Post by morgainegaunt on Aug 31, 2007 5:22:06 GMT -5
Titel: A long farewell
Summary: Shortly before he starts his search for the horcruxes, Albus Dumbledore wants to say good-bye to his deputy. But he does not find Minerva McGonagall the way he expected to...
Rating: T (PG-13)
Author's Note: Thank to Herzele for beta-ing.
A long farewell
“Minerva“, he shouted, for what seemed to be the dozen’s time already, “Open the door, please.”
What was the matter with her, Albus Dumbledore asked himself while starring at the locked wooden door blocking his way to the privat room of his deputy. It had been weeks since they had really talked to each other for the last time. She did no longer ask where he went when he left the school for a few days and she did no longer wait in his office for him to return. Actually, they hardly even saw each other.
“Minerva, please, open the door”, he shouted once more.
Something was not right here. She had not been in the Great Hall for dinner. Not in the staff room. Not in the library or on the grounds, either. He had even checked the Dungeons and the Astronomy Tower. No trace of her.
“Leanna nigra”, he said and the door opened.
Hesitating, he entered the room. He did not have the right to penetrate her rooms like that, he thought, considering he only had the passwords for his colleagues’ rooms for safety reasons. Slowly he crossed her living room. Through the windows opposite he could see a storm brewing. The right wall was completely covered by book shelves. On the other wall, next to the fireplace, hung a gigantic painting, which showed a Scottish mountainside. Near to the fireplace were a sofa and an armchair covered by moss green fabric and a table made of ebony.
How often had they sat here together playing chess, discussing, arguing, he thought and stepped closer to the sofa and the armchair. How often had they sat here till dawn, talking? Now she said barely more than “Good morning”. On the table he saw a glass and a half empty bottle of whiskey. Next to this there was an open book Curse damages – when horror hits you by Lea Murnhoff.
Since when did Minerva read such bad books? And since when was she interested in magical injuries? Did she search a cure for his arm? Maybe he should have told her that there would not be any cure for him. He picked up the book and his gaze fell on the chapter Black Curses – when cure is impossible. The pages were a bit wavy. As if they had been wet. Not coloured by whiskey. Just drenched by water. Cold fingers gripped his heart. She cried for him. Minerva McGonagall, who hardly ever showed weakness, shed tears. For him.
He thought back to when he had fought Grindelwald on the continent. Minerva had been spying on the Dark Lord. It had been her who gave him the crucial information which led to his victory over Grindelwald. The fight had weakened him. She never talked about it but he knew that she had saved his life that night.
Never would he forget how this young woman had confessed her love to him. Never would he forget that night. Or the morning after when he told her that their affair had no future. Never in his life would he forget her face when he explained to her that he could not risk his enemies capturing or torturing her in order to blackmail him.
Those icy fingers gripped his heard so tightly that it almost hurt physically. What if she had never recovered? He had never thought about it. But maybe she had never stopped loving him.
A muffled noise let him come back to the present. The noise came from her bathroom. He opened the second door to the left. Instantly he cursed himself for having thought back to the night he had spent with her over fifty years ago.
Minerva McGonagall was lying in her bathtub and had apparently fallen asleep. Her long curly hair fell over the rim of the bathtub and was dripping water on the white tiles. She had aged immensely. Her once black hair showed grey strands. Deep lines were carved around her lips, which she pressed together so often and parted her front between her eyebrows, which she knitted in disapproval much too often, even now when she was asleep.
What sorts of sorrows haunted her in her sleep and had let her age too early? After all, she was merely seventy.
“Minerva”, he whispered, “Minerva, wake up.”
“Go away”, she muttered without opening her eyes.
She tried to turn over as if lying in a bed but she slipped off the wet bathtub and sunk.
“Minerva”, he shouted, dropped to his knees next to the bathtub, pulled her out of the water and turned her around. He could hold her with his left arm only. He had never noticed that, for her height, she was accordingly heavy.
Coughing heavily, she opened her eyes, which where swollen and red.
