Fallen Lioness

[gahhMinerva]

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter ideas and characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I do not claim to own or to have created them.

Title: Fallen Lioness

Summary: Minerva McGonagall always appeared to be strong, and though she was, sometimes even the best need help finding their strength.

Rating: 13+

Chapter 1: Lone Flickering Candle

"I'm sorry, Minerva. It just wouldn't work out... Nothing is there."

Minerva McGonagall felt like she had been struck with a Stunner. She couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. There she stood, gaping dumbly at this man. It was all she could do.

"Are you all right?" he asked softly.

Minerva nodded.

"Of course," she managed in a voice not like her own. It was a squeaky, choked-up voice, which didn't sound like her at all. "I should go," she continued, turning toward the door. She had to get away from that room, away from that man. She needed to be alone. Just as she placed her hand on the knob, a voice behind her spoke.

"Minerva."

It was a firm, yet gentle, command. Slowly, Professor McGonagall turned around to face him. Those blue eyes bore into her, completely without their usual twinkle. She hated when his eyes lost their sparkle. The small change in his appearance signified deep negative feelings, namely, disappointment, sadness, or anger. Those feelings didn't suit him. The sparkle did.

"Please, let us just pretend this never happened. We mustn't let our relationship grow awkward." His tone was grave.

"Right," Minerva agreed shortly and made a swift exit. She hurried down the winding staircase and shot past the stone gargoyle. As soon as she felt she was far enough away, she reduced her speed to a normal pace. It was late. No students roamed the halls, and the other teachers, in general, did not wander at this hour. There was no need to run. She had already escaped the uncomfortable situation with Albus.

Albus Dumbledore. Never in her life had she felt uncomfortable in his presence. She didn't like the change.

She murmured the password to the portrait of Godric Gryffindor. The portrait swung open to allow Minerva to enter her private quarters. She walked straight toward her bedroom and collapsed onto her bed. She didn't even bother to turn on the magically-powered lights. She simply sat wordlessly there, gazing blankly at the wall. Even the loud meowing of her cat-shaped clock when the hour hand struck eleven didn't snap her out of this trance-like state. An onlooker would probably find this setting eerily quiet.

Minerva replayed the night's events over and over in her head. It was a normal evening. She and Albus played their nightly chess match and discussed whatever topics came to mind. Conversation always flowed freely, and this night was no different. Only this time, Minerva decided to change the conversation to a daring subject. She knew it was risky, and she had debated if, when, and how to do this for quite some time. Finally, she had concluded that the risk was well worth the reward. Otherwise, she wouldn't have done it. She had professed her love to him.

Well, she partially did. She had gotten nervous and told him that she sincerely cared for him. She sincerely cared for him in a romantic way. Then she asked if he'd be willing to try a "closer relationship." It was the honest truth, but it wasn't the entire truth. She wasn't sure what would have happened if she did say that she loved him. Love if such a strong word. Maybe she didn't actually love Albus Dumbledore. She felt like a silly schoolgirl.

"What have I done?" she muttered into the stillness.

The same strange silence was restored after a moment. She twisted her thin lips into a frown and stared dejectedly into the darkness.

Was that a reckless thing to do? Minerva wondered. She knew she could have used better phrasing. Other than that, she simply didn't know. Was she foolishly confusing friendship with love? Had she ruined a perfect friendship? She couldn't stand feeling stupid.

Minerva rose. She made her way through the darkness toward her desk and, with a wave of her wand, lit a single candle that hovered by the adjacent wall. On the left-hand corner of her desk lay a scarlet diary. The emblem of Gryffindor House on its cover glittered in the candlelight. Minerva sat down and pulled the journal toward her. She opened the book and reread her own writing. Her neat cursive filled page after page with accounts of her days' events, questions about things that mystified her, and her deepest, most private emotions. This little book housed all of her most heartfelt feelings about Albus. Unwillingly, and perhaps unknowingly, she let a single tear roll down her cheek and splash onto the red ink that flowed across the pages.

"Why?" she whispered to no one. The word was simple, yet the question was complex. She asked this about more than one thing. A single question was actually multiple questions, which, naturally, required multiple answers. Why did Albus feel the way he did? Why did he say what he said? Minerva could ask the same questions to herself. Why did she feel so much for Albus, when he felt nothing more than friendship? Why did she say less than what she truly felt? There was no obvious explanation, and she seemed to be left without one at all.

It was too difficult to comprehend on her own, at least at a moment like this one. She wanted to understand, but she could not. She could scarcely think straight or even sort out her feelings. What did she feel anyway? She couldn't even recognize her own emotions. Was she sad, disappointed, angry? Maybe. She only knew she was confused, and that was the best she could do.

Confusion. She settled for confusion. Minerva McGonagall rarely tolerated confusion as an acceptable state, if ever. This was highly unusual for her. Minerva was not one to leave problems unsolved or questions unanswered.

She got up and finally decided to change her clothes. It was nearing midnight, and she had yet to change into a nightgown. It was not uncommon for Minerva to be up so late, but normally she would be ready for bed by this hour. However, tonight she had not been busy marking papers, writing lesson plans, or even reading a thick novel. If Minerva took the time to think about it, she would deem this night very unproductive, and such behavior was completely unacceptable. She was not bound to think about work at the moment, though. Perhaps she was too tired to care.

After putting on her usual tartan nightgown, she strode over to her bed and extinguished the sole candle with a flick of her wand. Once the room was again enveloped in darkness, she placed the wand on her bedside table and climbed into bed. She slipped into the warmth of her covers, the familiarity comforting her. Minerva positively loved getting into bed each night, for she knew that she could rest for several hours without guilt. One probably would not guess that Minerva McGonagall enjoyed sleeping, taking into account that she rose early, retired late, and never took naps. However, she enjoyed the tranquility of sleep and the thought of waking to see a new day. Minerva liked peace.

Unfortunately, tonight she could not receive enough solace from the coziness of her bed. Minerva's restless mind refused to calm down. She pulled the blankets over her head, as if they could hinder the thought process. She didn't want to think; she wanted to sleep. She wanted to sleep, sleep for a very long time, and not be bothered by any disturbing or overly optimistic dreams. If only she had a Dreamless Sleep Potion.

Minerva once again reviewed the evening's events in her mind. He wanted to act like this never happened. Of course, an awkward relationship wouldn't be good, considering they worked so closely together. He was the headmaster, and she was the deputy. Obviously they would have to be together to run the school.

But does he still want to remain such close friends? Minerva wondered. She hoped he did, knowing she would never be able to tolerate being away from him for too long. She questioned how she would feel in his presence, though. It was likely to be awkward at first, considering what she had told him, but he seemed to want to make the situation as comfortable as possible. Why, though? Why...?

She knew she wouldn't be able to figure out his reasoning tonight, but somehow she still wanted to try. She wanted to know how she could feel such strong emotions for him, while he didn't feel it at all.

He had even said that nothing is there...

"How can he honestly think that?" Minerva asked aloud, letting silent tears flow onto her pillow.

---

This is the last story I've written, but I have some unfinished pieces that I'd like to complete, so I'm sharing this one while I work on others. Please let me know what you think so far! Thanks!

[fallingmoon]

I like it a lot. Poor Min. Update soon!!!

[micha]

Oh my, what was he thinking?? I need to know!!

[gahhMinerva]

Jul 19, 2008 10:14:11 GMT -5 micha said:

Oh my, what was he thinking?? I need to know!!

Aww, you don't get to learn much of what he thinks until the last couple chapters! -evil grin- (I've considered writing this same story from Albus's perspective, but it would take so long!)

Anyway, thank you for your comments, guys, and here's Chapter 2!

Chapter 2: Collision

Surprisingly, Minerva slept unusually well. Her night was actually quite peaceful, maybe even more so than most recent ones. Her slumber was not interrupted by sporadic awakenings at ungodly hours, such as quarter of four or half past one. Waking rather well-rested, Minerva almost wondered why she had trouble getting to sleep.

Almost.

The memory raced back to her instantly. The energy she should have had drained completely out of her. She suddenly wasn't looking forward to breakfast. Albus would be there, seated in the headmaster's chair, which of course was next to hers. She wasn't sure how she would react upon seeing Albus. Certainly it would be awkward, which was not exactly how she preferred to start the day.

Looking at the clock, she saw that it was 6:37. Breakfast officially began at 6 o’ clock, actually, but it was a rare day when anybody arrived for it before 7. Even Minerva, an early riser, waited to head down to the Great Hall for breakfast. She generally enjoyed the company of her colleagues, and the morning chatter of the students had a comforting affect on her. Without a doubt, she favored their breakfast talk in comparison to that from lunch or dinner; the majority of them were much calmer in the morning. Perhaps it was because teenagers did not fully “wake up” until the afternoon. No matter the reason, dinners and lunches in the Great Hall were always significantly louder than breakfasts, and Minerva definitely preferred the latter. Today was no different.

I need this. If anything will help me feel normal, it would be a typical day at Hogwarts, she reasoned. Consistency was a good thing. One major blow to her emotional mindset should not cause her life to rearrange. He even told me to pretend nothing happened, and so, I will. Things may change, but that should not faze me. She figured a bit of optimistic thinking would be beneficial to her.

Then he was there. The moment she arrived in the Great Hall, she saw him, sitting in his prominent chair at the staff table. She didn’t expect him not to be, as it was his habit to be one the first there. On the other hand, she couldn’t expect that, upon laying eyes upon him, the pang her heart felt would stop her dead at the door. He was chatting merrily and eating heartily, and, even with the distance, she could see his eyes twinkle. After just breaking her heart, they could still twinkle.

