Harry Potter - Highlander Crossover_My Immortal_Part 3
Chapter 3
After a lot of tossing and turning all through the night Fiona finally gave up on sleep at 5am. She got up, donned a long sleeve shirt, jogging trousers and trainers and put her hair in a simple ponytail before she left for her customary morning run. An hour later her muscles were pleasantly hurting and her shirt was soaked through but it felt good nonetheless. Her mind was accorded a blissful rest for the duration of the run but as soon as she climbed the stairs to her flat it returned to working overtime again. In the hall she took off her trainers and padded into the kitchen. Fiona halted in the doorway when she found Minerva looking curiously at her coffee machine.
“Good morning”, the immortal said softly to not startle the other woman.
“Good morning”, Minerva turned her emerald eyes at her hostess and frowned at her appearance. “Are you quite all right?”
“I am fine”, Fiona smiled. “I couldn’t sleep and got up early for my usual run.”
“Oh”, Minerva answered, not quite sure what to make of such peculiar muggle costumes.
“I have to keep fit, you know. Being forced to have sword fights on a regular basis makes you aware that you have to stay in shape.”
“Well, from what I have seen the other day I would say you are very fit.”
“I hope so.” Fiona switched on the coffee machine to make herself and her guest a decent cup of coffee. “You are up awfully early as well, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
Minerva had taken a seat at the kitchen table, observing the tall woman with keen eyes. “I usually get up at this time. I enjoy the silence on the grounds around Hogwarts at that time of day and go for a walk. It is nice when there is nobody else running around. The solitude is soothing before another strenuous day starts.”
“I know what you mean.” Fiona nodded in understanding as she put Minerva’s cup in front of her, followed by a can of milk and sugar. The witch added some milk to her coffee and took a careful sip. It tasted perfect, her eyes found the blue ones of her hostess and they smiled at each other over the rims of their cups. “The coffee is to your liking, then?”
“It’s wonderful, thank you.”
“You are welcome. What would you like for breakfast?” Fiona asked from the fridge.
“Yoghurt, cereals and fruit if you have.”
“Coming along.”
The immortal put everything on the table, with two bowls, knives and spoons for each of them to prepare their favoured breakfast. As she sat on the witch’s left side, Fiona could see her fidgeting with her clothes every now and then. It became painfully clear that Minerva was anything but comfortable with the muggle clothes she was required to wear. Watching her silently for some time, the immortal couldn’t bear it any longer and covered Minerva’s hand with her own. When she felt her flinch at the touch she withdrew her hand as if burned. It hurt, a part of her understood but it hurt nevertheless.
“Sorry”, she whispered as she withdrew her hand. “Look, why don’t you change into your robes? You are not comfortable in these clothes and I want you to feel as much at home as possible.”
“You wouldn’t mind?” Minerva asked astonished at the suggestion.
“Why would I mind? As long as we are here you should wear what you are most comfortable with. These other clothes are for the streets.”
Minerva merely nodded gratefully at her and with a flick of her wrist she changed her muggle attire into her favourite robes. She sighed when she felt her robes cover her body, feeling like herself again.
“See? Much better, isn’t it?” Fiona agreed with a smile.
“Yes”, Minerva’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink. “I simply prefer traditional clothes of my world. It’s what I feel comfortable with.”
“That’s what I thought. You don’t have to explain yourself.” Fiona put her dishes in the dishwasher. “Press this button if you want another cup. I’ll go have a shower and then we are going to find out more about our common threat. Is this all right with you?” She asked on her way out.
“Absolutely.”
***
While Minerva was having her second cup of coffee and Fiona was in the shower Ruth joined the witch in the kitchen for breakfast.
“Good morning”, Ruth said grouchily as she made her way to the counter for her first dose of caffeine.
“Good morning”, Minerva greeted rather cheerfully, now that she felt good in her own skin.
“Oh, please don’t tell me you are also a morning person like tall, dark and immortal.”
“Well...”
“That woman sometimes annoys the hell out of me.” Ruth muttered as she took a seat opposite from Minerva. “May I ask why you are dressed like somebody out of a fairy-tale? If I didn’t know better I would say it is Halloween already and you dressed like the witch from some movie theme.”
