Post by Nerweniel on Nov 22, 2004 13:25:23 GMT -5
“AVADA KEDAVRA!” was the last words that reached his ears through the thick, greenish daze that hung around the battlefield. He even didn’t know whether it had been his own voice or his opponent’s which had yelled the curse. His eyes closed- a heavy bang against the backside of his head echoed and echoed through his mind- and there was darkness…
***
As he opened his sky blue eyes again, the first thing he saw was green- green, everywhere. The green of the meadows surrounding the estate of his parents, the green of his early childhood. The green of the lawns of Hogwarts, where he had spent the greatest part of his adult life- the green of the German woods that had formed his home during the last, three months.
The green of the Avada Kedavra curse.
He was dead.
Yes, he was. The cool hand of an angel rested against his hot cheek- and it was the black braid of that angel which slightly tickled his chin as she, the angel, bowed over him and threw her arms around him.
“Albus, you’re okay!”
She was beautiful, he noticed, and he smiled in bliss. If death meant spending eternity in the caring arms of Minerva Caitríona McGonagall- then it was not that bad after all…
Minerva Caitríona McGonagall?!
He tried to move his head, but all he could do was slightly turn it- of course immediately hitting her straight into the eye with that damned nose of his. She jumped up as if stung by a bee- a bumblebee, he ironically added- and he heard himself remark- rather stupidly, really
“Minerva- are you dead as well?”
His own words echoed like a hammer against the inside of his head- and immediately he closed his eyes again. Why oh why did he feel so weak- why couldn’t he even tell the girl he loved properly that he loved her- that he had ever since her 6th year at Hogwarts? He had sworn to tell her on the morning of that last day of battle- and here he lay now. She slightly smiled as she sat down next to him again, resting one of her hands on his forehead.
“No, I am not dead, and nor are you- though that attack on me with your nose was highly cowardly, might I add!”
But she was smiling- and so was he, a tiny bit more sheepishly. Perhaps this was not exactly death- but it was heaven indeed. He did not know what had happened, why he lay here, in what looked very much like Minerva’s own apartment- if the Quidditch posters and tartan bedcovers were anything to go at- and though the last thing he remembered was himself being killed or almost killed on a battlefield in Germany, he really did not feel like asking questions. As her cool hand came to rest against his hot cheek once more, he closed his eyes. Perfect. It was as if she could wipe every single bit of pain away by one, soft touch of those long, slender fingers of hers.
“I suppose it is custom… in these circumstances… to ask… where I am…?”
He was surprised of the laborious tone of his voice himself- but she apparently was not. A soft smile came over her lips as she shook her head and sat down beside him on the bed covers. If he’d raise his hand, he could almost touch her- but no, he mustn’t think such things… She was twenty-one- young enough to be his granddaughter- an ex-student and though they had already back in her 7th year started to call each other by their first names, he had never found enough of his so-called “Gryffindor courage” to simply tell her the one thing he had always wanted to tell her. His oath at the battlefield seemed so far away now- so impossible…
“You shouldn’t be asking anything, in these circumstances, in fact, Albus- but if you really want to know, you’re in my apartment in London. You returned from Germany half-dead- they brought you to Hogwarts, but seeing the enormous number of *fans* you seem to have gained, both me and Madam Arden thought it better to give you the chance to recover here, in private, before facing the rest of the world.”
Fans? Half-dead? The rest of the world? With difficulty, Albus closed his eyes again. What had happened? He remembered the German battlefield of course- and he remembered fighting against- the Dark Lord Grindelwald? As his eyelids fluttered open in unspoken question, Minerva smiled and nodded.
“Yes, Albus, you have defeated Grindelwald. He is dead, he is gone forever- and I- I mean, thank you.”
Her hug came rather unexpected- she had never been a terribly physical person- but it was no unwelcome surprise indeed. He smiled as he patted her back- revelling in the mere feeling of holding her- then, reluctantly released her.