Like it never happened...

Quickly, Minerva regained her composure. Returned was the customary thin-lipped expression, to top off the rest of her trademark appearance: heavy emerald-green robes, practical black leather low-heeled boots, and raven hair pulled back into a tight, severe bun. A speedy glance around the room told her that nobody had noticed her momentarily hurt expression. Without a sound, she strode up to the table and took her seat. She spoke to no one and began to eat in silence, as she didn’t exactly want to attract Albus’s attention. It was unclear what her response to him would be, and she so she tried to avoid the risk of saying something stupid or private in front of him and the rest of the staff. Initiating a conversation with Albus might make her appear desperate, which she assured herself she was not.

Of course she couldn’t go through an entire meal without somebody speaking to her. She wasn’t reclusive like Professor Trelawney, who usually didn’t come out of the North Tower anyway, or aloof, as Professor Snape was sometimes seen. Her colleagues enjoyed speaking to her, for she was witty both knowledgably and humorously. While gingerly spreading butter onto a slice of toast, Albus turned to her.

“Good morning,” he said gently.

“Hello,” Minerva said tersely, refusing to look at him. She wasn’t sure she could handle to see his eyes, twinkling or not. They hurt her either way.

“I didn’t see you come in,” he continued the in the same tone.

“I didn’t see you come in either,” she briskly replied, being much too stubborn to allow him to melt her.

Albus chuckled half-heartedly at her clever remark, but ceased quickly. Obviously Minerva was in no mood for laughter, as she was fiercely buttering the same piece of toast. He gave up. Perhaps he realized that Minerva was not in a mood for chit-chat, or maybe she simply didn’t want to speak to him. He was smart enough not to irritate her when she was in poor humor. Minerva could see him with the corner of her eye as he turned back to his remaining scrambled eggs.

She sighed inwardly. Her intention wasn’t to be rude to Albus, but her severe exterior was the only shield she knew. She didn’t want him to so easily get through to her. Did he know that his slender fingers still tugged at her heartstrings with every word he spoke? He probably didn’t, and for now, that’s how she wished it to remain.

After consuming her butter-saturated toast along with the rest of her breakfast, Minerva took a swig of orange juice. Without a word to anybody else, she made a swift and silent exit. She headed straight for her office, where she knew she could be alone until her first class. She encountered no one along the way, and quickly shut the office door behind her upon entering. She clutched her hand to her chest. Her heart felt awfully compressed, as if it were being squeezed.

Albus, she thought and shook her head quickly. She wanted to tell herself he wasn’t getting to her, but that would be a downright lie. Damn emotions! They’re too irrational, and I can’t even control them. She swept behind her desk and took the chair, determined to move her mind to something more logical. A stack of parchment rested on the corner of her desk. Grading was on the agenda.

“‘Switching Spells, by Laura O’Brien,’” she read aloud. At least some things remain constantly comforting, she thought, dipping her quill in red ink, ready to begin.

Half an hour later and half a pile marked, Minerva rose. Snatching a few items from her desk, she journeyed toward the Transfiguration classroom, trying to busy her mind with anything but Albus. Turning a corner along the way, she collided with Professor Sprout, who was carrying a potted plant with enormous leaves. Fortunately, nothing crashed to the floor.

“Do try to be more careful, Pomona!” Minerva said, more brusquely than intended, brushing some dirt off her sleeve. A bit of soil had popped out upon the impact.

“Oh – sorry, Minerva,” Professor Sprout apologized, poking her head around the numerous leaves. “I didn’t see you.”

“I thought as much.”

Professor Sprout nodded. Then she suddenly scrunched her face in thought.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Of course I am,” Minerva said, the sharp edge on her voice fading. “I only walked into you.”

Professor Sprout paused a moment before responding.

“That’s not what I meant,” she said. “You’re rather distant today and – shall I say? – a bit cold. I know it is still morning, but even with Dumbledore… Minerva, I overheard you talking to him, and I don’t think you’ve ever been like that with him. Has something happened between you two?”

Minerva stared.

“I’m asking as your friend, Minerva. There are ten minutes before any classes start. I understand if you don’t want to talk about it… but I advise that you do,” Professor Sprout said earnestly.

Minerva’s expression softened ever so slightly. She debated whether she should talk about it with someone. It had been less than a day, so what was the rush? Albus was constantly on her mind, but she couldn’t expect him not to be.

“…Not now,” she responded vaguely.

I felt so much for him, and he turned me down. Of course I should hurt, but I can’t let him know that, she thought. But what about Pomona? She’s one of my closest friends; I suppose she deserves to know. But no, I definitely can’t tell her right now.

She couldn’t explain everything right before her first lesson. What if she lost control and broke down? The students would be filing out of their common rooms into the corridors any minute now. This was neither the time nor the place.

“Is that a promise for later?”

“Perhaps,” she said, using her preferred neutral response. Minerva scarcely had her own time to think about it, and Pomona expected her to share what had happened. Part of her wanted to confide in someone, but the other, much larger, part told her to keep to herself. That side of her strongly urged her to stay quiet, reminding her of what happened the night before, the last time she shared her innermost feelings. Yet, still, Pomona was her best friend.

“How about this weekend, Min?” Pomona suggested, sensing that Minerva wasn’t sure right now.

“Fine,” Minerva accepted resignedly.

“Good, then, this weekend it is. Saturday?”

“All right,” she answered indifferently, slightly shrugging her shoulders. “Look, I’ll see you at lunch. I’ve got to get to my classroom.”

Professor Sprout nodded and said, “Until then.” She walked around Minerva, carrying her plant, and the two went their separate directions.

---

Hope you're enjoying it, and thanks to those of you who commented the last chapter!

[fallingmoon]

I just have one thing to say: excellent. I'll be waiting for an update.

[micha]

Oh, can you believe my heart is really hurting, too ...my dearest Minerva - I hate to see her suffer (and read it anyway, now how do I account for that? )

[gahhMinerva]

Chapter 3: Messages

Lunch and dinner had been the same, the same as each other, at least. Minerva stole several glances at Albus, and once, she caught his eyes. Quickly, she looked away, of course. She didn’t dare speak. Already she had regretted being bitter toward him that morning. He was attempting to be kind, like he always was, and how did she respond? With acid, she returned with acid.

Minerva wasn’t truly angry with Albus. Again, it was her frosty exterior blasting to the surface, serving its sole purpose as a mask. It chilled her to know that she could be so cold, especially toward Albus. He was one of the few people who saw her for who she really was. Yet here she was, suddenly blocking his entrance into her soul. Albus Dumbledore always had a way to warm her heart – anyone’s heart, really – and she built a wall to thwart him. This wasn’t how she wanted to act.

A tawny owl flew up to the window of Minerva’s bedroom, tapping to gain entrance. Minerva looked in its direction and made her way to let it inside. She recognized it immediately as one of the school’s owls. A simple scroll of parchment was tied to its leg, which she carefully detached. She broke off a bit of a ginger newt and offered it to the owl. It accepted graciously and away it went, soaring out the window into the evening sky.

Minerva grabbed a ginger newt for herself and curled up in her favorite chair to read her letter. She nibbled the end of the cookie as she unrolled the parchment, and as soon as her eyes fell upon the writing, she knew who had sent it.

Minerva,

Are we still holding our nightly chess matches?

If not, I understand. Don’t worry about sending a note; a simple appearance or lack of one will tell me the answer.

Sincerely,
Albus

Minerva’s breath had caught in her throat upon reading. He asked such a simple question, such a simple request. Even after she had given him the cold shoulder all day, he still wanted to spend the evening with her. He had some nerve though; one night after crushing her romantic dreams flat, he asked to her to visit.

It seems he sincerely wants to pretend nothing happened… to remain friends, she thought wistfully, sighing. She had to admit that she wished to keep their strong friendship. She could clearly recall how fearful she was of confessing her love to Albus – certainly the loss of friendship was the most frightening risk. He was the closest person to her. She didn’t want to their relationship to go down the drain, and turning down this offer might help cause that.

Reluctantly, Minerva decided to accept his proposition. Surely she was upset about what happened, but she was not exactly upset with him. He must have had his reasons. Albus was probably making the best decision for himself, and she couldn’t argue with that. He always did so much for others, and rarely did he ever seem to do anything for himself. Perhaps he was even looking out for her. Why give her false hope and lead her on? Albus always had pure intentions. She trusted that he had made the right choice for himself. Of course I’d like it to be different...

Things weren’t different, so any logical person would be compelled to try to accept the way life was. This was the contradiction. Minerva McGonagall was an extraordinarily logical and sensible person, yet she let the emotions take over. She always dreamed of the day when Albus Dumbledore would return her love, although he was more than twice her age. Even now, she hoped he would tell her that he had made a mistake, that he had no idea what he was saying, that he truly did love her. She hoped for such far-fetched ideas that he was trying to use reverse-psychology on her – to make her believe he didn’t love her, only so she’d love him more… and then he’d confess his true feelings. Curious how the effects of love could drive even the most realistic person into a fantasy world.

Sighing, Minerva slipped her feet into her shoes and made her way to the door. Just as she was about to push the portrait open, she stopped. Was she making a good decision?

I suppose the best thing to do is restore my friendship with him. What else do I have? I’ll settle for friendship, she resolved. I could not bear to live without him anyway. Assuring herself that this was the best thing she could do, she pushed the portrait of Godric Gryffindor ajar. Descending the winding stone staircase, she stopped suddenly. She stood hesitantly on the stairs, debating with herself. It is too soon. Merlin, it has been less than one day! No, it is not urgent that I see Albus. I cannot let him strengthen his grip on me. I should return to my rooms. There she turned sharply and began to climb back up the stairs, only to continue to argue with herself.