“Where am I?” she asked and looked around on her own bathroom apparently bewildered, “What has happened?”
“You fell asleep”, he explained, his left hand still resting on her waist.
She looked at him with those dark green eyes and placed her right hand on his arm as if to check whether he was really here.
“How long have you been lying in here?” he asked not taking his gaze off her face, “Minerva, this water is cold as ice. Your skin must be completely wrinkled.”
“No” she said with an indicated smile, “I always look like this.”
Not taking her hand off his arm, she pulled herself into a sitting position, so that his gaze fell on her breasts.
“Ugly, I know”, she said following his gaze.
“Pardon?”
“The scars”, she explained, “If I ever lay my hands on that Umbridge…”
She stopped in mid sentence and looked up to him. Her eyes were filled with tears.
“You are still a rather beautiful woman”, he said.
Not thinking about what he was doing, not caring that he was just tearing down the invisible wall between them, he took his hand off her waist and ran his finger over the biggest scar which stretched from her left collarbone to a bit over her right breast.
He heard her breathing in abruptly in surprise as his finger reached her dark brown nipple. Her fingers closed around his arms, her fingernails dug into his skin.
“Albus”, she began.
“Minerva”, he said at the same time.
“We cannot do that”, she said, her voice steady although her whole body was trembling, “Would you please hand me a towel?”
“Certainly”, he said, reaching for a white towel on a stool.
He heard her getting up as he turned around to reach the tool with his uninjured hand.
“What brings you here, anyway?” she asked while wringing out her hair.
She talked as if sitting behind the desk in her office. But when he turned to her again, he noticed, in an almost painful way, that this was not the case. He cursed his body, on which the sight of his naked colleague had an effect she, he hoped, would not notice without her glasses.
“I was worried”, he said.
He handed her the towel and tried not to think about the desire that his tanned, curvy woman aroused in him.
“About me?” she asked, eyebrows raised and wrapping herself with the towel, “It would take more than that to finish me.”
She was completely back to her old self, he thought, while she tied the ends of her towel behind her back; controlled curt, cold.
Carefully, as if not to slip once more, she climbed out of the bathtub. While she was doing so, the towel slid upwards to her thigh. She blushed, when she caught him looking exactly where there was no towel now. Surely not because of the cellulite?
He forced himself to take his gaze off her long legs and offered her his arm instead to safely guide her out off of bathroom. He noticed that she clung to him rather tightly in order to hide her staggering gait.
“You really gave me a fright, Minerva” he said when they reached the living room, “I searched half the castle for you.”
“Why?” she asked sharply while putting her glasses back on.
“For Merlin’s sake, I was worried about you, Minerva”, he said, trying not to sound too reproachful, “You have not been talking to me for weeks. We hardly see each other. One could nearly think you are keeping out of my way.”
“I – keeping out of your way?” she shouted, “It is you who isn’t talking to me. You’re constantly leaving the castle. I nearly die worrying. But you, of course, don’t need to tell me where you’re going.”
“Minerva” he said raising his hands in an attempt to calm her, “Please try to understand me. I cannot tell you. It is too dangerous. If Voldemort found out that you knew more than other members of the Order – and I am sure, he would – he would capture you and torture you until-“
“Until I told him?” she shouted, “Are you being serious? Do you think me that weak, that I would tell him anything? Do you really believe I didn’t have the courage to fight the Imperius Curse? Do you think I was afraid of the pain he could inflict upon me?”
“Minerva” he said sharply, “Voldemort has other ways of forcing the truth out of you. He could use Leglimency, or Veritaserum-“
“Now listen closely!” she shouted and took a step towards him, “Do you think I’d let that happen? Do you think I’m not able or too cowardly to put an end to myself before he breaks me?”
“I doubt neither your ability nor your courage, Minerva”, he began, but again she interrupted him.
“Really! Is that so?” she screamed, “So you don’t trust me, then? You think I’d desert you? Do you re-really believe I’d b-betray you?”
