(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), Tonio Vuela, Dora Concertare, and a variety of other Italian wizards
Word Count: 2,532
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When an owl wakes Minerva at 5am she is instantly ready to face whatever emergency has come to pass. It never occurred to her that she would hear the name Ercole Marsalis again.
Author's Notes: A second story for millieweasley's history challenge **here**.
Part: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen. fifteen.
Link to part seventeen
Part Sixteen: Chapter Ten, Part III - Cold light of day
28th November 1946
It was quarter to five when the owl came. Minerva had risen from her bed instantly and had been wide awake almost as quickly. She had dressed and Disapparated, looking every bit as she would in the middle of the day, within fifteen minutes. Within twenty she was once again sitting in the ante room to Dora Concertare’s office. The first one to arrive, or so the fachino had told her, even before Signora Concertare herself.
Minerva wondered what had happened that so desperately needed their attention at this time of day. She felt sure that if it had been a planned meeting there would have been more notice than an owl tapping on her bedroom window repeatedly in the midst of the night.
Second to arrive was the young man who had relieved her only days before, Nuncio Pietro. With a nod he sunk into another seat where he proceeded to yawn continuously. His face was shadowed by the dark growth of beard that he’d not even bothered to use a charm on before coming out.
Minerva considered starting a conversation, but realised when he yawned again and rubbed his eyes that it was probably pointless. Certainly not worth the effort on his part.
When the door to the outer office opened a third time it was Dora. She paid no attention to either of the occupants of her outer office, but stepped through with her long and purposeful strides, closing the door to her office firmly behind her. Both Minerva and Nuncio had stood hastily as Dora walked through, but both sat back down again now, ignored.
“So what do you reckon?” Nuncio asked in almost a whisper.
Minerva shrugged. “I have no idea. You?”
“Nope. Nothing.”
Minerva acknowledged his words with a nod, and leant back against the chair again.
“You know that flat the other day,” Nuncio continued.
“Yes?” Minerva perked up, interested. “Did something happen?”
“Nope. It was dead boring. How do you stick it?”
It was hard not to sigh. “Did it keep raining?”
“Nah, it stopped just after you went. The sun came out.”
“Oh.” Wasn’t that just typical? For the days on end Minerva had stood there it had rained, the moment she went it stopped.
“Hello, what’s going on then?” asked one of the witches, in reasonably perky voice , that Minerva had taken coffee with on previous mornings. “I can’t believe we’re here at this time.”
Nuncio reported that they didn’t know, sat himself up a bit straighter in his seat and started beaming at the witch. Minerva smiled inwardly. She seemed to be constantly surrounded by someone or another preening. Well, she told herself, constantly was an exaggeration but first of all Blanca whatever her name was preening over Tonio, and now Nuncio Pietro doing his bit. She’d bet a galleon he wished he’d stopped to use a shaving charm now. It was time to be going home, back to Great Britain, where she would preen and work at attracting her man again. At the thought of that Minerva let out a happy sigh.
The door opened three more times, and each time had let in another relatively sleepy witch or wizard. The seats were almost filled up, there was only one empty one. They must, the gathered staff, be about ready to find out the reason for being in the office in what amounted to the middle of the night.
There was still one person missing however. Minerva had been acutely aware that she was there and Tonio was not. She’d wondered if he’d been invited, or if he hadn’t been at home when the invitation arrived. His mousy date would be extremely pleased with herself if that was the case, Minerva was sure.
“Would you all like to come in?” Dora invited, opening the door into her office and watching as in various stages of wakefulness her staff made their way towards the green velvet upholstered chairs around her desk. Their backs, Minerva noted, were no more comfortable than ever they had been. One or two people would be woken more cruelly than they’d hoped or considered.
Just as the door was about to finally click closed behind the last person it was pushed fully open again, banging back on its hinges, as Tonio walked through and moved quickly to the last chair, along the row from Minerva.
Pretending not to pay any attention to him, not even to have noticed his arrival, she saw quite clearly that he was still wearing the same clothes he’d worn in the restaurant last night. The reason for his tardiness in arrival had been to do with not sleeping, if he slept at all, in his own bed.