Minerva rolled her eyes when she realised that they didn’t come across that special part last night in their chat. She decided it was too longwinded to explain everything so she did what she had done when Fiona asked a similar question. The witch stood from her chair, took a step to the side and at the same time turned into her cat form and jumped on the kitchen table. She walked toward Ruth and sat down in front of her, her head slightly cocked to the side and her tail slung around her paws.
Ruth was glad she was sitting because she was sure if she didn’t she would have fallen flat on her face. She stared open mouthed at the silver tabby cat in front of her still trying to comprehend what had just transpired. She was carefully reaching out her hand to touch the cat when Fiona’s voice made her stop dead in her tracks.
“Don’t.”
Two pair of eyes looked at her. One flabbergasted the other surprised and a bit appreciatively for the consideration.
“Why not?”
“Because it is impolite or has she given you permission to touch her?”
Ruth shook her head in the negative as she still stared at Fiona before she turned to the cat again.
“Then don’t.”
The cat leaped from the table and turned into her human form again, before she sat down. “Thank you for your consideration.”
“You are welcome.” Fiona smirked at the witch.
“So, what are you?” Ruth couldn’t hold it any longer.
“Just what you said, Ruth, a witch.” Minerva said with a sniff at being compared to some ridiculous characterisation in a stupid muggle fantasy.
Ruth silently contemplated what she had seen and heard for a while. Fiona was over a thousand years old but looked not a day over thirty-five like she had for the more than sixty years now. The woman opposite of her had to be at least as old as herself but looked like to be in her late fifties or early sixties. She could turn into cat at will. So why shouldn’t she be a witch.
“That certainly would explain a few things.” She finally offered.
“Ruthie why don’t you take Minerva to the library while I make some phone calls to find out more about our dear Marcus Barnes?” Fiona suggested.
“Splendid idea.”
They both took their cups with them and walked into the library; Ruth was already swamping Minerva with all kinds of question about witches and wizards. Fiona could hear Minerva explain patiently but sternly that most of the ideas muggles harboured about them were utter rubbish. With her best Professor McGonagall voice she started to set the record straight before the door closed behind them.
***
Three hours and a still blasting headache later Fiona joined them in the library. Each woman was deeply engrossed in a book but looked up when she entered and slumped into one of the comfortable wing chairs by the fire.
“Well?” Ruth asked as she put her book on her lap and looked expectantly at the immortal.
Fiona leaned her head back, she closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “A few leads. Nothing concrete. I will check them tonight.”
“I will accompany you.” Minerva said determined.
“I would rather you stay here. It is dangerous.”
“Do not worry. I can take care of myself”, the witch said in her best Professor McGonagall voice, looking over her reading glasses.
Fiona squinted at her before she shrugged her shoulder and nodded her consent. “Fine. We’ll leave at 10pm. Make sure you are ready. You will need clothes for the occasion. Ruth can help you.” Her voice was gruff as she got up and left. She suppressed the urge to slam the door behind her but didn’t succeed completely.
“That went well.” Ruth muttered at the closed door. She shot Minerva an apologetic glance who raised her eyebrow in question.
“What is her problem?”
“Nothing really. She is just used to handle things alone”, Ruth tried to defuse the situation. “Tell me, do you ever wear your hair down?”
Minerva rolled her eyes at the question. Why were people always so obsessed with her hair? She really couldn’t understand that. Before she could answer though, they heard the slamming of another door.
“She just needs to go for a walk. Getting rid of the headache and blowing off some steam. She’ll be back on time.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. If I know anything about her at all it is the fact that she is good to her word.”
***
With her hands deep in her coat pockets Fiona walked briskly through the busy streets of London. Saturday brought out all kinds of people on the streets. It felt good to get lost in the crowd, being one of them even for a little while. She was angry, angry at Albus Dumbledore for asking her to make such a promise but also angry at herself for agreeing to it. How was she supposed to keep on going when everything was back full force? Her memories were so vivid as if it only happened last week. Fiona had walked as far as Hyde Park. She sat on a bench looking out at the Serpentine watching ducks and swans gliding by. Her thoughts though were back in another time.
Remembering the first time she had met Susanne or Minerva. They had bumped into each other accidentally as Fiona was running down a street and Minerva stepped out of a news agent’s. Her fast reflexes had kept them both from falling as she had grabbed the other woman by her waist and they landed against the wall with Minerva firmly pressed against her front. It was a cliché, when she thought of it. Fiona ruefully chuckled at the thought but how else could she describe it. There she was with her back against a brick wall and the most beautiful woman she had ever laid eyes on firmly in her arms. Those green eyes kept haunting her until today. From there it was only a question of time when they would bare their heart. They fought for the same goal, often working together on one or the other mission to help end the war.