He knew very well what the reason behind this almost- triumphant- happiness was. Minerva Caitríona McGonagall, after all, had at sixteen, in the terrible year of 1940, been one of the first children to be orphaned by the war which had raged through the wizarding world for five full years. Her parents, both Aurors, had risked their lives and lost it in the end- and their only child, a girl, had been left on this earth with nothing more than a handful of Galleons and one, old Scottish Aunt. But, true Gryffindor as she had been, Minerva McGonagall had- who had expected it to be otherwise?- flatly refused to play the part of the poor little orphan girl. She had fought on, gritted her teeth, become the youngest Animagus ever and ended her 7th year with the most fabulous NEWT scores of the century. No-one had been surprised, despite the fates of her parents, that she had inscribed for Auror training at eighteen- and now, three years later, she was about to graduate with- naturally- top grades in about every subject.
But somewhere deep down- and Albus had always known that- the poor little orphan girl had lurked beneath the surface. And this was her hug- this was the hug of a girl who had suffered to the man who had revenged her parents.
And Albus smiled. Her face- and her face alone- had been engraved into the inside of her eye at the morning of that horrible last day. For her- for her alone- had he, too, gritted his teeth and stood up against the Lord Grindelwald.
If only she knew.
***
The process of healing of the middle-aged Transfiguration Teacher went quicker than anyone had hoped. He had very nearly escaped death, after all, and everyday, at her daily visit time, Madam Arden expressed her sincere happiness about the way the man’s body was recovering. Minerva then literally glowed with pride- but Albus just smiled. He knew he owed his quick improvement to her- and to her alone. She cooked for him, read out loud for him in the beginning, when he’d barely been able to keep his eyes open, she spoke with him about many different subjects- not necessarily the war, even- and she simply was there for him. Being constantly around her was the world he had always dreamt about and more- he had once mistaken her for an angel, but actually she was an angel. His very own, private, Scottish-tempered and cat-eyed nursing angel- that she was indeed. Everything he wanted was to repay her in some way- but she seemed so strong, so absolutely determined, that he had not got a clue what he, who was barely able to walk again, could possibly do for her. Until that one day.
She had prepared soup for him- thick, healthy soup, a Scottish Secret, as she had told him- and as she bowed over him to place the still hot bowl on his bedside table, he noticed- oh, but very briefly!- a muscle in her mouth corner twitching. Minerva McGonagall was wincing. The same thing happened when she stood up straight again, and naturally he could not have it go unnoticed.
“Minerva, what is wrong with your back?”
Of course she insisted that she was perfectly alright- but he knew her too well to ever believe that, and she found herself giving in to his demand in the end. Her explanation was a confused one- but for some reason, he immediately saw what she meant.
“It is nothing…” she began.
“It is just- well, Madam Arden said there could be after-effects of the Curse, Albus. I did not want to take the risk of you getting some kind of heart attack at night, so I’ve slept beside you as Tabby- so I’d feel it if you stirred.”
The way she lowered her eyes and the red burn on her cheeks looked so uncharacteristically young on her, that the Transfiguration Professor could not but smile. Grabbing her hand so as to make her sit down beside him, he inclined his head towards her obviously aching back.
“And that? I pushed you out of the bed, didn’t I? Tabby-“
She almost rolled his eyes at his worried expression- but he was serious. He could read the fatigue in her eyes, realized that it had been many nights since she had properly slept in a bed, and immediately decided to do something about it. Grabbing his wand, which had been lying unused on his bedside table for many days now, he muttered a quick spell. The single bed he’d been resting in was a kingsize, four-poster bed now- and though he sincerely hoped that she would not think this too forward of him, he sternly nodded.
“You’re going to sleep there, tonight, my dear, and you will make sure you sleep well. I have almost entirely healed, and I will not have you dying of fatigue before I can repay you for everything you have done for me these past days.”