“Now you’re all here,” Dora said quite pointedly, looking at Tonio and raising a single eyebrow at him. “I have to tell you that Ercole Marsalis has been located.”
There was a silent gasp through the room. It was weeks since the name Ercole Marsalis had been mentioned amongst them, it was largely assumed he would never be heard of again, or that one day in years to come traces of his body would be uncovered somewhere.
“At precisely three thirty this morning, Ercole Marsalis walked into his own flat.”
The various witches and wizards around the desk looked from one to the other, a feeling of disbelief in the air.
“After his neighbour had informed the Ministry of his arrival home, he was collected and taken to a safe house in another Ministry location. Signor Marsalis seems, on first examination, to be in fair health although I have to report to you that he has no memory whatsoever of anything that has happened since the last time he left Hostaria il Briganita after his last visit there.”
Dora looked around the room, letting her gaze settle onto each one of them in turn as she allowed some time for the information to sink in. Just as she expected it was only a few seconds before the first inquisitive looks crossed people’s features.
“You are wondering now,” she began, “why I called you into the office at five o’clock in the morning to hear this news when in practice not knowing it till seven o’clock, eight o’clock or even nine o’clock would have made little difference. I am sure one or two of you are beginning to resent being dragged from your beds,” Dora allowed her gaze to settle upon Tonio knowingly, “for no apparent good reason.” Once again silence was allowed to settle not only in the room, but in the attendant witches’ and wizards’ minds before she continued.
“At four fifteen this morning I was alerted to a plan to take a child. That is the reason you are here now. Ercole Marsalis will rest quite fine where he is unaware of whether or not you know his whereabouts, the village of Pozzuoli Lago D'Averno will not.”
The gasp was audible this time. Now Minerva allowed her gaze to wander along the row and settle on Tonio. It was just outside of that particular village they’d found the fire, and the piece of porcelain, the one they’d not been able to identify. A piece of porcelain that was currently in a drawer in Tonio’s office, with some notes and copies of reports they’d submitted to Dora at the time. A piece of porcelain that still had questions hanging over it that most definitely needed answers. A piece of porcelain that Minerva had a mind to inspect again before too long.
Tonio looked across after a few moments and adjusted his features into a picture of puzzlement. What was Minerva saying to him? Her expression was most perplexing. She looked amused, didn’t she? But why? She wasn’t the sort to find something as shocking and disturbing as they’d just been told even the slightest bit funny. He felt her knew her at least that well. Silently he mouthed What?
She seemed to be indicating to his clothes. They were a little unusual for work wear, granted, but then he’d not dressed for work. He’d actually risen from a bed he’d never intended to visit to dress this morning. If the owl hadn’t have arrived when it did then heaven knows how the rest of the morning might have gone. Last night was bad enough.
Tonio shuddered, and deliberately kept his glance from drifting back to Minerva. He’d only intended to provide enough entertainment to Blanco Ruggerio to encourage her to speak freely. He’d thought he could fumble a little under her clothes, work on those places which in his experience of women never failed to please, encourage her to be so desperate for more that she was willing to do anything to get it. He’d carefully stopped her from affording his body the same benefits, each time she’d made to grope at his pleasurable areas he’d waylaid her by increasing the enjoyment he was delivering to her. He’d not counted on Blanco having a will like iron, that however much sensation he offered her, she could overcome it to remain in control. He’d not intended to let her see him unclothed, as he’d had no intention of being unclothed, and he’d certainly not intended to … Well, he sighed, he’d not intended to have sex with her. It had never been his intention that he’d offer her any satisfaction by that particular means what so ever. But he had. It had to have been the worst coupling of his life. The only time he’d drawn any pleasure from the event had been when he’d closed his eyes and pictured the dark haired girl with the infectious laugh, the intuitive grasp on just about everything, and the girl he was sure he’d now fallen in love with. The very girl he’d been there to gain information about.