Fiona remembered everything about the first time they made love just as she remembered the last time she had seen the woman who had taken her heart with her when she left without so much as word of good bye. With a sigh she brushed away the tears and slowly walked back to her apartment. They would find out what was going on, eliminate the threat and Minerva could return to her life.
***
At 10pm sharp Fiona was standing in the living room waiting for Minerva to get ready so they could check their sources. When she heard footsteps behind her she turned and nearly lost her footing at the sight in front of her. It wasn’t that the witch was dressed all revealing she was wearing perfectly fitting jeans, a blue shirt and blazer. Her hair wasn’t in its usual tight bun; it was more lose complementing her appearance wonderfully.
“Do you think this will do for our excursion?” Minerva asked self-consciously. Try as she might, there was no way she would ever get comfortable in muggle clothes. An old dog can’t learn new tricks, wasn’t that what muggles used to say about somebody who was so set in her ways like she?
Fiona was stunned; she couldn’t take her eyes off the woman. Her body, her face, her eyes. She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded, afraid that anything she would say would be received the wrong way. She walked past Minerva and gathered her coat before they left the apartment. Ruth had returned to her own house and would return on Monday with news from her friends within the Secret Service.
***
After two hours of hitting London’s nightlife and coming up empty handed, Fiona thought of one last source for the night before they would go home. She would take the back alley of a club she knew was owned by an immortal. Leaving Minerva at the entrance of the alley, she drew her katana and walked at toward the guy who kept watch at the back door. Sensing her presence, the mountain of a man drew his own sword and soon they were circling each other with careful steps. As he advanced at her Fiona had her sword at the ready and parried his blow. They clashed for some time; she suffered a painful slice on her stomach and arm before she could overpower him. The man lay on his back, her sword on his throat.
“Tell your boss I want to speak to him tomorrow 13pm in the church at St. Martin’s in the Field.”
“Who shall I tell him is asking?”
“Raven.” Fiona sheathed her katana and left the alley, glad that Minerva was still waiting where she had left her.
“What was going on I thought...” the witch hissed when she saw the immortal joining her again but stopped when she spotted the blood on her shirt and her hand where it ran down her arm. “You are hurt.”
“Just a few scratches. They will heal soon enough.”
Minerva called a taxi and together they rode home in silence. Fiona was looking out the window when she felt a hand cover her own where it lay between them on the seat. Without turning her head she closed her eyes and gave Minerva’s hand a gentle squeeze.
***
With tired steps Fiona climbed the stairs to the apartment and let them in. She leaned against the wall to take a breath after the taxing fight against this doorman. Her skills as a fighter had prevailed but the sheer power of his blows had been enormous and taken a toll. Minerva closed and locked the door behind them before she turned worried a worried gaze at the immortal. Reaching out to access the injury her hand was stopped a larger one. Before she could even touch Fiona to take a closer look the immortal had intercepted her hand and held her in her own warm one.
“Don’t, please.” Fiona whispered pleadingly.
“You are injured and bleeding quite profusely”, Minerva objected, trying to reach out with her other hand but was also stopped. Fiona held both of Minerva’s hands in her own. She remembered those long, elegant, soft hands and how they had felt on her skin. Her touch had always been gentle and soft, igniting a fire within her. Something she was certain would happen again and although she craved nothing more than to feel those hands on her body again she couldn’t risk it, not right now. For she was sure if she did, she would fall apart and that was something she couldn’t afford. The immortal pushed away from the wall, still holding the witch’s hands and gave them a light squeeze, forcing Minerva to look at her.
“It will heal in no time. Don’t worry. I’ll go take a shower and straight to bed. Good night.”
