to the highest ground, and looked outwards to the sea far far below them.
In the distance Tonio pointed out the town of Amalfi where many magical families were still employed in the parchment fabbrica he’d talked about. Long ago the town had been home to huge numbers of Muggles and magical folk alike, but now the population had dwindled to a small fraction.
“It’s a place for lovers,” Tonio explained when Minerva suggested they might visit there. At the sound of footsteps approaching from the land above he squeezed her hand and stepped back into the shadows formed by the trees and leant an arm sideways against the bark above her head as she rested back. “It’s okay, I won’t-“
“Ssssh,” Minerva whispered, their faces and bodies so close it would appear to anyone passing by as if they were indeed kissing.
The Italian being spoken and getting closer to them was from one party worse than hers, and in a tone that sounded vaguely familiar.
“Do you know him?” Tonio whispered, his lips nearly brushing hers as he spoke.
“No. Do you think he’s English?” From behind them were appearing two shadowy forms. The sun bleached any detail of features from their faces or even their clothes which were obviously robes from the outline.
Abruptly Tonio from moved Minerva and ran out into the day light as the pair Disapparated. “Damn, there is nothing.”
Higher on the mountainside, behind the trees and within a natural circle of stone, the grass and plants had been freshly disturbed. A circle of charred earth, still hot to the touch, was obvious.
“Tonio,” beckoned Minerva as she dipped her hand into the embers of a fire. “This hasn’t even been harmed by the heat.”
Author: apostrophe_ess
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JKR, I merely gain from playing these games in her playground.
Pairing/Character: Minerva McGonagall (aged 21), Dora Concertare (the Capo di Magio Sinistro, of the Italian Ministry of Magic), and Tonio Veula (tall, dark, handsome and Minerva's working partner in Italy) as well as a number of other minor charecters
Word Count: 3,354
Rating: G
Summary: In Italy, on secondment from the British Ministry of Magic, life is a little different than Minerva is used to. The time has come for her to meet her working partner. All doesn't go as well as it might have done.
Author's Notes: A second story for millieweasley's history challenge **here**. If you fancy writing something historical involving our HP friends then there's still until the 18th March - plenty of time! Splendid icon for Love, Lust, Luck and Loss from the wonderful nimerha - Thank you!
Part One: here
Part Two: here
Part Three: here
Part Four: here
Part Five: here
Part Six: here
Link to part eight
Part Seven: Chapter Six, Part I - Going Down South
3rd November 1946
The meeting with Dora Concertare had surprised Minerva in several ways and had gone part way to explaining Kiely’s two week stay back in the summer when she’d first arrived in Italy.
Initially Minerva had felt quite indignant at what she perceived as Signora Concertare’s opinion that she was either vulnerable or else unable to work alone. The statuesque and imposing woman that had sat in front of her, with only a wooden desk between them, had left Minerva attempting to splutter her denial at whichever it had been. The woman had continued to speak on in her brisk Italian, hardly seeming to draw a breath at all, as she gave some background on Tonio Veulo, who was to become Minerva’s working partner. By the time Dora Concertare had finished filling Minerva in on her reason for pairing them, without ever giving her a chance to speak either to ask questions or register her objections. In the British Ministry it was, to Minerva’s knowledge at least, the case that only trainee Aurors were teamed with fully qualified and experienced colleagues while they underwent their training. Rationally Minerva could understand the basis for the decision to pair her with someone. It was clear to anyone speaking to her that she had achieved a far greater understanding of the language than she had ability to use it orally. She did have what she termed her ‘Kiely Guide’, which was excellent for translating the written word, but not helpful at all with dealing with spoken Italian. And as yet, and probably for some time, her understanding of the geography of the country was extremely limited.
All of those things made absolute sense, rationally. Perhaps due to her tiredness on that morning or to the unsettled nature of her emotions at that time, Minerva hadn’t really felt very rational. In face she’d felt anything but rational. It was probably down to those reasons that she and Tonio thing had got off to a pretty poor start in their working relationship. Tonio seemed to have the impression that Minerva didn’t like him at all, an understanding she had made no attempt to put right since, and Minerva had the impression Tonio felt he was landed with an idiot foreigner to take care of. If he wanted to think that then Minerva was sure she wasn’t going to waste any energy putting him right, he could believe what ever he wanted. It made no difference to her. No difference at all.