That she, Blanca, had fallen asleep shortly after he’d rolled from her had been a relief. He’d considered stepping from her bed and leaving instantly. His trousers, however, were under her legs - probably deliberately on her part, Tonio decided - and as such she’d have been disturbed. He doubted he could have gone through with it all again, even if his body had behaved so as to make it possible.
“How’s your back?” Minerva whispered when they all moved from the room to await their particular more individual instructions.
“My back?” Tonio asked, his voice full of confusion.
“No scratches?”
“What?”
“Your friend. She’s not a scratcher?”
“No.” The word was designed to put an end to the conversation. It had a sense of finality about it.
“I didn’t see her as your sort.” Minerva was not going to allow him to get away with this. There would be a good few minutes before they were called to work, it would be good to spend them profitably.
“Oh. And who exactly did you see as my sort?”
“Someone young, pretty, good figure.”
“You?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Did you see yourself as my sort?”
“No.”
“Well then I suggest we drop it.”
“Signorina McGonagall,” the fachino beckoned. “And Signor Vuela. Signora Concertare would like to speak with you.”
The first to be called back into Dora’s office, the atmosphere between them was still cool in the extreme.
That further news had come that a child had definitely now been taken was terrible. That the Italian equivalents of the Aurors were already swarming the area was something. It was not enough for Dora, she needed them all out there, gathering information, delivering it for use to step up the pace of the investigation. “The family have been told it is only a matter of time. What it is that is a matter of time I do not like to think about. I suggest you two forget whatever differences it is you are harbouring tonight and retrace your steps from before. Any tiny pieces of evidence, even the minutest scrap of intelligence then report it. The child must be found, before it is too late.”
The light was beginning to break through the black velvet of the night’s sky when Minerva and Tonio Apparated onto the green at Pozzuoli Lago D'Averno. Benaro Beppete, the caposquadra welcomed them and introduced them to the parents of Anna Ettore, the child who had been taken from her bed while they slept in the next room in the very same house.
Signora Ettore was wringing her hands, all life gone from her voice, as she reported that she couldn’t say what happened. She’d heard a noise, heard Anna squeal, and had slipped straight back to sleep. Anna, she told them, often had dreams where she spoke aloud, or made other noises. They’d given up long ago investigating. She was eight years old; she didn’t need to be babied, did she?
“Please get her back,” Signor Ettore pleaded. “She is our only child, our only chance of having one. We never thought -.” But he had to stop, his voice had broken with the emotion.
They were older parents and it struck Minerva how it was the second time in as many days she had thought such a thing. Nikita Dolohov was going to be an older parent, his excitement at the forthcoming birth of his child was clear, had these two been the same eight years ago?
“Can you tell us anything?” Tonio asked, sure that they’d have already given as much information as it was possible to give, but hoping that the tiniest scrap of something new would direct them somewhere, or to something. Anything.
All around them was the light from wand tips as the ground was searched. The animagi of the area were transformed and patrolling the edge of the green, the front and the back of the houses. Witches and wizards were moving the remaining children from their beds into one or two houses, where they could be taken care of by the minimum number of adults. As soon as it was properly light everyone else would join the search, but for now it was down to the Ministry employees.
“Tonio,” Minerva whispered, touching his arm and indicating to move away as Signora and Signor Ettore were brought cups of steaming coffee and encouraged to sit for a minute.
“What?” he asked, his arm warmed momentarily by her touch.
“The fire, the porcelain.”
“Yes?”
“Shall we look again?”
“Do you think-“
Minerva cut him off. “Yes, I do. I think very much. No stone should be left unturned.” Without even waiting to see if he was going to join her, she turned and strode out in the direction of the clump of trees behind which on higher ground she’d found the fire the first time they’d come here.
It took only minutes before they arrived. “Wait,” Tonio suggested as they approached the trees. “Wait for a moment.”
“Why?” Minerva asked brusquely.
“Just wait.”
Standing silently they heard a rustling from above, shuffling sounds, perhaps the sound of flames too. And from within the symphony of those soft noises came a clear but small shriek that sounded just as if it was the product of the voice of a little girl.
Author: apostrophe_ess
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JKR, I merely gain from playing these games in her playground.
