Minerva's Secret

[Bola]

Minerva's Secret


This is set at the lead-up to the First Wizarding war with Voldemort, and may give an elucidation about the bonding that existed between her and Dumbledore, and why she may have become the often bitter teacher she's seen as.

Minerva's 29.



Chapter 1

"Avada Kedavra!"

"No!" Minerva screamed, immediately turning her head to see the stream of green light, and the body of Finnley Ronan collapse at Lord Voldemort's feet. She only barely got to curse a shield to keep herself from ending up the same. From the corners of her eyes, she could see her lover's lifeless body. New determination took over her, and she too began cursing to kill. "Avada Kedavra!" she yelled, nostrils spread in anger, and watching her attacker go down much like her fiancé had minutes earlier.

As Finnley's killer thudded down before her with a shock of surprise at his defeat lingering on his lips, Minerva momentarily let her eyes wander to the body of her fiancé again. Lord Voldemort usually didn't leave any survivors on his way. She had seen the glow of sickening bright green connect with his chest, and had watched him fall backward eyes wide to never see again. She however, the passionate Minerva McGonagall, couldn't just accept mere hours after the couple had made love last that no longer he would smile at her, or look at her with his own passionate pair of cobalt blue eyes. That one little period of time it took Minerva to look at her lifeless fiancé, was enough for one of Voldemort's trustworthy Death Eaters to disarm her.

She then stood vulnerable before Voldemort himself and three of his followers. She quietly watched as the woman she knew was named Irma Dolchev handed over her own wand, laying it in Voldemort's open hand. He almost immediately began toying with it between his lengthy bony fingers, while keeping his gaze directed at Minerva. "Imperio!" he whispered, suddenly directing his wand at Minerva. "Come," he hissed.

Without really wanting to do it, Minerva could feel herself being dragged to Lord Voldemort. She really tried to fight it, but his curse just happened to be much too powerful. At least Minerva could get it a bit in her command, since most of the wizards or witches being under the famous Imperius curse weren't even aware of it. That realization gave her the power to fight harder against Voldemort's curse, but before she could do more, she was down onto her knees before him, much like a puppet, being orchestrated by the devil himself. The rest of the Order would be here soon enough, Minerva thought.

She really tried forcing herself not to obey as Voldemort quietly commanded for the woman to lay before him. She then squeezed her eyes shut with the effort it took to try keep her legs together while Voldemort so ordered her to open them for him. She refused, and thus Voldemort just saw no other way than torture her until Minerva no longer had the power to fight him off. This witch could be even stronger than he might have thought. She certainly would be very good as one of his Death Eaters, but then again her loyalty would never leave Dumbledore and his Order. Voldemort's teeth clenched together. "Crucio!" he hissed, and happily watched as the woman's blue eyes rolled into her head, and as she began writhing in pain.

She came by breathless, directing her eyes at the evil itself. Without wand, of course Minerva was powerless. She just had to hold this a few more minutes, until the rest of the Order had arrived. Again, she could feel herself being pushed into a position she never wanted to be in. The torture that had succeeded in rendering her breathless and slightly weaker than before, was having its effect.

She quietly shut her eyes, again forcing her legs to remain together. "I already see your paradise," Voldemort whispered, agonizingly near. That's when Minerva only realized she must have lost this fight. She could feel herself being stretched painfully as Voldemort's unwelcome manhood invaded her. Tears almost immediately threatened to rise up and roll down the surface of her cheeks. She just had lost every little bit of female dignity she must have had…but she wouldn't show it. She wouldn't make him believe that he even though his cruelty, had won. She slowly forced her eyes to open as Voldemort continued pounding inside her. Her cold blue eyes remained watching him, refusing to show any sign of defeat, or even pain for that matter.

The sounds of apparition could be heard near, and immediately after she had gotten to register Albus, this followed by the absence of Voldemort and his three remaining Death Eaters. Minerva slowly rose into an awkward sitting position, letting her eyes go over Albus as he quietly sat by her side. More sounds of apparition could be heard near, and she unconsciously began panicking. Wasn't it already worse enough Dumbledore had seen her like this?

"I'm taking you to Hogwarts," Dumbledore whispered, waiting for the woman's nod, before taking her into his embrace and raising. Albus just felt relieved that she then at least allowed his offer to aid her. She might as well have curled up much like a hedgehog at the sight of anyone – especially a man like him – near.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, before informing one of their fellow Order members named David that their enemy had fled, and Minerva first had to be taken care of at Hogwarts.