Dora Concertare had called Tonio Veulo into the large, ornate office which she dominated to introduce them, and then to pass some information that they were to work on for the next months together. Hardly looking up, Minerva had shaken the man’s hand and then sat forward to listen to her task. It was the whole reason she was here, not to be friendly with an Italian wizard who they could have asked to do the job alone if she wasn’t witch enough for it in their opinion.
As the minutes wore on Minerva became absorbed with the new information. The reason a witch from the British Department of Magical Cooperation was working with the Italian Capo di Magio Sinistro was becoming clearer in her mind, if not the reason that they’d chosen her in particular.
Her last visit to the Ministry of Magic had been a rush of travel arrangements and confirmations from various departments connected with the trip. It had occurred to her just how complicated the journey was going to be. Frustrated and anxious she met Alastor in the corridor where there had been a moment or two of embarrassed silence when Minerva would have liked to have given him a hug. Instead she did the only thing she could think of and blurted out a question. Why am I being handed over the border like a common felon by an Auror? I’m not dark wizard.
In true Alastor manner he had merely nodded calmly with his reply. Of course you are. There are restrictions in place. We can’t be too careful. Remember that.
That the freedom to travel from country to country hadn’t been returned to their world even after peace had was a subject often discussed over lunch in the Ministry canteen. It had been a very public defeat for Grindlewald. Dumbledore had triumphed; they were no longer in danger.
Of course like most internationally agreed policies discussed by parties with no involvement in their creation, little understanding and only a modicum of interest, the debates were naïve, biased and quite bluntly in Minerva’s opinion, uneducated. Far from the mark it was in the interest of those in the know to remain politically deaf to such discussions. If they’d troubled to correct the information then they were doing themselves a disservice. This was one of those times that the powers that be believed transparency wasn’t the way to go.
The British Ministry of Magic and its magical public might be rid of the pernicious influence that had been Grindlewald, but that didn’t mean the world was. The Muggle saying “The King is dead, long live the King” that Minerva had heard used a few times in her childhood fitted just as well in this world and for this circumstance.
Grindlewald was defeated and gone, his followers were all not. Home may now be considered safe, but the world at large wasn’t necessarily so. The Ministry of Magic in Italy had good reason to think that it now was playing host to the initial rumblings of potential trouble, and in short, not only was it seeming to blame Britain for being so, but it expected Britain to help resolve its position.
Early November, even in northern Italy, was warmer than at home in Scotland. Instead of being blown around, using constant warming charms when out of doors and always being prepared for the extreme, it was quite pleasant to wander the streets of Emilio-Romagna and Merchet where Minerva and Tonio had spent their recent weeks working.
Today they were to move further south altogether, to a small hillside village near to a purely magical community on the edge of a larger Muggle town. For a few days each year Muggles were allowed to visit Pozzuoli Lago D’Averno to hold what they termed a music festival. For a week each October, Muggles flocked to the village with their tents and their campfires. Tonio told Minerva than an old girlfriend of his had managed to see inside of one at one of the festivals. Laughingly he described how the inside of Muggles tents were nothing like the luxury they knew in their own. Muggles even slept on the floor in little more than bags made from blankets. Minerva turned from him disdainfully at the comments. Wizards, or witches, who treated Muggles as lesser beings and hardly worth the space they used up on the planet annoyed her intensely.
At this year’s festival held a few weeks earlier someone had gone missing. In itself that wasn’t very surprising to the organisers, most years someone or another would be reported missing. What was different this year was who it was who had disappeared. In previous times a few days, or sometimes perhaps a week or a fortnight later, the missing person who was usually a young hopeful musician or a girl or a boy who’d met up with someone from another part of Italy and fallen in love, would appear again at their home. They’d usually be disappointed that a musical life wasn’t going to be for them, or upset that the person they’d fallen so quickly and desperately in love with had suddenly changed once in their home surroundings. These disappearances often made the local Muggle newspapers, but rarely any more than that, perhaps a mention on the wireless at most.
This time however the missing person wasn’t a budding musician, or a girl or boy who was likely to have fallen desperately in love. Ercole Marsalis wasn’t even young at all. He’d been a popular attendant at the festival for each of the times it had taken place over the last ten years. Even though Ercole Marsalis lived as a Muggle they worked for the magical world. An unfortunate lack of magical ability didn’t have to mean a sad or sorry life on the outskirts of both types of community, but not properly belonging to either. Despite not being able to do spells or enjoy the other benefits of wandwork or magic generally, Ercole Marsalis had risen to high ranks in the secret section of the Cap Sinistra, working directly for Dora Concertare.