Pairing/Character: Minerva McGonagall (aged 21), Tonio Vuela, Dora Concertare, and a variety of other Italian wizards
Word Count: 2,532
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When an owl wakes Minerva at 5am she is instantly ready to face whatever emergency has come to pass. It never occurred to her that she would hear the name Ercole Marsalis again.
Author's Notes: A second story for millieweasley's history challenge **here**.
Part: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen. fifteen.
Link to part seventeen
Part Sixteen: Chapter Ten, Part III - Cold light of day
28th November 1946
It was quarter to five when the owl came. Minerva had risen from her bed instantly and had been wide awake almost as quickly. She had dressed and Disapparated, looking every bit as she would in the middle of the day, within fifteen minutes. Within twenty she was once again sitting in the ante room to Dora Concertare’s office. The first one to arrive, or so the fachino had told her, even before Signora Concertare herself.
Minerva wondered what had happened that so desperately needed their attention at this time of day. She felt sure that if it had been a planned meeting there would have been more notice than an owl tapping on her bedroom window repeatedly in the midst of the night.
Second to arrive was the young man who had relieved her only days before, Nuncio Pietro. With a nod he sunk into another seat where he proceeded to yawn continuously. His face was shadowed by the dark growth of beard that he’d not even bothered to use a charm on before coming out.
Minerva considered starting a conversation, but realised when he yawned again and rubbed his eyes that it was probably pointless. Certainly not worth the effort on his part.
When the door to the outer office opened a third time it was Dora. She paid no attention to either of the occupants of her outer office, but stepped through with her long and purposeful strides, closing the door to her office firmly behind her. Both Minerva and Nuncio had stood hastily as Dora walked through, but both sat back down again now, ignored.
“So what do you reckon?” Nuncio asked in almost a whisper.
Minerva shrugged. “I have no idea. You?”
“Nope. Nothing.”
Minerva acknowledged his words with a nod, and leant back against the chair again.
“You know that flat the other day,” Nuncio continued.
“Yes?” Minerva perked up, interested. “Did something happen?”
“Nope. It was dead boring. How do you stick it?”
It was hard not to sigh. “Did it keep raining?”
“Nah, it stopped just after you went. The sun came out.”
“Oh.” Wasn’t that just typical? For the days on end Minerva had stood there it had rained, the moment she went it stopped.
“Hello, what’s going on then?” asked one of the witches, in reasonably perky voice , that Minerva had taken coffee with on previous mornings. “I can’t believe we’re here at this time.”
Nuncio reported that they didn’t know, sat himself up a bit straighter in his seat and started beaming at the witch. Minerva smiled inwardly. She seemed to be constantly surrounded by someone or another preening. Well, she told herself, constantly was an exaggeration but first of all Blanca whatever her name was preening over Tonio, and now Nuncio Pietro doing his bit. She’d bet a galleon he wished he’d stopped to use a shaving charm now. It was time to be going home, back to Great Britain, where she would preen and work at attracting her man again. At the thought of that Minerva let out a happy sigh.
The door opened three more times, and each time had let in another relatively sleepy witch or wizard. The seats were almost filled up, there was only one empty one. They must, the gathered staff, be about ready to find out the reason for being in the office in what amounted to the middle of the night.
There was still one person missing however. Minerva had been acutely aware that she was there and Tonio was not. She’d wondered if he’d been invited, or if he hadn’t been at home when the invitation arrived. His mousy date would be extremely pleased with herself if that was the case, Minerva was sure.
“Would you all like to come in?” Dora invited, opening the door into her office and watching as in various stages of wakefulness her staff made their way towards the green velvet upholstered chairs around her desk. Their backs, Minerva noted, were no more comfortable than ever they had been. One or two people would be woken more cruelly than they’d hoped or considered.
Just as the door was about to finally click closed behind the last person it was pushed fully open again, banging back on its hinges, as Tonio walked through and moved quickly to the last chair, along the row from Minerva.