“Oh, for Heaven’s sake, Minerva!” she muttered and scolded herself for being so indecisive. She had always been able to easily make up her mind. Scowling, she marched down the stairwell, forcing herself to continue with her original choice.

Finally, she completed the journey to the stone gargoyle, but not without quarreling in her mind. When she became this unsure of herself, she didn’t know. Now that this level of uncertainty manifested itself, she was quite irritated with herself.

She pushed these thoughts aside as she ascended the elevating staircase. Now was not the time to dwell on her psychological issues. She had to concentrate on fixing her friendship with Albus and forgetting all of her romantic feelings for him. That was the utmost priority at the moment. She knocked thrice on the door, and it opened automatically.

Albus Dumbledore looked up from his seat behind the desk and set aside his work. He offered a weak smile, very unlike his customary toothy grins. There was a foreign expression in his clear blue eyes, one that Minerva could not quite interpret. He seemed to be treading carefully in this delicate situation, striving to repair the friendship.

“Good evening,” he said gently.

Minerva hesitated outside the door. Although Albus was being welcoming, she felt wary about going into the room. She associated it with heartbreak, heartache, and such unpleasant feelings.

“You may come in, Minerva,” Dumbledore added after several moments when Minerva still did not enter.

“Right…of course,” she answered awkwardly and stepped across the threshold. She took a seat across from Dumbledore, as she had done every night for the past several years. She had tried to have an ordinary day at Hogwarts, and this visit to Albus was certainly typical. Perhaps if she kept to her usual routine, everything would return to normal – their friendship, her state of mind.

For now, a silence fell between them. Minerva avoided his eyes. They looked so uncharacteristically melancholy and she didn’t like that. However, when she caught a glimpse of his face, she noticed a hopeful glimmer in those limpid pools of blue. She could easily tell that he also wished for normalcy to be restored.

“I’ll – I’ll get the chessboard, I suppose,” Albus said, rising. He swept over to a bookshelf against the wall, where he kept various items. One shelf housed an old set of wizarding encyclopedias; another held several whirring and spinning silver objects. The center portion was dedicated to numerous photographs, and, in the middle of all the pictures, laid the much-used chessboard.

“Then I’ll clear a space on your cluttered desk,” Minerva said in response, organizing the chaos of letters, notes, books, and parchment. She smiled unconsciously as she cleaned up the mess. How he managed to find anything on his desk, she didn’t know. She gathered several papers from the Ministry and stacked them neatly. After tidying the majority of his desktop, she managed to uncover his favorite crimson quill, a package of lemon drops (“Ah! I was looking for those!” Albus exclaimed), and the latest issue of Modern Magical Alchemy.

Albus came back and placed the board down. He smiled, obviously delighted at the effort Minerva put into organizing his desk.

“Thank you, Minerva. You always seemed to have a natural ability to tidy any mess in a second. What would I do without you?”

Minerva grinned coyly. Albus was one of the few who could make her blush. She loved when he complimented her. She was especially glad that the uneasiness had passed so quickly. There was no way she could have held a grudge against Albus, yet she was still surprised at how quickly things seemed to have fallen into place.

“You’d be searching for hours simply to find your bags of candy,” she said, and Albus chuckled.

“I must thank you doubly for that. I haven’t had a lemon drop all day,” he said, putting on a glum face. He offered her one, which she politely declined. “Is there anything you would like? A cup of tea, perhaps?”

“Tea would be lovely,” Minerva said, pleased with the way he always knew what she liked.

“Right away, then,” Albus said, conjuring a cup of tea for her and a mug of hot chocolate for himself. “Here you are, Minerva.”

“Thank you,” she said and took a sip. “Mmm. Yes, thank you, Albus.”

“You’re very welcome,” he said. “Shall we begin?” He motioned toward the chessboard.

Minerva nodded.

“White moves first,” she said, and the game commenced.

The nighttime hours passed quickly. During the game, the mood was light, even with the intense strategizing between turns. Conversation flowed freely, just as it always did with this dynamic duo. Grins were glued onto their faces the entire evening. It really was like nothing ever happened. The atmosphere was so comfortable and familiar that Minerva didn’t even think about the previous night. The whole time she spent with him, the memory was nowhere near crossing her mind. Albus somehow always managed to make Minerva feel at ease, even content with herself – a rare feeling for her, since she was a bit of a perfectionist. Everything was just… right.

“Checkmate,” Albus said simply, after making the final move with his bishop. “I do believe the score is even now, Minerva.” His eyes twinkled playfully.

“Indeed,” Minerva said, conceding defeat to the man. “But I’ll win next time, Albus; don’t you worry.”

“Ah, it won’t be so easy, Minerva! This barmy old codger still has a few tricks up his robes sleeve.”

Minerva raised her eyebrows skeptically.

“We’ll see.” She rose from her chair and stretched felinely. Merlin, she had been sitting a while. She glanced at the clock. “Oh dear, it’s nearly midnight! Tell me, Albus, how did we manage to play chess for five hours?”

Albus hummed thoughtfully.

“The answer is beyond me, Minerva, although I must admit that I had a very tough and clever competitor tonight. I daresay this was one of our best matches yet, very well-played, by both sides….”

“Because you won,” Minerva snorted. “That’s why you think that. I will agree that it was the longest in a while.” She rolled her eyes.

“Perhaps that’s part of my reasoning,” he murmured quickly, and Minerva laughed.

“You silly old man.” She shook her head. “Well, I suppose I’d better go. It’s rather late, or early, depending on how you think about it. Good night, Albus.”

“Good night.”

Minerva smiled and slipped out the door, feeling the same high she typically got when she was with Albus. The small tranquil smile remained on her lips as she traveled back to her private quarters. She rounded several corners and walked down many corridors, all in relative darkness, the trip very similar to the previous night’s. Slipping swiftly through the shadows, her smile gradually faded, as those recollections slowly leaked into her current thoughts. Why did she have to dwell on this? Just because he had that way of filling her with joy, just because he made her feel appreciated, just because he was her closest friend, just because she cared about him so much, just because she wanted to give her love to him…

“Percival Wulfric Brian,” she mumbled to the guard portrait.

“Right you are!” Godric Gryffindor exclaimed all too energetically. His frame swung on its hinges to allow Minerva to pass.

“Did you think I wouldn’t be?” she muttered under her breath as she stepped through the large opening. She kicked off her shoes and tossed her hat on the hat rack upon entering the room. She allowed herself to collapse onto her bed, and she stared at the ceiling, as her heart and mind battled each other. Both fired out messages to try to win over Minerva.

Love him… give it up… wait for him… move on… he’s worth it… forget it… you know you care about him… Her mind was suddenly very angry at the heart’s mention of knowledge. Knowing was for the brain, and it was the heart’s current enemy. How dare her heart put thoughts in her mind!

“Merlin, make it stop…” she grumbled, rolling over, clutching a pillow, and wondering why love had to be so irrational.

---

Thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed so far.

[fallingmoon]

Poor Min. *Gives Min a hug* Please continue. This is very very good.

[gahhMinerva]

Chapter 4: The Unexpected Guest

Minerva McGonagall tossed and turned throughout the night. Sleep seemed too far from reach. Her restless mind and sporadic thoughts allowed for little shuteye tonight. She sighed and glanced at the glowing clock on the wall.

Scarcely past three, she vaguely distinguished. Her lack of glasses provided a blurred image of the clock hands. At this stage in her life, though, she was an expert in reading the time with only limited visibility. She had acquired this skill through countless nights similar to this one. So many nights she spent simply thinking, musing over the things she had to do, the people she had to see, or just pondering about life in general.

Tonight was the no different. She lay in bed, sometimes staring at the darkness, sometimes at the backs of her eyelids. Either way, she couldn’t see much. The only things she could make out were the gleaming clock hands and the images in her head. She saw Albus. All she saw was Albus. What was wrong with her? Why did her thoughts always revert to him?

She wrapped the covers more tightly around her body and rolled over. She knew the answer to the question. It was obvious. Albus had already captured her heart, and it seemed he had stolen it. It hadn’t been long, but Minerva knew. Minerva knew the void within her would only grow. No matter how much time she spent with him, they would always have to part. She would become empty unless he filled the hole with love, or she moved on. She had gotten herself into some pickle. One option she could hardly control, and the other she could not control at all. Powerless is how she felt.

Minerva adjusted her position again. Later she would be talking to Pomona. What was she going to say to her? She didn’t feel much like talking to anybody. She didn’t feel the need to share her personal thoughts about the Albus situation. Logically, she knew she probably should not keep her emotions bottled inside, but logic didn’t seem to work very well for issues of the heart. In addition, Minerva was usually a private person. Did Pomona honestly expect her to disclose her secret emotions?

Yes, Minerva thought. The two of you are friends, Min. Apparently friendship meant she was obligated to reveal personal information.

She pulled the tartan blanket over her head shut her eyes tightly, as if that would induce sleep. She had a problem. She was well-liked by her peers and colleagues, and she easily made friends, but she never wanted to get close to anybody. She always wanted to keep a comfortable distance from others, which sometimes her friends didn’t understand. She felt uneasy about confiding in most people – everyone really.

Except Albus. Her brain returned to thoughts of Albus once again. This circle continued endlessly until, finally, sleep overcame her.

---

A loud thumping noise could be heard in the distance. It was quite disturbing to a person attempting to sleep. Someone was hammering on Minerva McGonagall’s door.