She took another step towards him. She was so close to him that he could see the tears in her eyes. Did she think he thought so ill of her?
“Minerva” he whispered and put his left hand on her shoulder. How could he make it clear to her? How could he explain that he…?
That he what? he thought, if he could not express his feelings even to himself. Tears were streaming down her face. But she did not make a sound.
“Minerva” he tried again, “This has nothing to do with you.”
She opened her mouth. For a moment he thought she would start shouting again. But she did not say anything, closed her mouth again and raised an eyebrow instead.
“I know it is not easy for you” he said, “ But I cannot put you at risk. Not because of you. Because of me.”
Slowly he raised his hand and wiped the tears off her cheeks.
“But you will go nevertheless, won’t you?” she whispered, “And I have to stay here and worry.”
“Yes”, he said lowly.
“In that case, you’d rather take care of yourself” she said, “I have no interest in organising your funeral, Albus.”
He could only nod. He wanted to explain how important it was to search for the horcruxes. He wanted to tell her how much she meant to him, tell her she would be a good headmistress. But it seemed to him as if his voice had suddenly run away and as if his body was being disobedient.
Silent and immovable he stood there while she stood on her tiptoes and placed her hands on his shoulders. He did not move when she came nearer and nearer and placed her lips gently over his.
How much he liked to grab her, pull her close, return the kiss, put her on the sofa… How much he liked to repress his mission, let Harry wait in the Entrance Hall and forget the horcruxes in her arms… But he could not move and she withdrew.
For a while they stood there in silence. He heard a clock ticking, their time running out.
“You have to go, I suppose” she said finally.
He knew that she tried to sound cold and brash but her voice was low and rough. He nodded and turned around to leave. He knew he would not be able to say another word.
“Good luck” she said and opened the door for him, “I will tell the others to keep watch tonight. I will wait for you in your office tomorrow.”
THE END
In case you wonder whether you've already read a similar story this is the English version of my story "Der lange Abschied" on ff.net. Link is here: www.fanfiction.net/s/3656226/1/Ein_langer_Abschied
Summary: Shortly before he starts his search for the horcruxes, Albus Dumbledore wants to say good-bye to his deputy. But he does not find Minerva McGonagall the way he expected to...
Rating: T (PG-13)
Author's Note: Thank to Herzele for beta-ing.
A long farewell
“Minerva“, he shouted, for what seemed to be the dozen’s time already, “Open the door, please.”
What was the matter with her, Albus Dumbledore asked himself while starring at the locked wooden door blocking his way to the privat room of his deputy. It had been weeks since they had really talked to each other for the last time. She did no longer ask where he went when he left the school for a few days and she did no longer wait in his office for him to return. Actually, they hardly even saw each other.
“Minerva, please, open the door”, he shouted once more.
Something was not right here. She had not been in the Great Hall for dinner. Not in the staff room. Not in the library or on the grounds, either. He had even checked the Dungeons and the Astronomy Tower. No trace of her.
“Leanna nigra”, he said and the door opened.
Hesitating, he entered the room. He did not have the right to penetrate her rooms like that, he thought, considering he only had the passwords for his colleagues’ rooms for safety reasons. Slowly he crossed her living room. Through the windows opposite he could see a storm brewing. The right wall was completely covered by book shelves. On the other wall, next to the fireplace, hung a gigantic painting, which showed a Scottish mountainside. Near to the fireplace were a sofa and an armchair covered by moss green fabric and a table made of ebony.
How often had they sat here together playing chess, discussing, arguing, he thought and stepped closer to the sofa and the armchair. How often had they sat here till dawn, talking? Now she said barely more than “Good morning”. On the table he saw a glass and a half empty bottle of whiskey. Next to this there was an open book Curse damages – when horror hits you by Lea Murnhoff.