Pretending not to pay any attention to him, not even to have noticed his arrival, she saw quite clearly that he was still wearing the same clothes he’d worn in the restaurant last night. The reason for his tardiness in arrival had been to do with not sleeping, if he slept at all, in his own bed.
“Now you’re all here,” Dora said quite pointedly, looking at Tonio and raising a single eyebrow at him. “I have to tell you that Ercole Marsalis has been located.”
There was a silent gasp through the room. It was weeks since the name Ercole Marsalis had been mentioned amongst them, it was largely assumed he would never be heard of again, or that one day in years to come traces of his body would be uncovered somewhere.
“At precisely three thirty this morning, Ercole Marsalis walked into his own flat.”
The various witches and wizards around the desk looked from one to the other, a feeling of disbelief in the air.
“After his neighbour had informed the Ministry of his arrival home, he was collected and taken to a safe house in another Ministry location. Signor Marsalis seems, on first examination, to be in fair health although I have to report to you that he has no memory whatsoever of anything that has happened since the last time he left Hostaria il Briganita after his last visit there.”
Dora looked around the room, letting her gaze settle onto each one of them in turn as she allowed some time for the information to sink in. Just as she expected it was only a few seconds before the first inquisitive looks crossed people’s features.
“You are wondering now,” she began, “why I called you into the office at five o’clock in the morning to hear this news when in practice not knowing it till seven o’clock, eight o’clock or even nine o’clock would have made little difference. I am sure one or two of you are beginning to resent being dragged from your beds,” Dora allowed her gaze to settle upon Tonio knowingly, “for no apparent good reason.” Once again silence was allowed to settle not only in the room, but in the attendant witches’ and wizards’ minds before she continued.
“At four fifteen this morning I was alerted to a plan to take a child. That is the reason you are here now. Ercole Marsalis will rest quite fine where he is unaware of whether or not you know his whereabouts, the village of Pozzuoli Lago D'Averno will not.”
The gasp was audible this time. Now Minerva allowed her gaze to wander along the row and settle on Tonio. It was just outside of that particular village they’d found the fire, and the piece of porcelain, the one they’d not been able to identify. A piece of porcelain that was currently in a drawer in Tonio’s office, with some notes and copies of reports they’d submitted to Dora at the time. A piece of porcelain that still had questions hanging over it that most definitely needed answers. A piece of porcelain that Minerva had a mind to inspect again before too long.
Tonio looked across after a few moments and adjusted his features into a picture of puzzlement. What was Minerva saying to him? Her expression was most perplexing. She looked amused, didn’t she? But why? She wasn’t the sort to find something as shocking and disturbing as they’d just been told even the slightest bit funny. He felt her knew her at least that well. Silently he mouthed What?
She seemed to be indicating to his clothes. They were a little unusual for work wear, granted, but then he’d not dressed for work. He’d actually risen from a bed he’d never intended to visit to dress this morning. If the owl hadn’t have arrived when it did then heaven knows how the rest of the morning might have gone. Last night was bad enough.
Tonio shuddered, and deliberately kept his glance from drifting back to Minerva. He’d only intended to provide enough entertainment to Blanco Ruggerio to encourage her to speak freely. He’d thought he could fumble a little under her clothes, work on those places which in his experience of women never failed to please, encourage her to be so desperate for more that she was willing to do anything to get it. He’d carefully stopped her from affording his body the same benefits, each time she’d made to grope at his pleasurable areas he’d waylaid her by increasing the enjoyment he was delivering to her. He’d not counted on Blanco having a will like iron, that however much sensation he offered her, she could overcome it to remain in control. He’d not intended to let her see him unclothed, as he’d had no intention of being unclothed, and he’d certainly not intended to … Well, he sighed, he’d not intended to have sex with her. It had never been his intention that he’d offer her any satisfaction by that particular means what so ever. But he had. It had to have been the worst coupling of his life. The only time he’d drawn any pleasure from the event had been when he’d closed his eyes and pictured the dark haired girl with the infectious laugh, the intuitive grasp on just about everything, and the girl he was sure he’d now fallen in love with. The very girl he’d been there to gain information about.