Who in their right mind is doing Muggle construction at this hour? Minerva wondered grumpily, smothering her head with the pillow. It was too early to do anything, even in Minerva’s opinion. It couldn’t be anywhere past five in the morning.

This person was actually pounding on the portrait of Godric Gryffindor, which was quite rude in the opinion of the picture's subject. The vague sound of the brave school founder's arguments could be heard even within Minerva's bedroom. Somebody was obviously trying and failing to enter Minerva's private chambers.

"Just let me in, you dead codger!" the knocker screamed.

"Without the password, you may not enter! It is my duty to protect these rooms from intruders like you!” Gryffindor exclaimed firmly.

What is Rolanda doing here? Minerva asked herself, trying to imagine why she needed to get into her rooms so badly. And at this hour, Rolanda is not exactly an early riser.

Still, Rolanda Hooch persisted. Her shouts rang through the walls.

"Look, it's noon, and Professor McGonagall has yet to be seen by anyone anywhere in the castle. Will you just let me in to see what's wrong with her?"

Noon!

"How is it noon already?" Minerva muttered in bewilderment. She never woke in a P.M. hour. This was entirely unacceptable by Minerva McGonagall standards. She scrambled out of bed in a panic, threw on her robes from yesterday, not bothering to smooth them down, and rushed to let Rolanda enter. She could hear another voice as she popped the portrait open.

"Rolanda, will you just stop yelling? We can just tell Dumbledore—"

Dumbledore, Minerva thought singularly, oblivious to her guests’ surprised expressions.

"Minerva!" the second voice exclaimed.

She blinked rapidly.

"...Hello," she answered dreamily, entranced by her sudden thoughts of Albus.

"Did you Silence your room or something? Pomona and I have been shouting at your portrait for the past ten minutes," Rolanda said, irritated.

"Have you?" Minerva responded faintly, looking from Rolanda Hooch to Pomona Sprout and back. She snapped out of her Dumbledore-daydream and felt perplexed as to why they were at her door.

"Yes! Minerva, what is wrong with you? You look like you just rolled out of bed," Hooch said bluntly. She had obviously taken in her disheveled appearance.

"Thank you, Rolanda," Minerva replied tartly, although Rolanda had hit the nail right on the head. She literally did just roll out of bed, but Rolanda didn’t have to mention it. “Why are you here?”

Rolanda eyed Minerva strangely. One moment she was lost in some distant dream, and the next she was curt and caustic.

"Sit down," she commanded to her host. She brushed swiftly past Minerva, grabbed a straight-backed chair from the sitting room desk, and sat in it backwardly.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Minerva said from the door, where both she and Professor Sprout were still standing. She heard Professor Sprout sigh, and then Pomona promptly responded.

“Well, you weren’t at breakfast, which is unusual to start, and nobody else has seen you today. Personally, I was concerned. No one knew where you were, Minerva, so we came looking for you,” she explained. “Anyway, you promised we’d have a friend-to-friend talking-to today, and here we are! Come on, Min, sit down and we can chat.” She squeezed past Minerva and took a seat on the small crimson sofa near Madam Hooch.

Minerva gawked at her friends and strongly had the urge to splutter stupidly. Indeed she had promised to talk to Professor Sprout, but absolutely nothing about Madam Hooch was incorporated in the agreement. Seriously, how could Pomona do that? Certainly Madam Hooch was one of Minerva’s friends, but that did not mean she had to be included of this sort of heart-to-heart. Minerva had consented to reveal her feelings about her private life to one person, but not to two. This was a very irksome thing Pomona did, and Minerva was not happy.

She sighed inwardly. There was no way out of this. She could not justify her unhappiness without offending Rolanda. Finally, she acquiesced to Pomona’s instruction to sit down and talk.

After shutting the opening to her rooms, she slowly swept over to a scarlet armchair. It was much squashier than Minerva’s normal tastes, but it had once been Albus’s when he lived in these rooms, and he had insisted that she keep it for the times he would come to visit her. She knew just how much he valued comfort, so she kept it for him. It matched the décor anyway.

She stared from friend to friend for what seemed like several minutes. What was she supposed to say? She knew she had to tell them something about her feelings toward Albus, but where to begin? She didn’t know how to start.

“Minerva?” Pomona called gently, effacing the silence.

“…What do you want me to say?” Minerva asked quietly. “I… I don’t know where to begin.”

“The beginning, Min,” Rolanda said brusquely.

“That is not helpful, and you know it, Rolanda,” Minerva said irritably, scowling and glowering at Rolanda. Really, she was never even invited. She could at least be polite.

“Start wherever you deem it necessary,” Professor Sprout suggested, but not before shooting a reprimanding glance toward Rolanda.

If I knew where I ‘deemed it necessary’, I wouldn’t have asked the question, Minerva thought impatiently. She sighed inside again and closed her eyes. Where to begin, where to begin…? She opened her eyes.

“Well… the both of you know the feelings I’ve held for Albus, right?” she began slowly, and her two listeners nodded. “It’s not quite a secret anymore. Thursday night I… I told him.” She took a sharp intake of breath and waited for a response.

You told him, you told him, you told him, Minerva! Why on Earth did you tell him? You knew he wouldn’t feel the same. He’s decades older than you are! He’s a very famous man! He’s your boss, for Heaven’s sake! The yelling in her head was back, and suddenly, she found herself choking back a sob.

Damn it! What the Hell! she thought angrily. She felt about to cry with no warning, and for no real reason. She unwaveringly fought back the uncalled-for tears. Fortunately, neither Pomona nor Rolanda seemed to notice. She straightened her posture and regained her composure.

“What happened, Min? What did he say?” Pomona urged.

“‘Nothing is there,’” she said wistfully. That was all she needed to say. The point was clear: He didn’t feel anything for her.

“Oh dear,” Pomona murmured, and she seemed not to know what to say. “Are you all right, Minerva?”

Evidently this time Minerva had failed to keep up her façade. The sad truth must have lain in her eyes, as she was positive she had kept a rigid appearance. Some say that eyes are the windows to the soul, and it seemed an accurate statement. Often, try as she might, she could not control the emotions conveyed in her eyes. Her luminous green eyes were, contrary to the rest of her, very expressive.

“Yes, of course,” Minerva said softly, yet resolutely. She knew she wasn’t all right, but for some reason, she felt she had to lie to her friends. It wasn’t that she was trying to be deceitful; she just didn’t want to look fragile. The idea that she, Minerva McGonagall, was fragile – that was not something she wished to be believed.

A silence fell among the three women. Minerva took fleeting glances at her friends, but for the most part, she kept her eyes low. Professor Sprout gazed concernedly at Minerva but eventually looked away. Madam Hooch’s hawk-like eyes darted from person to person.

“Well, if that’s that,” Rolanda interjected abruptly, “then move on! Give him up! He’s ancient, and he’s your boss anyway. You weren’t expecting much, right?”

“Rolanda!” Pomona hissed through her teeth, aiming a sideways glare at the flying instructor.

Minerva was appalled. Rolanda was being positively obnoxious! She could have sworn Rolanda had more respect than this. She looked daggers at Rolanda and frowned. She fought the impulse to hex her ruthlessly, although that wasn’t really necessary, considering she didn’t have her wand at hand.

Why in Merlin’s name did Pomona bring her along? Minerva wondered, feeling a headache coming on. She really wanted to be alone now. I most certainly did not give any indication that I wished for her to bring company. Still, Rolanda is not in any way justified to act the way she has. She sighed openly.

“Please, please go,” she said firmly, yet nearly inaudibly.

“All right, Min,” Pomona said, rising slowly. “See you at dinner.” She ushered Rolanda out of the room and swung the portrait shut behind them.

Minerva slumped in the chair, actually allowing herself poor posture. She pressed her fingers to her right temple and let out a relieved breath. Finally, for the first time today, she had achieved a tranquil silence. Slouching in the squashy armchair, she purposefully blocked out all unproductive thoughts and pondered how she would possibly make up for the half a day she had wasted.

[fallingmoon]

You're really good with updating. Yay! I'm really enjoying this story!

[esoterica1693]

I'm enjoying this one. Poor Minerva!

[micha]

Thanks for the update! Now, that was a helpful talk with the "girls" Good grievance...I'd thrown them out of the window

[blackmagic]

I generally find the angsty fic would've suited me better about ten years ago - when I was in my teens - but I like this one. I like the way you see Minerva. She is very relatable... at least she is to me.

[Minerva577]

I agree with micha, but I suppose it wouldn't be a sensible thing to do. [sigh to bad, I would have enjoyed that]

[gahhMinerva]

Thanks to everyone who has commented so far! I'm always glad to receive feedback from readers. To blackmagic, I kind of felt the same way when I was in the middle of writing this - I started writing this when I was 15, at a time when I was rather unhappy, to say the least, about a certain unrequited love, but several months later, it was hard to capture the same emotion that I had when I began. I had written two chapters that were supposed to be the final two, but when I finally reached that point, what happened to lead up to it caused them not to make sense anymore, so I had to write brand new chapters to finish!

Now here is the next installment of Fallen Lioness! I am trying to post the next chapters regularly as I progress with a shorter fic I began writing over a year ago. But if anyone really wants to read the rest for some reason, it is complete at fanfiction.net (my username is the same).

---

Chapter 5: Days and Time

Minerva scratched away feverishly at foot after foot of parchment. She was so far behind! Too many things had to be read, marked, written; there were simply too many things to do. This wouldn’t have been a problem if she hadn’t slept late, though. She was angry at herself for allowing such a thing to happen. Now she had to work more than twice as quickly as she normally did in order to keep up with her grading schedule. There was absolutely no time to waste, not a second to spare.