[Bola]

Chapter 2

Minerva's eyes fluttered before opening. It took her just a couple of minutes to slowly adjust to the light in the room and to focus, noticing two figures by the end of her bed. Only once in her times as a pupil at Hogwarts had she ended up in this ward. Minerva had been one of the Chasers on the Gryffindor Quidditch team for years, and had once gotten a raging Bludger against her nose, knocking her from her broom. She hadn't had to stay much longer than a few days, for her nose and everything else had healed fairly well, but that didn't change the fact Minerva recognized these surroundings good enough.

She couldn't recall how she had gotten there at first, until suddenly the happenings of the last couple of…hours?...came to her. She had really no indication of time, but assumed that it must be at least day according to the light filtering in through the windows, and throwing rays of early morning sunshine onto the beds, and her. Beside her, everything else appeared unoccupied. That wasn't so strange, though. Only most of the teachers stayed at Hogwarts during summer, until the new school year would announce itself. Pupils of course enjoyed their holidays with friends and family instead.

More details of what had happened last night came to her, and visions of her fiancé Finnley Ronan began flashing before her eyes, with more images of Lord Voldemort forcing himself onto her, and then the much kinder Albus coming by her side. She intuitively looked to her right, raising her eyes to look into the man's blue eyes, behind his famous half-moon spectacles. She vaguely recalled him mentioning something of taking her to Hogwarts, but couldn't recall anything of the journey there, or anything. Had she lost consciousness on the way? What had happened to her home?

She could see the Headmaster's eyes stray sideways. "Poppy, could we have a moment, please?" he questioned, and she could see the nurse nod, before giving her a smile that held the middle between friendship, and sympathy and a lot of other things she couldn't say right then. She was having a huge head-ache. She would have to ask Poppy for something against that later.

Albus quietly sat by the edge of her bed, and eyed her rather seriously. "Poppy has been giving you Dreamless Sleep. Minerva, do you recall anything of what happened tonight?" he questioned, voice soft and caring.

She just nodded at him in reply. Silence overtook them for a couple of minutes. When Minerva could no longer bear to look in those piercing blue eyes anymore, for their reminding her of Finnley's, she quietly turned her head to the side on the pillow, trying to hide the tears that threatened to fall down from her eyes. "What happened to Finnley?" she whispered, before slowly turning her head to the Headmaster again.

"I'm sorry, Minerva," he whispered, and carefully reached for her hand, which lay on the top of the sheets across her abdomen. He cautiously squeezed it, trying to reassure her, even though right now he couldn't say whether he actually could. Should he, even? Should he do his best to rationalize the pain she felt, when he himself didn't truly believe that was even possible? Should he be aiding this woman in rationalizing the love she felt for her fiancé, but wouldn't ever be returned anymore? Should he aid Minerva in rationalizing what it felt like to be loved?

He sighed, before retracting his hand. "Lord Voldemort…" Albus began, watching her cringe at the mention of his name, even though she never had like this before. He couldn't blame her, though.

"Don't," Minerva whispered, just one tear finding its way down her cheek. She shakily reached up to brush it away. Even though Dumbledore almost surely would disguise it in other wordings, she didn't particularly need hearing what that monster had done to her. The aching between her legs already reminded her enough of what had happened.

Dumbledore nodded, understanding. "I'm sorry," he whispered again. "Poppy is estimating you will have to remain in this ward for at least a couple more days." Minerva's mouth opened, but Dumbledore already saw through her question. "I'm sure that with some aid, you might be able to attend your fiancé's funeral. Timber's arranging everything."

Minerva nodded. Timber would surely be the one arranging everything. Finnley's brother was much like her fiancé had been himself. She sighed, before almost unconsciously shaking her head backward and forth. Was it really fair to her to be taken away the man she loved, and any dignity she had had in one night? Would it have been fair to anyone?

Suddenly Albus reached into the folds of his robes, and pulled from it a wand she immediately recognized as her own. "My wand…" she gasped.

Albus nodded. "I would assume that in his hurry to get away with his Death Eaters, Lord Voldemort left this behind." He quietly got up, and laid her wand down on the nightstand, before turning to her. "Just rest, Minerva," he whispered, before carefully leaning in to kiss her forehead.

Minerva eyed him awkwardly. Even though Dumbledore had never been unkind to her or anyone else for that matter, this seemed a bit uncharacteristic for him. Was he feeling sorry for her? Regardless of the pain she felt inside, she didn't really need anyone to feel sorry for her. She wouldn't allow it.

"Poppy will take care of you. I'll come visit you again tomorrow." And just like that, Albus Dumbledore turned on his heel, and left her to the care of Poppy Pomfrey.