So that night, it was not Albus but Minerva who found herself tucked in as if she were a child, it was Minerva who found her glasses being removed from her nose by two caring, tender hands- and it was Minerva who happily sighed as she closed her eyes. Up to dreamland she went.
If she wasn’t there already, that was.
***
As he opened his sky blue eyes again, the first thing he saw was green- green, everywhere. The green of the meadows surrounding the estate of his parents, the green of his early childhood. The green of the lawns of Hogwarts, where he had spent the greatest part of his adult life- the green of the German woods that had formed his home during the last, three months.
The green of the Avada Kedavra curse.
He was dead.
Yes, he was. The cool hand of an angel rested against his hot cheek- and it was the black braid of that angel which slightly tickled his chin as she, the angel, bowed over him and threw her arms around him.
“Albus, you’re okay!”
She was beautiful, he noticed, and he smiled in bliss. If death meant spending eternity in the caring arms of Minerva Caitríona McGonagall- then it was not that bad after all…
Minerva Caitríona McGonagall?!
He tried to move his head, but all he could do was slightly turn it- of course immediately hitting her straight into the eye with that damned nose of his. She jumped up as if stung by a bee- a bumblebee, he ironically added- and he heard himself remark- rather stupidly, really
“Minerva- are you dead as well?”
His own words echoed like a hammer against the inside of his head- and immediately he closed his eyes again. Why oh why did he feel so weak- why couldn’t he even tell the girl he loved properly that he loved her- that he had ever since her 6th year at Hogwarts? He had sworn to tell her on the morning of that last day of battle- and here he lay now. She slightly smiled as she sat down next to him again, resting one of her hands on his forehead.
“No, I am not dead, and nor are you- though that attack on me with your nose was highly cowardly, might I add!”
But she was smiling- and so was he, a tiny bit more sheepishly. Perhaps this was not exactly death- but it was heaven indeed. He did not know what had happened, why he lay here, in what looked very much like Minerva’s own apartment- if the Quidditch posters and tartan bedcovers were anything to go at- and though the last thing he remembered was himself being killed or almost killed on a battlefield in Germany, he really did not feel like asking questions. As her cool hand came to rest against his hot cheek once more, he closed his eyes. Perfect. It was as if she could wipe every single bit of pain away by one, soft touch of those long, slender fingers of hers.
“I suppose it is custom… in these circumstances… to ask… where I am…?”
He was surprised of the laborious tone of his voice himself- but she apparently was not. A soft smile came over her lips as she shook her head and sat down beside him on the bed covers. If he’d raise his hand, he could almost touch her- but no, he mustn’t think such things… She was twenty-one- young enough to be his granddaughter- an ex-student and though they had already back in her 7th year started to call each other by their first names, he had never found enough of his so-called “Gryffindor courage” to simply tell her the one thing he had always wanted to tell her. His oath at the battlefield seemed so far away now- so impossible…
“You shouldn’t be asking anything, in these circumstances, in fact, Albus- but if you really want to know, you’re in my apartment in London. You returned from Germany half-dead- they brought you to Hogwarts, but seeing the enormous number of *fans* you seem to have gained, both me and Madam Arden thought it better to give you the chance to recover here, in private, before facing the rest of the world.”
Fans? Half-dead? The rest of the world? With difficulty, Albus closed his eyes again. What had happened? He remembered the German battlefield of course- and he remembered fighting against- the Dark Lord Grindelwald? As his eyelids fluttered open in unspoken question, Minerva smiled and nodded.
“Yes, Albus, you have defeated Grindelwald. He is dead, he is gone forever- and I- I mean, thank you.”
Her hug came rather unexpected- she had never been a terribly physical person- but it was no unwelcome surprise indeed. He smiled as he patted her back- revelling in the mere feeling of holding her- then, reluctantly released her.