Since when did Minerva read such bad books? And since when was she interested in magical injuries? Did she search a cure for his arm? Maybe he should have told her that there would not be any cure for him. He picked up the book and his gaze fell on the chapter Black Curses – when cure is impossible. The pages were a bit wavy. As if they had been wet. Not coloured by whiskey. Just drenched by water. Cold fingers gripped his heart. She cried for him. Minerva McGonagall, who hardly ever showed weakness, shed tears. For him.
He thought back to when he had fought Grindelwald on the continent. Minerva had been spying on the Dark Lord. It had been her who gave him the crucial information which led to his victory over Grindelwald. The fight had weakened him. She never talked about it but he knew that she had saved his life that night.
Never would he forget how this young woman had confessed her love to him. Never would he forget that night. Or the morning after when he told her that their affair had no future. Never in his life would he forget her face when he explained to her that he could not risk his enemies capturing or torturing her in order to blackmail him.
Those icy fingers gripped his heard so tightly that it almost hurt physically. What if she had never recovered? He had never thought about it. But maybe she had never stopped loving him.
A muffled noise let him come back to the present. The noise came from her bathroom. He opened the second door to the left. Instantly he cursed himself for having thought back to the night he had spent with her over fifty years ago.
Minerva McGonagall was lying in her bathtub and had apparently fallen asleep. Her long curly hair fell over the rim of the bathtub and was dripping water on the white tiles. She had aged immensely. Her once black hair showed grey strands. Deep lines were carved around her lips, which she pressed together so often and parted her front between her eyebrows, which she knitted in disapproval much too often, even now when she was asleep.
What sorts of sorrows haunted her in her sleep and had let her age too early? After all, she was merely seventy.
“Minerva”, he whispered, “Minerva, wake up.”
“Go away”, she muttered without opening her eyes.
She tried to turn over as if lying in a bed but she slipped off the wet bathtub and sunk.
“Minerva”, he shouted, dropped to his knees next to the bathtub, pulled her out of the water and turned her around. He could hold her with his left arm only. He had never noticed that, for her height, she was accordingly heavy.
Coughing heavily, she opened her eyes, which where swollen and red.
“Where am I?” she asked and looked around on her own bathroom apparently bewildered, “What has happened?”
“You fell asleep”, he explained, his left hand still resting on her waist.
She looked at him with those dark green eyes and placed her right hand on his arm as if to check whether he was really here.
“How long have you been lying in here?” he asked not taking his gaze off her face, “Minerva, this water is cold as ice. Your skin must be completely wrinkled.”
“No” she said with an indicated smile, “I always look like this.”
Not taking her hand off his arm, she pulled herself into a sitting position, so that his gaze fell on her breasts.
“Ugly, I know”, she said following his gaze.
“Pardon?”
“The scars”, she explained, “If I ever lay my hands on that Umbridge…”
She stopped in mid sentence and looked up to him. Her eyes were filled with tears.
“You are still a rather beautiful woman”, he said.
Not thinking about what he was doing, not caring that he was just tearing down the invisible wall between them, he took his hand off her waist and ran his finger over the biggest scar which stretched from her left collarbone to a bit over her right breast.
He heard her breathing in abruptly in surprise as his finger reached her dark brown nipple. Her fingers closed around his arms, her fingernails dug into his skin.
“Albus”, she began.
“Minerva”, he said at the same time.
“We cannot do that”, she said, her voice steady although her whole body was trembling, “Would you please hand me a towel?”
“Certainly”, he said, reaching for a white towel on a stool.
He heard her getting up as he turned around to reach the tool with his uninjured hand.
“What brings you here, anyway?” she asked while wringing out her hair.
She talked as if sitting behind the desk in her office. But when he turned to her again, he noticed, in an almost painful way, that this was not the case. He cursed his body, on which the sight of his naked colleague had an effect she, he hoped, would not notice without her glasses.
“I was worried”, he said.
He handed her the towel and tried not to think about the desire that his tanned, curvy woman aroused in him.
“About me?” she asked, eyebrows raised and wrapping herself with the towel, “It would take more than that to finish me.”
She was completely back to her old self, he thought, while she tied the ends of her towel behind her back; controlled curt, cold.
