Post by Nerweniel on Jul 17, 2005 18:00:22 GMT -5
A/N: To Christy, who gave me the idea- and to Albus. We all know why.
Rating: 13+
Summary: Albus and Minerva's last goodbye.
Setting Sun
She waited for him, that night, as the sun set and the moon rose.
The moonlight gave the woman’s cheeks a milky, near translucent glow and emphasized her remarkable thinness- her weakness, as it were, and with a shiver, she pulled the thick, heavy dressing gown that wasn’t her own a little closer around her shoulders in a brisk gesture.
Minerva McGonagall had never liked to be weak.
She didn’t have to turn around to know that he had arrived, mere minutes later. She never had had to- she’d always felt, the way she felt now, that he was there. A warm, hesitant hand on her shoulder only proved again what she had already known- she did not move.
“Minerva?”
“Albus.”
Her calling out his name was quiet, unmoved and steady. She did not touch him- but he seemed to understand.
It was a mere moment later that the woman did turn around and flung herself into the man’s arms, kissing him passionately- with abandon, almost- and still not a trace of surprise was visible in the lines of his indeed marked face as he returned the kiss with equal fervour.
“You know, then?”
All the reply he needed lay hidden in her next embrace.
Pressing her body to his in an eternal plea for closeness, for the reassurance she knew he could not possibly give, the woman closed her eyes and told him, indeed, everything he needed to know.
Of course I know, Albus.
How could I not.
“I love you.”
***
“I love you.”
It were the words the woman woke up to, the next morning as she, entangled as she found herself in the body of her lover, rested her head on his chest, feeling a familiar finger trace every feature of her delicately lined face- as if trying to etch it into his mind.
She rolled over, ‘till their stomachs were touching under the tousled sheets- and ruffled his long, white hair with a small smile on her lips.
“I love you too, you old coot.”
The man softly smiled, too, at the endless tenderness in her last, whispered words, and pulled her closer, kissing the top of her black-haired head.
She’d always fit perfectly into his arms.
At least some things never change.
The darkness was still thick and near-tangible in the air- but already a distinct streak of pink across the sky announced a new, an other, day- and both of the people on the bed knew what it would bring.
In a sudden fit of despair, the man held the woman close to him with all his might- his chin on her head, her cheek against his neck- feeling his pulse, his heartbeat- and she closed her eyes.
She knew what he had to do, she knew what he would do- but that didn’t mean she didn’t suffer. That didn’t mean both of them didn’t suffer.
As he, slowly, started to disentangle himself from her close embrace, her eyelids fluttered- and dark, deep green eyes linked with sad, blue ones in an embrace of a lifetime.
She remained lying there, on the bed, as he slipped on his robes- hesitantly, yet with a certain degree of determination in his movements- and yet it was, indeed, only a degree.
It was at that moment that the woman realized she could stop him, if she wanted to. No-one could- but then again no-one had known him the way she had, all those years, and she could.
One word- half a line- a gesture, and he would stay.
As he, fully clothed, ready to go, bowed down over the bed, his eyes linked again with hers- her lips parted. Slowly, she took a deep breath- and another one- and another one- until her lips closed again, and she was sure.
I can’t. I can’t.
“Good luck.”
The words came out as a husky whisper- conveying much, much more meaning than just that- holding a life, carrying a love towards where she knew he’d keep them treasured.
As he kissed her lips, hard, she savoured every single movement, every familiar, yet different tingle racing up and down her spine. Never leaving her skin, his lips descended down and down, till he lightly lifted the blanket and, in turn, honoured each breast as well as her navel with a light touch of his mouth.
She knew he was trying to memorize them.
When, once more, his lips crushed hers and tongues battled for a supremacy neither of them had ever gained, Minerva McGonagall sighed- finally- a deep, throaty sigh- but no tears.
Not now.
A last peck told her more than words could ever tell- and with a blanket wrapped around her slim form, the woman watched the man she loved disappear from her sight.