Letting go of Minerva’s hands, Fiona walked slowly to her bedroom leaving the witch behind. As soon as the bedroom closed behind her, the immortal took off her torn and bloody clothes and headed for the shower. Under warm spray she washed away the remnants of her fight, observing as the wounds closed and the bleeding stopped. When she was clean again, Fiona stepped out of the shower, dried herself off and slipped under the sheets. She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
***
Minerva didn’t have so much luck. When she had recovered from the hurtful brush off she had gone to her room to change into a pair of tartan pyjamas and gone to bed as well. Sleep though evaded her. When the muffled sound of somebody in pain reached her ears she threw the covers aside and walked silently to Fiona’s room. She didn’t need her animagus senses to realise where the moans were coming from, as they grew louder with each step she neared the door. Silently she opened the door of the stubborn woman, certain to find her toppled over in pain after refusing her help. Minerva found her trashing and moaning on the bed, her naked body covered in sweat. She was having a nightmare. The witch stood in the doorway completely dumbfounded. The covers had slipped to Fiona’s waist, leaving her upper body bare.
Minerva swallowed at the sight before her. Her eyes could see every angle and inch of skin. The immortal was truly beautiful; her body was a work of art. Minerva was no stranger to the beauty of the female body but this was magnificent. Her wounds were healed, long dark hair was splayed on the pillow, full breast were moving gently and her stomach was firm and flat. When another pained sound erupted from the bed Minerva was stirred from her musings and stepped closer. It seemed that the immortal was trapped in a nightmare, an awful one by the look of her face and the sounds coming from her mouth. Tentatively Minerva reached out and with a gentle hand she brushed the sweaty hair from the woman’s brow. She sat on the edge of the bed and caressed Fiona’s brow and cheeks soothingly, all the while wondering what horrible pictures were causing so much pain. Unconsciously Fiona leaned into the soothing touch, calming down slowly and starting to mumble incoherently. Minerva pulled the covers with great care over Fiona’s chest, never pausing in her tender ministrations to calm the other down. The immortal snuggled closer into Minerva, seeking the warmth softness of her body. When she was sleeping quietly again the witch attempted to get up only to find herself in a vice like grip by the still slumbering woman.
“Don’t leave me, please. Don’t leave me.” Fiona mumbled desperately. Her eyes were still closed and she pleaded in her sleep. Minerva was shocked by the despair in the immortals voice, it was heart wrenching. She sat down again on top of the covers with her back against the headboard and Fiona’s head in her lap. The witch soothingly stroked the black hair until the other woman settled down again and her breathing evened out. When she was sure that Fiona had fallen in a deep sleep again she scooted carefully out from under the taller woman. She gently kissed the smooth forehead and returned to her own room for the remainder of the night.
***
The recent encounter with her hostess had left Minerva a bit shaken. The tall immortal woman sure had left her mark. Minerva sighed deeply as she lay down underneath the covers and stared at the ceiling. It had been decades since she had felt the nearness and touch of a woman. In her long life there had only been three women she had ever been with and each relationship had either ended by the death of her lover or because she had been left. Before the war against Grindelwald there had been sweet Emily, who had left her for the charms of another woman. After the war it had been hard for Minerva to let anybody close. The injuries she had sustained had left their mark and there was also something she couldn’t quite explain herself. There was this constant longing and a hole in her heart nothing or nobody could ever fill again. Clara had realised that and left her, accusing Minerva of being cold hearted and distant. Amelia had died in the first war against Voldemort. She had been patient and kind. Loving Minerva more than she ever thought she deserved but always leaving her with a feeling of guilt for not loving her better.
There was always a part of Minerva nobody could reach, the part where she had built a wall around this hole in her heart that often left her wanting for something she couldn’t really name. Ever since Amelia’s death there hasn’t been anyone. She had dedicated herself to her work. But the touch of the immortal had steered something in Minerva she couldn’t name either. Fiona was gorgeous; sure, her body magnificent but there was something else. Minerva had felt desire but also something deeper, which was completely ridiculous of course. A woman of her age who wasn’t immortal like the woman in the other room could admire but nothing more.
Minerva McGonagall was no fool, she has never been a vain woman, she knew in her youth she had been good looking but now she realised that her body was ageing. Her hair had turned grey, there were lines on her face and every other part of her body showed signs of a woman past her prime as well. Witches and Wizard did not age the same way muggles did but she certainly looked like a woman in her late fifties or rather early sixties. There was no point in denying it. So what were the chances that somebody like Fiona would ever find her desirable, if it was ever a question at all. She was here to finish her assignment, then she would return to Hogwarts and fight against their enemy. She would lead her life just like she always had, good old reliable and constant McGonagall. With a disgusted huff at her own foolish notions she turned to her side, thinking about the dangers ahead before she fell into a fitful sleep.