If I work through dinner, I can get this done, Minerva thought. Then I may even have time for the nightly chess match.

Minerva’s judgment made no sense at all. She would skip the only meal of the day she could attend in order to finish work, when she could miss a game of chess to complete the work instead. In her mad rush to get through this stack of essays, she was utterly negligent of her health. Surprisingly, though, she wasn’t very hungry at the moment, even though it had been nearly twenty-four hours since she last ate. Her lack of an appetite explained this way of thinking.

However, dinner came and went, and her work remained unfinished. It was nearing seven o’ clock, the usual time she met Albus for chess. Her heart longed for her to get up from her chair and see him, but her head strictly kept her in place. Then she thought of something, something that would, at least for a moment, satisfy her dear little heart: She had to inform Albus that she would not be coming to his office. Fire-calling would be the best option. She stood up and swept into her sitting room.

“Incendio,” she murmured, pointing her wand into the fireplace. She grabbed a handful of Floo powder, tossed it into the roaring flame, and called, “Albus Dumbledore! May I speak to you for a minute?”

Within a few seconds, Albus’s head appeared in the fire.

“Minerva! Good evening, it is nice to finally see you today,” he said after carefully stepping out of the fireplace. “You wanted to speak to me?”

“Yes, that’s right. I wanted to tell you that I won’t be able to play chess with you tonight.”

Only because I slept late, she thought, unhappy with herself.

“I haven’t seen you all day. Is everything all right?” he asked with a hint of disappointment and concern in his eyes, which were quickly scanning her up and down. He probably was taking in her still unkempt appearance. “Are you ill?”

“Oh no, I’m fine, Albus. I just have a lot of work to do,” she explained.

“Truthfully, Minerva? You haven’t been to any meals today,” he persisted. Minerva frowned fleetingly and thought quickly on her feet.

“Er, I had a house-elf bring up some things for me today,” she lied. Honestly, she hadn’t eaten a thing all day, but she didn’t want to worry Albus. It wasn’t that big a deal anyway. In previous times when she was exceptionally busy, she had found herself a bit deprived of food. She always managed. Working through one day – or half a day, rather – on an empty stomach was not a major issue.

“Oh. Well, all right, then.” He paused for a moment. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to take a break?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I really have to get this work done,” she said firmly, brushing off all thoughts that tempted her to procrastinate.

“If you’re sure, Minerva,” he said. “Good night.”

“Good night, Albus.”

He turned toward the fire and disappeared in the flames. The instant he was gone, Minerva’s stomach grumbled, pleading for food. Although relieved that it held out until Albus left, she ignored it and returned to her desk. There was no time to stop and get a meal. Work was more important at the moment. Perhaps she could have eaten properly if she had not overslept, but she had, so now she needed to make up for that.

She returned to her desk and immediately resumed what she was doing. If she didn’t return these tests to the seventh year N.E.W.T. students soon, they might mentally go insane. She knew what it was like to take an important test and have to wait even one extra day to receive the score – it was practically torture. These were highly motivated students who were itching to know how they did, praying to a higher being that they did well. She had promised them that she would give them back on Monday, and she had promised herself that she’d finish marking them on Saturday. Now Saturday was winding to its end. She quickened her pace but was still quite meticulous with the grading.

The moon had long been resting in the velvet sky, its light shining through the cold February air and through Minerva’s window in Gryffindor Tower, softly illuminating the room. With that and the few iridescent flames of candles, all was quiet and peaceful, save the frazzled woman. Minerva would have loved to enjoy the sheer serenity of her room at the moment, if only she could stop working. Alas, no matter how much she would rather be reading a good novel and munching on ginger newts, she had to finish her work instead. Sleeping late was such a villain to her today.

Finally, she completed the pile of seventh year papers, but there was still a substantial amount of work left. This time she chose to mark some first year homework assignments. First year homework was often a challenge because the eleven- and twelve-year-olds could never seem to spell Transfiguration terms properly. After all of her years of teaching, she was still baffled as to why this was a problem. She was positive that they used their textbooks to help them write their essays, so shouldn’t they have the correct spelling? She frowned as she came across the misspelling “incantation.” This particular student was lucky that scoring was based on content, not spelling.

The hours slipped away while Minerva strived resolutely to complete the day’s worth of grading. Desperately she fought her drooping eyelids and stifled yawn after yawn. There was only one short stack of fourth year assignments to mark. She had to finish this.

Only twenty more… Minerva thought, struggling not to doze off. She wondered why she was already so tired, considering she had slept an extra five or six hours. Perhaps working nonstop for eleven hours and without eating a thing for over a day had something to do with it. Just one more class’s worth…

Inevitably, her willpower lost to her drained body, and she fell asleep at her desk, quill still in hand.



After much elapsed time, Minerva McGonagall cracked open her eyes. She was slumped in her chair with her head bowed, and her arms had dropped to her sides. She rubbed her aching neck as she tried to recall what she was doing. The glimmer of the candlelight scattered over her desk, and Minerva’s eyes fell onto the sheet of parchment in the center.

Abigail Rose…? she read at the top of the page. She is a fourth year Gryffindor. This is… It had dawned on her – her marking was not done! She fumbled around her desk for her quill before realizing that it had floated down to the floor. Quickly she snatched it and made haste to complete the task.

The clock on the wall meowed once, indicating that it was one o’ clock. She had not slept long in the straight-backed chair, but she ached from being in such an uncomfortable position for an extended period of time. Though determined to finally bring Saturday’s grading to an end, she actually wished to curl up in her bed under the cozy covers and sleep, guilt-free.

At last, the unmarked piles from Saturday were transferred to the graded stacks. Feeling both relieved that she could go to bed and annoyed that it had taken her part of Sunday to finish, Minerva rose to change her clothing. To her, it felt so wonderful to get out of the bulky green work robe that she had practically been wearing nonstop ever since Friday morning. She slipped into her nightgown and approached her bed, fully prepared to slide under its inviting sheets and drift into a peaceful slumber. After removing her square spectacles, she climbed into her welcoming bed and surrounded herself with warm blankets.

Six hours until I have to get up again. She snuggled her head into the pillow and mulled over the past day. Most of it was spent sleeping or working, but the remaining gap was spent talking to Professor Sprout and Madam Hooch. That was a bit of a nightmare. Pomona had brought with her an unpleasant surprise, namely, an insufferable Rolanda Hooch.

‘You weren’t expecting much, right?’ Her words echoed throughout Minerva’s skull. Of all the other things that Rolanda had said, that had to be the worst. Was she always that ignorant of others’ feelings?

How could I not have expected anything? I would not have gambled my friendship with Albus if I did not think that the reward was greater than the risk. Minerva scowled bitterly. She probably just doesn’t believe in love.

“Yes, I do love the man!” Minerva screamed to no one, the loudness muffled by her pillow. She rolled quickly onto her back and breathed heavily, staring through the darkness at the ceiling above her. That felt good; oddly, that felt good.

“I love him,” she continued in a whisper. “I love him… and I don’t care if anyone thinks otherwise. I love him… when I should not.” She let a single tear glide down her cheek.

I felt so happy, thinking there was a possibility of love between us, she thought reflectively. I want to hold on to these feelings, but I probably should not. Merlin, it is not easy to let go of something if it makes you happy! It is difficult to let go of it if it gave you hope. I felt like… like my life was finally beginning to have an actual meaning… I looked for love for so long, and I thought it was right there in front of me. Evidently it was not. I should move on, but, Merlin, I feel like I am setting my purpose free.

[fallingmoon]

Brilliant as ever!! Nice job

[gahhMinerva]

Thanks for the comments so far.

Chapter 6: Bludgers

It was late after another stressful week at Hogwarts. The velvety sky was littered with glowing stars, and the moon shone with all its might, illuminating the entirety of the grounds of Hogwarts. It had been a while since Minerva McGonagall had been out so late. The time was well past midnight, and here she was, soaring about the Quidditch pitch.

Stress relief. That was the sole reason she was outside at such an hour, flying on her trusty Cleansweep. In her right hand was a Beater’s bat which she had taken from the equipment closet. For the past half hour or so, she had been swinging and swiping at a couple of Bludgers. She had charmed the wild balls to stay within the boundaries of the pitch and to stay a safe distance away from injuring her. With an utterly serious look on her face, she smashed one of the Bludgers to the ground, only for it to zoom back up to receive for another beating.

Playing Beater was easily Minerva’s favorite method of letting out steam. She felt free as she flew around the stadium, and sending violent blows to objects was understandably a stress-reliever, just as one might make use of a punching bag or scream into a pillow. She generally only took advantage of the vacant Quidditch pitch when things got really crazy around Hogwarts.

This week happened to have mayhem around every corner and chaos in every secret passage. First of all, Peeves the Poltergeist had reached a new level of being a nuisance. Much to his entertainment and to the dismay of Minerva, he had decided to follow her everywhere she went. Not only was it annoying to have him singing or shouting in her ear at every waking moment (and at some moments she was truly awakened by him), but it was rather disturbing when he tried to follow her into the shower. Fortunately Peeves chose a new victim to bother for the next week.

In addition, the seventh years came up with the idea of a “prank week.” After twenty-seven detentions issued by Minerva alone, the tricks stopped by lunchtime Monday. However, finding all of her writing utensils replaced with Sugar Quills and several random papers that read “PRANK WEEK!” in her files seriously hampered her attempt to get any work done in or out of lessons.