[Bola]

Chapter 3

"I'm fine," Minerva reassured, stretching her hand to keep Poppy at bay. She didn't need the aid. She could get up without. She could take care of herself. She failed to notice the worry that was etched upon the nurse's forehead. Albus however said nothing. He just waited in patience beside the bed, his cloak hanging over an arm. She didn't have to look up to be aware of his piercing blue eyes directed upon nothing or no one else but her. She had had too much Transfiguration under his lead not to have learned that by now.

Trying her best not to make it too obvious, she rapidly took a breath, before easing her legs over the side of the bed, supporting her weight by her fist solidly lodged into the bed beside her. She intuitively bit her tongue to keep herself from wincing, whereas on the inside Minerva was screaming, and not only because of the pain in her restraining, rigid limbs. She hadn't allowed herself to cry even once. She wouldn't give him that joy; him, Tom Riddle. Even in her head, Minerva only spat the name with loath. He wouldn't get her, the courageous Gryffindor. She would ascertain the difference between them; between a Gryffindor, and a Slytherin.

That however didn't mean she hadn't often felt terrified by the least. And even though she had told herself so many times in her head not to give in to feeling that way, she couldn't do anything about it. She couldn't keep the memories of that night now three days earlier at bay. Every time she fell asleep, the recollection would sneak up to her, and bury itself into her mind, and make her relive every little detail again. Every night since the one three days earlier in which she had lost not only her spouse, and home, but every bit of female dignity she had had, she would see the flash of green light again. She would watch her Finnley fall to the earth much like an ordinary, ragged doll. She too would feel these filthy finger tips touching her again. Minerva would feel him inside her again. She would hear her rapist's breathing again as he just had his disgusting merry little way with her.

He had used his magic only to cause her pain. He hadn't used any violence without, hadn't hit her or anything. Minerva however wasn't sure if this could be considered so much better then. Wasn't it especially difficult to realize that Finnley, the love of her life, had touched her in almost the same ways, even though really nothing of the feelings eliciting them were considerable for even hypothetical comparison?

Every time, she internally cursed herself for sending Poppy away with her bottle of Dreamless Sleep. Every time again she fell asleep from the indescribable effort it took to fight against the exhaustion, and from the necessity of sleep healing required.

Minerva quietly used both of her fists to push herself further to the edge of the bed, until both of her feet touched wood. She slowly raised herself, and remained holding onto the bed with one hand momentarily to regain balance for the first in days. Slowly, Minerva rose further, and let go of the bed. She contentedly succeeded in keeping herself upright for a while, before both of her legs began quivering under carrying her weight again after not having done so for a couple of days.

Poppy Pomfrey was by her side immediately, aiding her in supporting herself. She slowly eased her onto the edge of the bed again. "Minerva…" Albus' voice sounded. She quietly raised her eyes to meet his, not needing the words which she already knew he would say… "Minerva, I'm not sure if this would be such…"

She interrupted. "I'm fine. I just…" she sighed. "Albus. I really need to do this, even if only for the sake of my sanity." She begged him with her eyes, but he wouldn't yield. She knew. She wouldn't ever be able to convince him, and let her go with. To herself she quietly admitted that maybe indeed she wasn't powerful enough yet.

The witch again exhaled, before getting up once more, fighting against the nausea and light-headedness while taking her cloak from Poppy – who just eyed her open mouthed, before turning to Albus. She could see the doubt in his eyes as Minerva internally continued battling not to lose consciousness. The need to be there at her love's funeral overpowered the feelings of uncertainty. The deep aching inside only added more to that. She couldn't imagine not being there. She wouldn't, either.

Keeping herself upright was of course one thing, but walking was yet another. She quietly reached for Albus' arm. Together Albus and she began walking slowly, in the direction of the wide wooden doors. The couple of steps necessary to move just three feet appeared enough for the weak Minerva to fail into carrying herself once more. Albus and Poppy both immediately reached for her, to keep her from collapsing.

With the ease of a man in his early years of adultery, Albus then lifted his battered, former pupil, before carrying her to the bed again, and cautiously depositing her onto it. "Minerva," he whispered. "You're too weak. I pr-"

"No, I'm not!" Minerva argued, interrupting him much like before. Her voice was shrill, very near the verge of hysteria, and rather loud despite the fact she had almost fainted twice in the minutes that had passed. She however didn't move to get onto her feet again.

"I'm sorry," Albus whispered, putting his fingers on hers. She didn't pull away, but just averted her eyes from him to the heavy wooden beams overhead, almost childishly beginning to trail the lines of age in them. Albus quietly squeezed her fingers, but no indication of having felt this came.

Albus sighed. "I'm sorry, Minerva."