During the music festival Ercole Marsalis became a creature of habit and each day reported for a tot before bedtime at a local hostelry Hostaria il Briganita). By appearing to order a tot of fine grappa he’d show that everything was okay, a state reported back to Dora Concertare by another squibb, the barmaid Rosa Marco If however he ordered and drank a glass of wine it was relayed that the department should be in a state of alert. Then within an hour Ercole Marsalis would return to the bar and send another message by ordering another drink. If that drink was a simple fruit juice then it meant a team of investigadoras should be sent, whereas a coffee meant something close to a national emergency and all Hades was let lose.
For ten years Ercole Marsalis had never ordered a coffee, it had been a very long time since he’d drunk fruit juice. But for the last week he’d drunk nothing at all. Initial investigations had shown up nothing unusual whatsoever. His small house in a Muggle town far away in Italy was neat and tidy still; it looked just as if he’d popped out to buy a bag of peaches. His friends explained, ever so nicely, that he always went away at that time every year, though they weren’t sure where, and not to worry as he’d be back in a day or two.
All the attempts to trace him without blowing his cover had been used. Now it was up to Minerva and Tonio to do their best to uncover what happened and hopefully return him safely to his small house amongst his friends.
They were, later today, to arrive at Caserta with luggage enough for a week’s stay. Their cover was that of a member of another squibb working for the Ministry, Nuncia Petro’s family as Tonio, and the girl he was wishing to become engaged to, Minerva. As well as a week’s holiday at Caserta, Tonio wished to introduce his future bride to distant members of his family.
Minerva had not been impressed at the idea. As Dora had explained the carefully thought out plan and the processes for repeating their findings back to her, Minerva first attempted to protest, and then when carefully ignored had fumed inwardly.
The last six weeks had been awkward for her. By day she’d had to form a bond with Tonio, lately learning an agreed family history and being seen in various places with him. By night she’d pushed all difficult and stuffy memory of him away and let pleasant and warming thoughts of Kiely take over.
Now, from today, she was going to have to put on an act. To do her job properly she was going to have to act out the role of Tonio’s girlfriend and all that might include, which she hoped was very little.
“Minerva,” Tonio rarely knocked. If he arrived at the time they’d arranged to meet and not a moment early then he assumed she would be ready.
“Good morning.” Minerva turned and picked up her bag, packed with clothes and reading material for the week - her latest book leading to becoming an animagus was packed, charmed to appear as an Italian romance. Romances weren’t, she imagined, her cup of tea but such a tome did seem suitable for a girl of her assumed situation.
“I will take your bag.”
“No, you will not. I am quite able to carry a bag.”
“We are to be close. You are my intended for all purposes.” He held out his hand and jabbed it towards the bag.
“No Tonio. I will carry it.” Minerva hated how clipped her speech became when she was speaking Italian. If she was speaking in English he’d have understood exactly how demeaning he was being, instead she felt she just sounded difficult.
“Please give me your bag. As my future bride I do not expect you to carry it. I would be considered as nothing if I did not take care of you.”
Minerva took a sharp breath and turned towards him. “I am not your future bride. I will carry it, we are not there yet.”
“Minerva, do not make a fuss. You will draw attention to us.” Instead of raising his voice Tonio was speaking softly to her, almost as if he were calming a naughty child.
“Draw attention?” Minerva made a sound under her breath that closely resembled a little like pfffft. “We are in my apartment. You are here as my guest, despite your rudeness. No-one will hear us.” Resolutely and quite finally Minerva picked up her bag, opened the door to the courtyard with her wand and signalled towards it. “After you. I wish to lock the door. Properly, so no-one will enter uninvited.”
There was a definite atmosphere between them now. It had replaced the void which had existed since their first meeting. Despite working together for the last weeks Minerva couldn’t have said what colour eyes Tonio had. They were probably dark; that would have been her best guess. Most Italians with dark hair, and dark skin like he seemed to have dark eyes so there was every chance they would be.
After a coffee in her least favourite café on the Piazza and with distinct unease and awkwardness Minerva reluctantly passed her bag to Tonio before Apparating to Caserta.