“This one’s for you, Murphy!” Minerva yelled as she smacked a Bludger across the stadium. Gerald Murphy was one of the seventh years who participated in the short-lived Prank Week, who had stolen her wand and “accidentally” transfigured her hairpins into hummingbirds, forcing her to spend the whole hour with her hair down, since the birds escaped through the open window. Gerald received a week’s worth of detentions, doing any and every task asked of him by a member of the Hogwarts staff.

Of course it didn’t help that she was still trying to resolve her situation with Albus. It had been almost two weeks, and she was still nowhere nearer to moving on or understanding her silly emotions and thoughts. She swore it was love, but then again, she had every reason to second-guess herself. Her friends weren’t being very helpful, either. Pomona’s best suggestion was to take up potting Mandrakes with her in the mornings in order to take her mind off of Albus, to which Minerva immediately declined. Rolanda was being ridiculous and told her to “just forget about him." At that, Minerva simply walked away and wondered if Rolanda even believed in love.

“Merlin, that was close!” Minerva heard someone shout in the distance. She looked around for a minute or so until she saw a dark figure striding across the pitch. Whoever it was disappeared into the equipment room and came out on an old school broomstick. Minerva considered sending a Bludger in his or her direction just for kicks, but she quickly decided against it.

“I understand that you are dedicated to improving your game, but it is well past curfew!” the person, female, called up to Minerva as she flew towards her. “Now, I suggest that you—Minerva?” She stopped abruptly a few feet below Minerva and wore a vaguely distinguishable puzzled expression.

“Professor Sinistra?” Minerva said upon recognition. “What are you doing up so late?”

“Stargazing,” Professor Sinistra replied tersely, “which I believe is reasonable for me, considering I’m the Astronomy teacher. What brings you out here at this hour, Professor McGonagall? As far as I know, you are not actually a professional Quidditch player on the weekends.”

“This is my way of relieving stress,” Minerva explained.

“Well, if that is so, then please try not to hit Bludgers at the Astronomy Tower, especially on Friday nights. I always come out on Fridays, and it would be exceptionally difficult to observe the skies with a broken telescope.”

“I apologize if I’ve done any damage, Serena. I suppose I’m not really thinking fully at the moment.”

“It’s all right. You haven’t broken any of my delicate instruments. And I understand how you feel. Sometimes Hogwarts life can be trying. I’ve been working here a long time, too, Minerva.”

Minerva nodded. A silence passed between them.

“Well, good night, then,” Professor Sinistra said and started to return gently to the ground.

“Good night,” Minerva said softly as she, too, descended slowly, the Bludgers circling around her. She remained stationary, floating about two feet off the ground, watching as Professor Sinistra returned to the castle. Soon she was beyond sight and inside the building, and Minerva continued staring into space.

“Life can be trying…,” she quietly agreed. She seriously questioned her sanity for living such a life. Really, was it all worth it?

Minerva uttered a long, low sigh. It was cold enough to see her breath. With a slight shiver, she decided it was too late to be doing anything anymore. Clouds moved in upon the stars, creating a darkness too dark to see much of anything. Minerva could scarcely distinguish the outlines of the encircling Bludgers from the shadowy air. She dropped her feet to the ground and started to put away one of the Quidditch balls. The second was still hovering by her head as she removed the Charm she had put on the two Bludgers.

Promptly, the airborne ball whammed into her head before she could finish strapping the first one down, and the energetic Bludger rocketed vertically out of the case, knocking Minerva out cold.

[Junora]

That is not nice, to stop here.
Please MORE

But anyway it is great.
Hugs Lottie

[fallingmoon]

Aug 18, 2008 16:41:19 GMT -5 Junora said:

That is not nice, to stop here.
Please MORE

I quite agree. Don't stop there!! You have me hooked on this.

[Pingpongfreak]

So yeah,
Just want to run it by you, but
THIS IS GREAT.

Seriously, I am really enjoying this! I totally relate, hell, I think we all do. But as Minerva is laying there night after night, I can't help but completely understand! I really like the way you have approached this scenario. I'm glad you didn't do the whole "Oh, I was wrong Minerva, I do love you!" thing like the very next day. I like that if there was a change in Albus' attitude, it would be subtle. ANYwho, please continue!

[gahhMinerva]

Chapter 7: Care

“Min! Min! Minerva!”

Minerva could barely hear somebody calling her name. It was a familiar voice. Why was she hearing it now? She was asleep… right? But this wasn’t a dream; everything was dark. Then what…?

“Min! You dead?”

Someone was shaking her shoulders. This was real, but she didn’t feel awake. Her eyes felt heavy, and her head hurt. She could hear footsteps, fast. They were moving away. Slowly, Minerva pried her eyes open. Her surroundings gradually came into focus. She was lying on the grass outside the castle. It was the Quidditch pitch; she recognized it by the faint outlines of the large hoops at the end of the field. It was still dark. Whoever was speaking to her had gone away.

Minerva rubbed her head, which was aching severely. She tried to remember why she was outside in the first place. She looked around until her eyes landed on the Quidditch ball set by her feet. There were two Bludgers resting beside it, struggling to move.

The person who was here must have cast a spell upon them, she reasoned. Otherwise…! Then she remembered what had happened. She was putting them away and de-Charming them at the same time. Then one hit her, and… she couldn’t recall what happened next. The voice was the next thing in her memory, but it didn’t seem that that happened right after she got hit.

The footsteps returned. There were two sets of them, both running across the pitch towards her. She tried to focus on their faces, but it was too dark to identify them.

“She’s over here,” one of them said breathlessly. It was the voice from before, and now Minerva could tell who was speaking to her before. It was Rolanda.

The second person picked up the pace and rushed closer and closer to Minerva. This person was taller, with a long white beard, and as he neared, Minerva could see glittering stars on his robes.

“Minerva!” he gasped and dropped to his knees beside her. “Minerva, are you all right?”

Minerva nodded dumbly, even though she felt like she had been punched several times in the face and head.

“What happened?” he asked, brushing a few stray black hairs out of her face.

Minerva didn’t know what to say. She felt stupid telling him that she had gotten hit by Bludgers from which she had removed a Charm before strapping them down. She lowered her eyes and looked at the ground.

“Bludgers,” Rolanda, who was crouched down by her feet, said for her. “I saw them whizzing by my window and went out to put them away. I figured someone had set them loose as a prank. Then I found Minerva out here by her broom and the ball case. That’s when I decided to get you, Headmaster.”

“Oh, Merlin…,” Albus murmured. “Minerva, did the Bludgers knock you off your broom?”

She shook her head.

“No. It’s my fault,” she said. “I was stupid is all.” She sat up slowly, clutching at the side of her head.

Albus stared at her for a moment.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” Minerva said shortly. “Don’t worry about it.” She didn’t feel like looking any more like a fool. “What time is it? We should probably just go to bed.”

“It’s almost two,” Rolanda said. “You should see Poppy before you go anywhere, Min. Your nose looks broken, and if you got hit in the head by those two Bludgers, you might have suffered a mild concussion.”

“Rolanda’s right,” Albus agreed. “Come now, I’ll take you to see Madam Pomfrey.” He extended his hand.

Minerva frowned as she grabbed his hand and they stood up.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, even with a sudden wave of dizziness and her splitting headache. “There’s no need to disturb Madam Pomfrey at this hour. She’s probably asleep. Really, I’m all right.”

Albus raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“I’m sure Poppy won’t mind if we wake her to examine you. She would be furious to find out I let you go to bed without seeing her,” he said, with his eyes twinkling as usual. “Rolanda, you can go to bed. I’ll escort Minerva to the Hospital Wing.”

“Good night, Professor,” Rolanda said, and they parted ways.

Minerva avoided eye contact with Albus as they walked across the pitch and back into the castle. She felt ashamed of her idiocy and didn’t enjoy feeling like a fool. She didn’t want to explain how she managed to get hit by the Bludgers or why she was even out there in the first place. She wanted to return to her rooms, where she would not have to deal with Poppy and whatever lecture she might pull out tonight. Whatever injury she might have suffered could wait until morning for treatment. She wanted to go to bed and rest after this long, stressful week.

The silence persisted as the two of them walked down the candlelit corridors. With a quick glance to her side, she tried to read Albus’s expression. There was something other than the customary twinkle in his eyes, but she couldn’t quite tell what. She looked away, and they simply continued their path toward the Hospital Wing.

“Wait here,” Albus whispered when they entered the quiet hospital wing. “I’ll wake Madam Pomfrey.” He let go of her arm, which he had been holding gently throughout their trek to the infirmary, and went to find the mediwitch.

Minerva sat down at the foot of one of the beds and glanced around the room. No one else was in it, which seemed to be a rarity at Hogwarts, considering it was full of rowdy children and teenagers. Minerva clutched at her aching head again and awaited the return of Albus with Poppy. Within moments, she could hear two figures bustling into the room, Albus first, with Poppy at his heels. She was still pulling on her dressing gown as they swept toward Minerva.

“Mmhm, broken nose, you were right,” Poppy murmured to Dumbledore, almost as if Minerva could not hear. “Give me a second, and I can mend it.” She drew her wand and raised it to Minerva’s face. After tapping Minerva’s nose and uttering an incantation, Madam Pomfrey had mended the nose perfectly.

“Thank you,” Minerva said and touched her face, feeling her repaired nose.

“Not a problem,” Madam Pomfrey said. “What happened?”

“Bludgers,” Minerva muttered, clutching at her head again. “Please… don’t ask anything else about it.”