[Bola]

Chapter 4

Minerva didn't show any emotion as she slowly, with the aid of her former Transfigurations Professor, eyed the rubble that had once been her home. Finnley and she had bought it with everything the two youthful Aurors had had only one year earlier, a bit before their marriage. It hadn't been much, but at least it had been home. Nothing of it was actually left now, though.

Quietly, while unconsciously leaning onto Albus a bit harder, Minerva began making her way to the building. Albus just followed, without commenting. Upon reaching what had once been Minerva's lively garden, he could feel her shake. That's where it had all happened. He momentarily tightened his hold on her, reminding her she wasn't alone in this. He wasn't sure if it made any difference, but he furiously hoped it did.

He almost lifted her over what had once been her door in order to get inside, since most of the beams and walls of which their house had been built had come down to obstruct their way. She was a little stronger again, but aid was of course welcome. Albus surely understood she really had to do this in order to be able to go on with life. She really needed to say goodbye to the house she had called home, and to her fiancé. Since she hadn't been able to be there at his funeral, Finnley's grave would become their next destination, if at least Minerva was up for it still after this.

Minerva gasped, looking at basically every thing of what had belonged to her and Finnley lay turned over carelessly, as if war had gone on there. She could feel the tentacles of that feeling called pain surround her as suddenly realization downed upon her: there had. A war actually had gone on there. She unconsciously bit down on her lower lip, to keep herself from crying. Finnley had been courageous, so she felt that strange, irrational need to be the strongest she could possibly be right now.

Again she gasped, upon letting her eyes fall onto the shreds of broken glass from the wooden picture frame that had held a picture of her and Finnley together taken on the night he had asked her to marry him. She had said yes, even before his question had been finished. She slowly lowered herself onto her knees in the rubble, releasing her hold on Albus.

He just watched her, as Minerva quietly reached for the picture underneath the chips of sharp glass. She accidently cut the middle finger tip, and winced, retracting it by pure reflex. Bright red blood almost immediately began welling up at the surface of her skin. Albus quietly sat down beside her, supporting her with one hand on the small of her spine, before using an artistic little swipe of his wand at the cut to heal it with magic. Almost at once the skin sealed itself again. The red blood bead disappeared, and for just an instant a thin white line could be seen right where the cut had been, before that as well disappeared, as if nothing had happened.

Minerva didn't look up. She just carefully reached for the picture again, and this time effectively dragged the moving colorless picture from under the shreds of glass without hurting herself. She almost intuitively held the picture to her heart, before lowering her head. Albus could see the effort his former Transfigurations pupil had not to cry in despair at the pain she felt inside upon clutching the picture of her together with her beloved.

Minerva slowly raised her head, looking at what once had been the neat living room. Nothing was still upright. Minerva gasped, and Albus momentarily thought that finally she would let her tears fall, but being a true Gryffindor, she didn't. She wasn't ready yet. She would show her feelings once she had learned to deal with them alone, if ever… Keeping everything bottled up inside wasn't going to be better. He wouldn't watch the battered younger Minerva fall down the abyss without trying to intervene if he could, but – he sighed – for now he would give her the time she needed.

"Minerva?" Albus whispered. "Is there something you would like to take with to Hogwarts?"

She slowly raised her eyes to meet Albus'. Silence fell between both of them. The much younger Animagus then whispered, "Is there even anything left whole?" she asked, and Albus couldn't say whether or not this question was meant rhetorical or not. He sighed once again, before laying his hand atop of hers, patting it, and squeezing. He would have given a lot to change everything, but he couldn't.

"What's left?" Minerva whispered more to herself than anyone else.

[Bola]

Chapter 4

Minerva didn't show any emotion as she slowly, with the aid of her former Transfigurations Professor, eyed the rubble that had once been her home. Finnley and she had bought it with everything the two youthful Aurors had had only one year earlier, a bit before their marriage. It hadn't been much, but at least it had been home. Nothing of it was actually left now, though.

Quietly, while unconsciously leaning onto Albus a bit harder, Minerva began making her way to the building. Albus just followed, without commenting. Upon reaching what had once been Minerva's lively garden, he could feel her shake. That's where it had all happened. He momentarily tightened his hold on her, reminding her she wasn't alone in this. He wasn't sure if it made any difference, but he furiously hoped it did.

He almost lifted her over what had once been her door in order to get inside, since most of the beams and walls of which their house had been built had come down to obstruct their way. She was a little stronger again, but aid was of course welcome. Albus surely understood she really had to do this in order to be able to go on with life. She really needed to say goodbye to the house she had called home, and to her fiancé. Since she hadn't been able to be there at his funeral, Finnley's grave would become their next destination, if at least Minerva was up for it still after this.