The guest house where they were to stay seemed pleasant enough. The girl who greeted them took an obvious interest in Tonio, tossing her hair over her shoulders, smiling widely, and giggling softly towards him. Tonio responded by calling Minerva from the shadows in a corner where she’d stood and introduced her as his intended, his arm firmly around her waist. The girl flounced off and called in a leering old man who winked in exaggerated fashion to Tonio, eyed Minerva slowly up and down, and as he just about drooled let his gaze linger on her chest for far too long for her liking. That he’d given them two linked rooms, one with a very comfortable double bed, was met with a knowing look to her from Tonio and a mutual wink between the two men. Could the day get any worse?
Winter sun and gorgeous surroundings were a wonderful treat. It had been a good idea of Tonio’s to go out for a walk and explore the site of the music festival, which was held on a green right in the middle of a large stone built area. To witches and wizards the village, for she couldn’t think what else to call it, was stunning. Many tiny tiny houses all joined to each other made three large sides of a large square with a large green in front of them which sloped steeply away where the buildings finished. A secret from the front, if that’s what faced the green, at the back of the houses was another layer of homes, cut into the mountain and underneath the other houses.
The buildings were all charmed to look like little more than rubble to any Muggles who might stray there during the year, as well as the ones that attended the music festival. The walls seemed decrepit and fallen down and far too dangerous to climb even by the wildest children; the local Muggles kept their children away as there were generations of stories of how perilous the wreck was.
Minerva couldn’t imagine what living there that October week must be like for the residents. Not only did they have hundreds of Muggles living literally on their doorsteps, but they were virtual prisoners in their own homes, unable to leave when they wished, or to make very much noise even. It was no wonder that those who could left the area and took their own holidays at that time.
Coupled with her good humour at the afternoon’s walk, Minerva found Tonio interesting today. Usually when he told her of customs or the history of wherever they were visiting she took the information in with little acknowledgement other than a few questions. Today the whole situation fascinated her.
Shortly after arriving in view of the houses they’d noticed some of the local children playing in a corner of the green. It looked as if they were playing a version of gobstones from a distance. As they got a little closer a large dog paced up in down in front of the small group of friends and much to their shrieking delight picked up on of the stones and went running off with it, to leap into the air, turn around and run back as if he was joining in the game. Within a few moments there seemed to be dogs of all sorts of descriptions coming from all directions.
“Animagi,” explained Tonio. “The ministry has supplied some of these houses to registered canine animagi. They let themselves be known only as dogs in the town and they stay around when the Muggles are here.”
“I am sorry,” he continued softly, moving closer to Minerva. “There are people around so it would be odd if we did not-“
Before he had finished Minerva had reached for his hand and cast him a shy smile. “I will do my part too Tonio. Tell me more about this area as we walk.”
There was something quite comforting about walking close to another person. Tonio wasn’t a stranger, or at least he shouldn’t have been. If he was it was because she had made it so. Lost in the history of the parchment makers of the town of Amalfi she hardly noticed the time, or how much ground had passed until they stopped by a clump of trees close to the highest ground, and looked outwards to the sea far far below them.
In the distance Tonio pointed out the town of Amalfi where many magical families were still employed in the parchment fabbrica he’d talked about. Long ago the town had been home to huge numbers of Muggles and magical folk alike, but now the population had dwindled to a small fraction.
“It’s a place for lovers,” Tonio explained when Minerva suggested they might visit there. At the sound of footsteps approaching from the land above he squeezed her hand and stepped back into the shadows formed by the trees and leant an arm sideways against the bark above her head as she rested back. “It’s okay, I won’t-“
“Ssssh,” Minerva whispered, their faces and bodies so close it would appear to anyone passing by as if they were indeed kissing.
The Italian being spoken and getting closer to them was from one party worse than hers, and in a tone that sounded vaguely familiar.
“Do you know him?” Tonio whispered, his lips nearly brushing hers as he spoke.
“No. Do you think he’s English?” From behind them were appearing two shadowy forms. The sun bleached any detail of features from their faces or even their clothes which were obviously robes from the outline.
Abruptly Tonio from moved Minerva and ran out into the day light as the pair Disapparated. “Damn, there is nothing.”
Higher on the mountainside, behind the trees and within a natural circle of stone, the grass and plants had been freshly disturbed. A circle of charred earth, still hot to the touch, was obvious.
“Tonio,” beckoned Minerva as she dipped her hand into the embers of a fire. “This hasn’t even been harmed by the heat.”