That she, Blanca, had fallen asleep shortly after he’d rolled from her had been a relief. He’d considered stepping from her bed and leaving instantly. His trousers, however, were under her legs - probably deliberately on her part, Tonio decided - and as such she’d have been disturbed. He doubted he could have gone through with it all again, even if his body had behaved so as to make it possible.
“How’s your back?” Minerva whispered when they all moved from the room to await their particular more individual instructions.
“My back?” Tonio asked, his voice full of confusion.
“No scratches?”
“What?”
“Your friend. She’s not a scratcher?”
“No.” The word was designed to put an end to the conversation. It had a sense of finality about it.
“I didn’t see her as your sort.” Minerva was not going to allow him to get away with this. There would be a good few minutes before they were called to work, it would be good to spend them profitably.
“Oh. And who exactly did you see as my sort?”
“Someone young, pretty, good figure.”
“You?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Did you see yourself as my sort?”
“No.”
“Well then I suggest we drop it.”
“Signorina McGonagall,” the fachino beckoned. “And Signor Vuela. Signora Concertare would like to speak with you.”
The first to be called back into Dora’s office, the atmosphere between them was still cool in the extreme.
That further news had come that a child had definitely now been taken was terrible. That the Italian equivalents of the Aurors were already swarming the area was something. It was not enough for Dora, she needed them all out there, gathering information, delivering it for use to step up the pace of the investigation. “The family have been told it is only a matter of time. What it is that is a matter of time I do not like to think about. I suggest you two forget whatever differences it is you are harbouring tonight and retrace your steps from before. Any tiny pieces of evidence, even the minutest scrap of intelligence then report it. The child must be found, before it is too late.”
The light was beginning to break through the black velvet of the night’s sky when Minerva and Tonio Apparated onto the green at Pozzuoli Lago D'Averno. Benaro Beppete, the caposquadra welcomed them and introduced them to the parents of Anna Ettore, the child who had been taken from her bed while they slept in the next room in the very same house.
Signora Ettore was wringing her hands, all life gone from her voice, as she reported that she couldn’t say what happened. She’d heard a noise, heard Anna squeal, and had slipped straight back to sleep. Anna, she told them, often had dreams where she spoke aloud, or made other noises. They’d given up long ago investigating. She was eight years old; she didn’t need to be babied, did she?
“Please get her back,” Signor Ettore pleaded. “She is our only child, our only chance of having one. We never thought -.” But he had to stop, his voice had broken with the emotion.
They were older parents and it struck Minerva how it was the second time in as many days she had thought such a thing. Nikita Dolohov was going to be an older parent, his excitement at the forthcoming birth of his child was clear, had these two been the same eight years ago?
“Can you tell us anything?” Tonio asked, sure that they’d have already given as much information as it was possible to give, but hoping that the tiniest scrap of something new would direct them somewhere, or to something. Anything.
All around them was the light from wand tips as the ground was searched. The animagi of the area were transformed and patrolling the edge of the green, the front and the back of the houses. Witches and wizards were moving the remaining children from their beds into one or two houses, where they could be taken care of by the minimum number of adults. As soon as it was properly light everyone else would join the search, but for now it was down to the Ministry employees.
“Tonio,” Minerva whispered, touching his arm and indicating to move away as Signora and Signor Ettore were brought cups of steaming coffee and encouraged to sit for a minute.
“What?” he asked, his arm warmed momentarily by her touch.
“The fire, the porcelain.”
“Yes?”
“Shall we look again?”
“Do you think-“
Minerva cut him off. “Yes, I do. I think very much. No stone should be left unturned.” Without even waiting to see if he was going to join her, she turned and strode out in the direction of the clump of trees behind which on higher ground she’d found the fire the first time they’d come here.
It took only minutes before they arrived. “Wait,” Tonio suggested as they approached the trees. “Wait for a moment.”
“Why?” Minerva asked brusquely.
“Just wait.”
Standing silently they heard a rustling from above, shuffling sounds, perhaps the sound of flames too. And from within the symphony of those soft noises came a clear but small shriek that sounded just as if it was the product of the voice of a little girl.