He knew very well what the reason behind this almost- triumphant- happiness was. Minerva Caitríona McGonagall, after all, had at sixteen, in the terrible year of 1940, been one of the first children to be orphaned by the war which had raged through the wizarding world for five full years. Her parents, both Aurors, had risked their lives and lost it in the end- and their only child, a girl, had been left on this earth with nothing more than a handful of Galleons and one, old Scottish Aunt. But, true Gryffindor as she had been, Minerva McGonagall had- who had expected it to be otherwise?- flatly refused to play the part of the poor little orphan girl. She had fought on, gritted her teeth, become the youngest Animagus ever and ended her 7th year with the most fabulous NEWT scores of the century. No-one had been surprised, despite the fates of her parents, that she had inscribed for Auror training at eighteen- and now, three years later, she was about to graduate with- naturally- top grades in about every subject.
But somewhere deep down- and Albus had always known that- the poor little orphan girl had lurked beneath the surface. And this was her hug- this was the hug of a girl who had suffered to the man who had revenged her parents.
And Albus smiled. Her face- and her face alone- had been engraved into the inside of her eye at the morning of that horrible last day. For her- for her alone- had he, too, gritted his teeth and stood up against the Lord Grindelwald.
If only she knew.
***
The process of healing of the middle-aged Transfiguration Teacher went quicker than anyone had hoped. He had very nearly escaped death, after all, and everyday, at her daily visit time, Madam Arden expressed her sincere happiness about the way the man’s body was recovering. Minerva then literally glowed with pride- but Albus just smiled. He knew he owed his quick improvement to her- and to her alone. She cooked for him, read out loud for him in the beginning, when he’d barely been able to keep his eyes open, she spoke with him about many different subjects- not necessarily the war, even- and she simply was there for him. Being constantly around her was the world he had always dreamt about and more- he had once mistaken her for an angel, but actually she was an angel. His very own, private, Scottish-tempered and cat-eyed nursing angel- that she was indeed. Everything he wanted was to repay her in some way- but she seemed so strong, so absolutely determined, that he had not got a clue what he, who was barely able to walk again, could possibly do for her. Until that one day.
She had prepared soup for him- thick, healthy soup, a Scottish Secret, as she had told him- and as she bowed over him to place the still hot bowl on his bedside table, he noticed- oh, but very briefly!- a muscle in her mouth corner twitching. Minerva McGonagall was wincing. The same thing happened when she stood up straight again, and naturally he could not have it go unnoticed.
“Minerva, what is wrong with your back?”
Of course she insisted that she was perfectly alright- but he knew her too well to ever believe that, and she found herself giving in to his demand in the end. Her explanation was a confused one- but for some reason, he immediately saw what she meant.
“It is nothing…” she began.
“It is just- well, Madam Arden said there could be after-effects of the Curse, Albus. I did not want to take the risk of you getting some kind of heart attack at night, so I’ve slept beside you as Tabby- so I’d feel it if you stirred.”
The way she lowered her eyes and the red burn on her cheeks looked so uncharacteristically young on her, that the Transfiguration Professor could not but smile. Grabbing her hand so as to make her sit down beside him, he inclined his head towards her obviously aching back.
“And that? I pushed you out of the bed, didn’t I? Tabby-“
She almost rolled his eyes at his worried expression- but he was serious. He could read the fatigue in her eyes, realized that it had been many nights since she had properly slept in a bed, and immediately decided to do something about it. Grabbing his wand, which had been lying unused on his bedside table for many days now, he muttered a quick spell. The single bed he’d been resting in was a kingsize, four-poster bed now- and though he sincerely hoped that she would not think this too forward of him, he sternly nodded.
“You’re going to sleep there, tonight, my dear, and you will make sure you sleep well. I have almost entirely healed, and I will not have you dying of fatigue before I can repay you for everything you have done for me these past days.”
So that night, it was not Albus but Minerva who found herself tucked in as if she were a child, it was Minerva who found her glasses being removed from her nose by two caring, tender hands- and it was Minerva who happily sighed as she closed her eyes. Up to dreamland she went.
If she wasn’t there already, that was.