Albus Dumbledore knew he would not return.
Rating: 13+
Summary: Albus and Minerva's last goodbye.
Setting Sun
She waited for him, that night, as the sun set and the moon rose.
The moonlight gave the woman’s cheeks a milky, near translucent glow and emphasized her remarkable thinness- her weakness, as it were, and with a shiver, she pulled the thick, heavy dressing gown that wasn’t her own a little closer around her shoulders in a brisk gesture.
Minerva McGonagall had never liked to be weak.
She didn’t have to turn around to know that he had arrived, mere minutes later. She never had had to- she’d always felt, the way she felt now, that he was there. A warm, hesitant hand on her shoulder only proved again what she had already known- she did not move.
“Minerva?”
“Albus.”
Her calling out his name was quiet, unmoved and steady. She did not touch him- but he seemed to understand.
It was a mere moment later that the woman did turn around and flung herself into the man’s arms, kissing him passionately- with abandon, almost- and still not a trace of surprise was visible in the lines of his indeed marked face as he returned the kiss with equal fervour.
“You know, then?”
All the reply he needed lay hidden in her next embrace.
Pressing her body to his in an eternal plea for closeness, for the reassurance she knew he could not possibly give, the woman closed her eyes and told him, indeed, everything he needed to know.
Of course I know, Albus.
How could I not.
“I love you.”
***
“I love you.”
It were the words the woman woke up to, the next morning as she, entangled as she found herself in the body of her lover, rested her head on his chest, feeling a familiar finger trace every feature of her delicately lined face- as if trying to etch it into his mind.
She rolled over, ‘till their stomachs were touching under the tousled sheets- and ruffled his long, white hair with a small smile on her lips.
“I love you too, you old coot.”
The man softly smiled, too, at the endless tenderness in her last, whispered words, and pulled her closer, kissing the top of her black-haired head.
She’d always fit perfectly into his arms.
At least some things never change.
The darkness was still thick and near-tangible in the air- but already a distinct streak of pink across the sky announced a new, an other, day- and both of the people on the bed knew what it would bring.
In a sudden fit of despair, the man held the woman close to him with all his might- his chin on her head, her cheek against his neck- feeling his pulse, his heartbeat- and she closed her eyes.
She knew what he had to do, she knew what he would do- but that didn’t mean she didn’t suffer. That didn’t mean both of them didn’t suffer.
As he, slowly, started to disentangle himself from her close embrace, her eyelids fluttered- and dark, deep green eyes linked with sad, blue ones in an embrace of a lifetime.
She remained lying there, on the bed, as he slipped on his robes- hesitantly, yet with a certain degree of determination in his movements- and yet it was, indeed, only a degree.
It was at that moment that the woman realized she could stop him, if she wanted to. No-one could- but then again no-one had known him the way she had, all those years, and she could.
One word- half a line- a gesture, and he would stay.
As he, fully clothed, ready to go, bowed down over the bed, his eyes linked again with hers- her lips parted. Slowly, she took a deep breath- and another one- and another one- until her lips closed again, and she was sure.
I can’t. I can’t.
“Good luck.”
The words came out as a husky whisper- conveying much, much more meaning than just that- holding a life, carrying a love towards where she knew he’d keep them treasured.
As he kissed her lips, hard, she savoured every single movement, every familiar, yet different tingle racing up and down her spine. Never leaving her skin, his lips descended down and down, till he lightly lifted the blanket and, in turn, honoured each breast as well as her navel with a light touch of his mouth.
She knew he was trying to memorize them.
When, once more, his lips crushed hers and tongues battled for a supremacy neither of them had ever gained, Minerva McGonagall sighed- finally- a deep, throaty sigh- but no tears.
Not now.
A last peck told her more than words could ever tell- and with a blanket wrapped around her slim form, the woman watched the man she loved disappear from her sight.
Albus Dumbledore knew he would not return.