Carefully, as if not to slip once more, she climbed out of the bathtub. While she was doing so, the towel slid upwards to her thigh. She blushed, when she caught him looking exactly where there was no towel now. Surely not because of the cellulite?
He forced himself to take his gaze off her long legs and offered her his arm instead to safely guide her out off of bathroom. He noticed that she clung to him rather tightly in order to hide her staggering gait.
“You really gave me a fright, Minerva” he said when they reached the living room, “I searched half the castle for you.”
“Why?” she asked sharply while putting her glasses back on.
“For Merlin’s sake, I was worried about you, Minerva”, he said, trying not to sound too reproachful, “You have not been talking to me for weeks. We hardly see each other. One could nearly think you are keeping out of my way.”
“I – keeping out of your way?” she shouted, “It is you who isn’t talking to me. You’re constantly leaving the castle. I nearly die worrying. But you, of course, don’t need to tell me where you’re going.”
“Minerva” he said raising his hands in an attempt to calm her, “Please try to understand me. I cannot tell you. It is too dangerous. If Voldemort found out that you knew more than other members of the Order – and I am sure, he would – he would capture you and torture you until-“
“Until I told him?” she shouted, “Are you being serious? Do you think me that weak, that I would tell him anything? Do you really believe I didn’t have the courage to fight the Imperius Curse? Do you think I was afraid of the pain he could inflict upon me?”
“Minerva” he said sharply, “Voldemort has other ways of forcing the truth out of you. He could use Leglimency, or Veritaserum-“
“Now listen closely!” she shouted and took a step towards him, “Do you think I’d let that happen? Do you think I’m not able or too cowardly to put an end to myself before he breaks me?”
“I doubt neither your ability nor your courage, Minerva”, he began, but again she interrupted him.
“Really! Is that so?” she screamed, “So you don’t trust me, then? You think I’d desert you? Do you re-really believe I’d b-betray you?”
She took another step towards him. She was so close to him that he could see the tears in her eyes. Did she think he thought so ill of her?
“Minerva” he whispered and put his left hand on her shoulder. How could he make it clear to her? How could he explain that he…?
That he what? he thought, if he could not express his feelings even to himself. Tears were streaming down her face. But she did not make a sound.
“Minerva” he tried again, “This has nothing to do with you.”
She opened her mouth. For a moment he thought she would start shouting again. But she did not say anything, closed her mouth again and raised an eyebrow instead.
“I know it is not easy for you” he said, “ But I cannot put you at risk. Not because of you. Because of me.”
Slowly he raised his hand and wiped the tears off her cheeks.
“But you will go nevertheless, won’t you?” she whispered, “And I have to stay here and worry.”
“Yes”, he said lowly.
“In that case, you’d rather take care of yourself” she said, “I have no interest in organising your funeral, Albus.”
He could only nod. He wanted to explain how important it was to search for the horcruxes. He wanted to tell her how much she meant to him, tell her she would be a good headmistress. But it seemed to him as if his voice had suddenly run away and as if his body was being disobedient.
Silent and immovable he stood there while she stood on her tiptoes and placed her hands on his shoulders. He did not move when she came nearer and nearer and placed her lips gently over his.
How much he liked to grab her, pull her close, return the kiss, put her on the sofa… How much he liked to repress his mission, let Harry wait in the Entrance Hall and forget the horcruxes in her arms… But he could not move and she withdrew.
For a while they stood there in silence. He heard a clock ticking, their time running out.
“You have to go, I suppose” she said finally.
He knew that she tried to sound cold and brash but her voice was low and rough. He nodded and turned around to leave. He knew he would not be able to say another word.
“Good luck” she said and opened the door for him, “I will tell the others to keep watch tonight. I will wait for you in your office tomorrow.”
THE END
In case you wonder whether you've already read a similar story this is the English version of my story "Der lange Abschied" on ff.net. Link is here: www.fanfiction.net/s/3656226/1/Ein_langer_Abschied
*hands over handkershiefs*
