Seven Devils ★ T.M.R ★

Chapter Nineteen

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A THING OF THE PAST
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MARINA SHIFTED ON her support leg, finding her balance as she bent the other up to her hip. She inched her leg outwards perpendicular to her body in a slow-motion kick, trying to hold good form as her muscles strained against the slow movement. Outside the windows of her small room at the Leaky Cauldron, snow was falling in a frantic flurry, resting on the rooftops of the shops of Diagon Alley. It was a few days before Christmas and the cold had encroached in her room enough to inspire her to exercise just to keep warm.

Marina held the position as long as she could before her support leg starting trembling and the strain became near unbearable. She retracted her kick just as slowly, fighting to keep control of her body and keep the movement smooth. Before she could repeat the exercise on the other side, a tap at her window made her look around. A tawny owl flapped at the glass, rapping its beak impatiently as a scroll dangled from its leg. Marina hurried over, wiping sweat off her brow and shaking out her legs as she went. The owl gratefully swooped inside from the cold, immediately coming to a rest on the rail of her bed. She chuckled when it held its little leg out for her to take the letter – it was a strange parallel of what she'd just been doing. After she untied the letter, the owl settled into its feathers, unwilling to return to the snow so soon.

Marina gave its head a little pat as she broke the wax seal on the scroll and smoothed it out.

Marina,

I hope this note finds you much recovered. Please meet me at my office at 5 o'clock tonight before our meeting with Albus – if you intend to join us, of course. I wish to discuss some matters with you in private.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Marina's eyes lingered on the mentioning of the meeting with Dumbledore; since her discharge from St Mungo's she'd not heard from him, nor had she attended the meetings. Unlike the last time, she didn't mind his silence as she'd expressly told him that she didn't want to talk. Despite her turbulent feelings towards him, she begrudgingly appreciated that he was respecting her wishes.

She sighed, rolling up the note and placing it on her dresser as she lifted her other leg to balance out her exercise. She had an inkling as to what McGonagall wanted to talk about – Marina's clash with Dumbledore was hardly private knowledge. It wasn't like the others hadn't tried to talk her out of it already; less than a week out of St Mungo's, Remus had taken her out for a meal during which he'd repeatedly mentioned how Dumbledore was concerned about her and hoped that she'd write. Marina had candidly ignored these attempts and he'd given up, not one for striking conflict between the two of them where none already existed.

Moody had given a very different approach, alerting her to his impending visit by owl, arriving exactly on the dot, and launching straight into the conversation with the standard lack of pleasantries that she'd grown to expect from him. Marina actually appreciated this approach significantly more than Remus' simply because she liked straightforwardness. Moody's frank inquisition allowed her to be equally candid back without fear of offense or jeopardisation of her relationship with Moody himself. But however different their attempts had been, neither succeeded in changing her feelings – feelings that she realised she'd have to reiterate again for McGonagall that evening.

Marina's screaming muscles yanked her back to the present and she struggled to keep smooth control as she lowered her leg. Sighing deeply, she dropped to the floor to hold a plank.

Right as she'd lifted herself up onto her forearms her door unceremoniously swung open and Riddle walked in and dropped his bag heavily beside her dresser. He turned and shut the door harder than was strictly necessary. The owl on her bed ruffled its feathers indignantly.