Poppy straightened up and gave Minerva a searching look.

“Fine.” She summoned a bottle of a dark liquid, which glided gently into her hand. “Drink half a goblet-full of this tonight and again in the morning. It’s for your head.” She handed the bottle to Minerva and then summoned a medicinal goblet from the cabinet and gave her that, too.

“All right.”

“Be careful that your measurements are precise. Taking too much can be dangerous,” Poppy warned. Then she adjusted her tone to a softer one. “See me tomorrow after breakfast, and I’ll prescribe additional amounts if necessary.”

Minerva nodded.

“Is there anything else, Poppy?” Albus, who had been silent this whole time, asked.

“No… that’s all,” Poppy answered, shaking her head.

“Thank you,” Albus said. “Good night, Poppy.”

“Good night, Headmaster, Minerva,” Madam Pomfrey said and returned to her quarters.

Once she was out of sight, Albus turned to Minerva. His concerned eyes studied Minerva as he placed his hand upon her shoulder. Minerva gazed back into his eyes and said nothing.

“Come, I’ll walk you to your rooms,” Albus offered.

Minerva rose slowly.

“You don’t have to. I can take care of myself,” she said, gazing impassively into his cool blue eyes.

“I know.”

They stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, after admitting to herself that she could use some assistance, Minerva resignedly leaned into his body, and he wrapped his extended arm around her shoulders and guided her out of the Hospital Wing. Their bodies could not be much closer as he helped up to her private chambers in Gryffindor Tower. They stood at Godric Gryffindor’s portrait, not saying anything, staring at each other yet again.

“…Thank you,” Minerva whispered, piercing the awkward silence.

“Of course,” Albus breathed.

In the dark shadows they stood, close but not touching, facing each other but not speaking. All was still and quiet, both of them focusing on each other’s eyes. Minerva fixed her eyes upon his blue ones, feeling just like a teenage schoolgirl, as if they had just come from a date, and Albus didn’t know whether to kiss her or not. She knew a kiss wasn’t coming, but so strongly did she urge to kiss him! But that could not happen, and she knew it.

“Well… good night, Albus,” Minerva said, turning toward the portrait. His presence made her feel so protected and special, but the simultaneous heartbrokenness told her she needed to get away.

For a moment, he didn’t respond. He was still staring at her, with a strange expression in his eyes. Minerva had seen it before, when something on his mind was bothering him. She tore her eyes away and muttered her password. She began to open the door behind Gryffindor, when Albus’s voice sounded from behind her.

“Minerva,” he said finally.

She turned around.

“What is it?” she said.

“What—what did you mean by… you ‘were stupid’?” he asked.

Minerva sighed inside. Why was he asking about this now? She had said those words nearly an hour ago. She didn’t want to be bothered with the question. Explaining would probably lead him to more questions, and she didn’t want to deal with that right now.

“Is that bothering you?”

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “I… I want to know that you’re all right, Minerva.”

She sighed audibly.

“I am,” she said firmly. “Don’t worry about what happened out there on the pitch, all right? Now, please let me go, Albus. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“…All right,” he said. “Good night, Minerva.”

Minerva nodded and slipped into her private chambers. She sank into her red sofa and poured the medicine into the goblet. Half a goblet-full… At the goblets midpoint, she stopped and placed the bottle on the coffee table. Before bringing the goblet to her lips, she paused and wondered what would happen to her if she did drink all of the potion tonight. Poppy didn’t say; she just said not to overdose.

Perhaps it’d kill me, she thought, and promptly downed her first dose of potion.

[Pingpongfreak]

Ahh! Update please, this is such a wonderful story! I love love love it!

[Jessabelle]

This story is incredibly good and is one of the very few that has caught my attention these days. Excellent work ... thank-you for sharing it.
Please update again soon!
- Jess

[Sparrabether]

Fantastic story! I can't wait to read the next installment.

[gahhMinerva]

Thank you for all the comments so far. =) Sorry for the delay in getting the next chapter posted; I started my first semester of college a couple weeks ago and have been quite busy since! Anyway, here is Chapter 8!

Chapter 8: Extreme

“Poppy, I refuse to take any more of that potion. It’s positively dreadful!”

Minerva McGonagall sat in the hospital wing one night two weeks later, arguing with Madam Pomfrey. A bottle of a dark liquid rested on the desk between the two witches. The mediwitch was struggling to convince Minerva that she ought to continue with the medication.

“Minerva, you took two blows to the head! It is recommended by 9 out of 10 medical professionals that patients with serious head injuries should be monitored and treated with a small dosage of this potion for at least three weeks. It’s only been two.”

“Three weeks! Really, Poppy, that’s excessive. What source gave you that idea?”

“Modern Magical Medicine.”

Minerva frowned.

“My head is fine, Poppy. I don’t care what rubbish that magazine told you.”

“It’s the most trusted journal in medicine!” Poppy exclaimed.

Minerva just glowered at Poppy and sat defiantly in silence.

“Just one more week, Minerva.”

“No!”

“Minerva! Do you care at all about your health?” Poppy said.

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Minerva said stubbornly.

“You’re impossible,” Poppy sighed exasperatedly. “Will you just take the damn potion for one more week?”

Minerva sat obstinately still and looked daggers at Poppy. Poppy was not to be moved, and finally Minerva gave in.

“Fine,” she grumbled. “One week. But that’s it!”

She snatched up the bottle and stormed out of the office, feeling angrily defeated. She hated losing arguments, but she knew that Poppy always had her way in her domain, the Hospital Wing. The moment she stomped out into the corridor, she smacked right into Professor Sprout, who was passing by the door at that very same instant. The glass potion bottle flew out of Minerva’s hand and Pomona Sprout fell to the floor. Fortunately, Pomona, who was lying on her back, managed to catch the bottle before is crashed down and shattered.

“Oh—sorry, Pomona,” Minerva said distractedly and almost began to set off again. She paused and turned back around, remembering the potion.

“Talk about déjà vu,” Pomona said as she stood up, obviously remember their minor collision in the corridor a few weeks ago. “You dropped this.” She extended her arm to return the potion.

“Thank you,” Minerva said, not really wanting the potion but accepting it all the same. She pocketed it. “Well, I’ve got to go and, um… deliver this to someone.” She lightly patted her robes pocket containing the potion. Of course she lied to Professor Sprout about the true reason for her possession of the potion. Minerva wasn’t prepared to admit that there was really anything wrong with her. Surely Poppy was just being paranoid anyway.

“Oh, of course,” Pomona said awkwardly. “I suppose you’d better get going, then.”

Minerva bobbed her head slowly and then quickly bolted away in the direction opposite Professor Sprout’s path. She hated awkward conversations. She always felt very uncomfortable when she couldn’t think of the right thing to say.

Now, what to do with this potion… Minerva wondered as she wandered through the school. She certainly wasn’t about to deal with the awful potion for any longer. Perhaps I could toss it into the forest… or I could just Vanish it…

She raised her wand to do the job, and just as she was about to utter the words, she thought she heard someone. She stopped abruptly and looked around. Nobody was allowed to catch her Vanishing her medicine! Then Poppy would surely lecture her for Merlin-knows-how-long, and she would just get another potion. Swiftly, she scurried into a nearby unused classroom.

“Eva—” she began, until she thought she heard someone again. She held her breath for a moment and waited to hear where this person was. When she heard nothing and felt sure that nobody was there, she raised her wand for a third time. However, a glow of light suddenly appeared elsewhere in the classroom, and it vaguely illuminated a man’s face.

“Good evening, Minerva.”

Minerva lowered her wand and whirled to face him.

“Albus!” she gasped, clearly surprised and puzzled by his presence.

The Headmaster just smiled.

“I knew someone else was in here!” she muttered. “What are you doing here, Albus?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Albus said calmly as he hopped off the desk on which he was sitting. He strolled toward Minerva and moved his shining wand to light up the area around her hands. “Do you always take your medication in the dark, Minerva?” He raised a white eyebrow inquisitively.

Minerva scowled.

“It would not surprise me if you were to say… Vanish your potion. I have noticed you do the same with your meals on occasion,” he continued gravely.

This man is both omniscient and omnipresent, she thought.

“Albus…,” Minerva sighed, but soon realized she had nothing to say.

“What is the matter, Minerva?” Albus asked. “Please tell me.”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“Then why?” He gestured toward her wand. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“I don’t need it. Poppy is being extreme.”

“I’m sure she is not,” Albus said rationally. “Don’t you care about your well-being, Minerva?”

“Of course I do,” Minerva said stiffly, “but there is nothing wrong with me.”

“You don’t eat.”

“Yes, I do. Just sometimes I am not hungry.”

“Minerva…”

“Please stop, Albus. I’m fine.”

She quickly strode out of the room and headed in no particular direction. She didn’t need this. She was fine. Everybody was just prying too much into her life. Didn’t they know that she was very capable of taking care of herself? She was a grown woman and didn’t need others to tell her what to do with herself.

“Minerva!” Albus exclaimed, but Minerva sped up. She ran aimlessly through the nighttime corridors, just trying to get away. She didn’t want to listen to his concerns for her. There was no reason for him to care. There was no reason for anybody to care so much about her. She didn’t want Albus or Poppy or Pomona or anyone to burden themselves, wondering if she was all right.

That’s all I am, a burden, Minerva thought as she continued through the castle, not realizing the tears that stained her cheeks. They all care too much. I’m not worth it. I don’t contribute any goodness to their lives. It’s not fair to them. I don’t deserve their concern. They shouldn’t have to trouble themselves over me–

Minerva’s broken thoughts continued to race as she choked over the sobs, and she finally stumbled and fell, blinded by the tears. She clumsily pulled herself up and huddled in a dark corner, crying messily to herself.

“Minerva,” Albus called and began to rush over to her quivering form.

“No!” Minerva protested shrilly and buried her face from sight. She felt Albus wrap his arms around her small, trembling frame, and she continued to protest. “No, no, no… Albus…”

Albus stroked her dark hair and brushed the fallen strands out of her face. He wiped the tears as they dropped, while Minerva carried on with her objections.

“Albus, I don’t– you shouldn’t– please don’t– I can’t–” she stammered.

“Shh…,” Albus whispered. “Just calm down, love.”

With that, Minerva snapped.

She wrenched herself free and said, “Please don’t do this to me, Albus.” She stood up and stepped away from him. “Please, I can’t—I can’t…” I can’t let you make me feel this way anymore. I can’t let you reach my heart. Not again, not anymore…

“Minerva? Why? Please… please tell me what is wrong.” The confusion and worry were evident in his cool blue eyes.

“I can’t… I can’t take this anymore.”

Albus stared, shaking his head with is mouth gaping slightly, clearly at a loss of what to do or say.

Still clasped around the neck of the potion bottle was her tremulous hand. She closed her eyes and shakily brought the bottle to her lips. Albus watched in fear and shock from the other side of the corridor as she began taking swallow after swallow of the potion.

“Minerva… stop, Minerva, please stop!” he cried out. “Minerva, you’ve got to stop…”

Suddenly, Minerva’s eyes shot open and she stopped downing the potion. She pulled the near-empty bottle away from her mouth and, gasping for breath, let it crash to the floor.

What have I done? she asked herself, scared to death of what would happen to her. She felt sick and lightheaded and wobbled toward Albus.

“Minerva!” Albus cried, as she collapsed to the floor.

[Sparrabether]

Massive cliffie! Update soon, so I can see if Mins alright...

[fallingmoon]

Oh wow! Where have I been when you lasted updated this? (haha that's right I was doing my darn Precalculus homework) Well, anyways, this is extremely good. You have to update it. I really want to know what happens!

[gahhMinerva]

Chapter 9: Speechless

“I don’t know how I could let this happen.”

“It’s not your fault, Professor. You shouldn’t blame yourself.”

“I should have stopped her, Poppy. I don’t know—I don’t know why I stood and watched. This should not have happened. I should have done something. I should have done something sooner. How could I have not known Minerva felt so—so—“

“Albus! You couldn’t have known. It’s a terrible thing that happened, but no one is to blame. You have to realize that.”

“But Poppy, I—I—“

They were talking about her. Minerva could hear their voices from her bed in the private ward of the Hospital Wing. They didn’t know she was awake. In fact, she hadn’t been awake for very long. She didn’t know how long she had been a patient or anything that happened since she collapsed. The last thing she recalled was Albus’s voice calling out her name. He sounded so worried. He even sounded—scared.

Minerva had only just taken in her surroundings. She felt terrible, as could be expected from drinking so much of that dreadful potion. The normal amount always left her feeling slightly sick afterwards, but this was something a million times worse. She had never felt so physically horrible in her life. Her insides were all messed up and she knew it. Her head was pounding, she could barely move, and her stomach ached miserably. She closed her eyes again. She wasn’t ready to face them just yet. She didn’t want a lecture or pity. She just continued to listen to their conversation.

“Will she be all right?”

“She should be. I can’t be certain, though, Albus. She took over three times the safe dosage.”

“Oh, Merlin…”

“We’ll just have to wait and see. I’ve told you this already. Just try to be patient. She should be waking soon.”

“What if she doesn’t, Poppy? Could she die?”

“Minerva’s strong, Albus. She’ll be weak for a while, until the potion clears out of her system, but it’s not usually lethal. She would have had to take almost twice what she did for it to be particularly deadly.”

“But there’s a chance?”

Poppy paused before answering.

“Always.”

Their silence was grim.

Minerva didn’t like hearing them talk like that, especially Albus. He sounded so afraid. She had never heard him sound so anxious. It didn’t suit him. He needed to be his usual lighthearted self, the man who brightened the whole room with his infectious chuckle and twinkling blue eyes. Now his gloom, it was contagious, too. His despondency radiated throughout Hospital Wing. Minerva felt awful that she had caused it.

“May I see her?”

“Of course.”

Minerva could hear a shuffling of feet and chairs in Poppy’s office. She cracked one eye open slightly and saw Albus enter the room. He was a wreck. He had obviously been crying, and he looked as if he might break down at any moment. She shut her eye as he approached. She heard the scraping of a chair against the floor and felt Albus gently clasp her hand. Her heartstrings strained to their limits.

He sobbed. In that instant, he lost control and began to weep. She could hear his unsteady gasps as he blew his nose.

“Minerva… oh, Minerva…” he murmured tremulously, grasping her hands with both of his now. “I’m sorry. This should not have happened. I should have realized something was wrong sooner. I should have paid more attention. I should have spent more time with you. I should have—I should have—” He brought Minerva’s hand up to his face, traced her skin delicately, and kissed it. “I’m sorry—please, just wake up, Minerva...” He trailed off and wept onto her knuckles, the tears sliding down her skin.

Minerva opened her eyes and desolately watched him cry. It broke her heart to see him so sad. She never intended to hurt him, and she couldn’t believe that she had. She slowly turned her head slightly and softly squeezed his hand to let him know that she was all right.

Albus slowly lifted his face. His puffy blue eyes lit up when he saw Minerva’s green, and a smile gradually formed from his lips. Before he could restrain himself, he joyously threw his arms around her.

“Minerva! Minerva, thank goodness you’re all right! I was so worried! I thought I might have lost you... Oh, thank Merlin!” he cried in relief as happy tears rolled down his cheeks.

Poppy bustled into the room at the sound of Albus’s exclamations. She grinned at the sight. Minerva was awake after the long night, and Albus was overflowing with elation.

“Come now, get up before you crush her,” she said.

Albus reluctantly obeyed and resumed his seat.

Poppy came to Minerva’s other side and checked her vital signs.

“Good. You’re doing much better than you were a few hours ago,” she said. “You gave us quite a scare, Min.”

Minerva looked away. She didn’t want to talk about it just yet.

“Rest now. You need to regain your strength,” Poppy said. “I’ll be back to check on you in a bit. For now, just take it easy.” She gave a reassuring smile and returned to her office, leaving the two of them alone.

They maintained an awkward silence. Minerva didn’t know what to say now that Albus knew she was awake. She felt bad. She felt bad about a lot of things. She realized all the mistakes she had made and just wished she could go back and fix them. She felt awful about all the people she hurt, and within herself, she still didn’t feel right. She felt terrible that she had done so much as to make Albus scared enough to cry, and she wasn’t sure she was worthy of being loved by Albus Dumbledore. Although he had hurt her, she didn’t feel justified in making him suffer, too.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong now?” Albus asked softly.

Minerva just stared.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I…I shouldn’t press you. You let me know when you’re ready.” He took a long, deep breath. “Minerva, I want to apologize. I haven’t been as good a friend as I’d like to believe. I didn’t realize that something was wrong until it was much too late, and that was a neglect of our friendship on my part. I am sorry it had to come to this. I am sorry if this is my fault.”

It was a gentler gaze this time.

“I’m truly sorry, Minerva. I hope you can accept my apology.” He breathed again. “I understand if you do not wish to speak with me. I finally do. Just please… I hope you will soon. I was terrified that I had lost you forever, and even though you’re not gone, I still feel as if I had lost you. In the past month or so, we’ve become distant, and we used to have such a close relationship. I want to regain that friendship, Minerva. I am sorry if I’ve hurt you. I’m sorry… about everything. Please… don’t distance yourself. I’m here for you. I want you to know that. If you ever need anything, only say the word and I would be there. I sincerely care about you, Minerva. I couldn’t bear to lose you. I… I…” There he trailed off.

Minerva lowered her eyes. It was so much, so fast. She had almost killed herself, and she had only just realized she was alive. She was so lucky. A second chance at life and she didn’t know what to do with it. Albus was being so good to her, and she didn’t know what to say to him. She was afraid to let herself continue to love him, but she knew she could not stop her heart’s desires. She needed to know how he honestly felt, but to ask for that knowledge was forbidden. All of this together overwhelmed her.

“Minerva, you have to let me in. I almost lost you,” Albus choked out, ready to sob again. “I want to know why. I know this isn’t some meaningless, isolated event. Something is wrong, and I want to help fix what has gone so awry in your life. Please, Minerva. You have got to let me know what is going on.”

Minerva could feel her eyes well up again as he shared how scared he felt about her overdose and how hurt he was that she did not confide in him. She wished she didn’t have to share why she felt so low. She believed that her feelings were too irrational or too exaggerated to justify what she had done.

“If I’ve hurt you, I want to make up for it. I’m sorry. You have to understand that. I’m sorry about…about…,” he paused and closed his eyes, as if to muster courage. “Minerva, I love you. I truly do. I can’t bear to see you hurt.”

Glittering tears dripped from Minerva’s eyes, and her mouth dropped open. Speechless.

[fallingmoon]

Sept 30, 2008 8:41:01 GMT -5 mmadness4ever said:

Had the story not been so sad I would've said that Minerva speechless is a priceless picture.

I totally agree with you. Anyways, gahhMinerva, I really love your story here. It's one of my favorites.

[admmityourlove]

You absolutely must continue! This is an amazing story. I don't normally read angst, but now I might have to reconsider that policy... please update soon!