Minerva gasped, looking at basically every thing of what had belonged to her and Finnley lay turned over carelessly, as if war had gone on there. She could feel the tentacles of that feeling called pain surround her as suddenly realization downed upon her: there had. A war actually had gone on there. She unconsciously bit down on her lower lip, to keep herself from crying. Finnley had been courageous, so she felt that strange, irrational need to be the strongest she could possibly be right now.

Again she gasped, upon letting her eyes fall onto the shreds of broken glass from the wooden picture frame that had held a picture of her and Finnley together taken on the night he had asked her to marry him. She had said yes, even before his question had been finished. She slowly lowered herself onto her knees in the rubble, releasing her hold on Albus.

He just watched her, as Minerva quietly reached for the picture underneath the chips of sharp glass. She accidently cut the middle finger tip, and winced, retracting it by pure reflex. Bright red blood almost immediately began welling up at the surface of her skin. Albus quietly sat down beside her, supporting her with one hand on the small of her spine, before using an artistic little swipe of his wand at the cut to heal it with magic. Almost at once the skin sealed itself again. The red blood bead disappeared, and for just an instant a thin white line could be seen right where the cut had been, before that as well disappeared, as if nothing had happened.

Minerva didn't look up. She just carefully reached for the picture again, and this time effectively dragged the moving colorless picture from under the shreds of glass without hurting herself. She almost intuitively held the picture to her heart, before lowering her head. Albus could see the effort his former Transfigurations pupil had not to cry in despair at the pain she felt inside upon clutching the picture of her together with her beloved.

Minerva slowly raised her head, looking at what once had been the neat living room. Nothing was still upright. Minerva gasped, and Albus momentarily thought that finally she would let her tears fall, but being a true Gryffindor, she didn't. She wasn't ready yet. She would show her feelings once she had learned to deal with them alone, if ever… Keeping everything bottled up inside wasn't going to be better. He wouldn't watch the battered younger Minerva fall down the abyss without trying to intervene if he could, but – he sighed – for now he would give her the time she needed.

"Minerva?" Albus whispered. "Is there something you would like to take with to Hogwarts?"

She slowly raised her eyes to meet Albus'. Silence fell between both of them. The much younger Animagus then whispered, "Is there even anything left whole?" she asked, and Albus couldn't say whether or not this question was meant rhetorical or not. He sighed once again, before laying his hand atop of hers, patting it, and squeezing. He would have given a lot to change everything, but he couldn't.

"What's left?" Minerva whispered more to herself than anyone else.

[Bola]

Chapter 5

An almost inaudible pop could be heard as Albus Dumbledore suddenly appeared from thin air. A tired and rather weak Minerva McGonagall almost painfully held onto him. Albus wasn't entirely sure about doing this – especially now, but of course the determined Animagus beside him would convince him there really was no need to worry again if he mentioned returning to the castle, and doing this another time. A piece of him had no issues believing how much Minerva wanted this. There maybe was a need for her to do this as well. Saying goodbye was maybe necessary to continue life without him. Another piece of him feared for Minerva's well-being, and feared maybe she wouldn't be powerful enough to take this anymore, since after all it only had been four days.

Minerva began walking, and the quite uncharacteristic slowness with which she moved, together with the way his former Transfigurations pupil heavily leaned onto him, made him worry more. Both made their way through the layer of snow that hid the neatly mown lawn from view, and surrounded everything like a quilt. Albus couldn't say how much time might have passed by the time their feet neared Finnley Ronan's grave, a distance which would have taken him just a few minutes alone, but had Minerva panting with effort, and holding onto Albus harder. He however was sure enough she didn't mean to do this consciously.

Quietly, Minerva then reached for her wand, before raising it into the air, and easily conjuring a bouquet of fresh lilies in white. With another wave of her wand, Minerva slowly moved them to lay atop of his grave. She sighed, before nearing the stone, and carefully wiping away the layer of snow without magic, by just using her bare finger tips. She couldn't care less about cold or anything as relatively meaningless. Albus just watched, with mere lines of worry etched on his forehead. Minerva's behavior didn't show anything but defeat, and lethargy, and numbness. She hadn't even shown so much as a flinch when the icy cold snow had come into contact with her supposedly warmer finger tips, and that certainly worried him.

Deep inside Minerva McGonagall must be hurting like hell, maybe wondering if tomorrow or any day after might be worth it, but she didn't show it. Minerva Gaia McGonagall had once been a lively, and passionate woman bordering on thirty, but nothing of that felt true to either any longer. Whenever Albus eyed her now since that one, conscious night, he must admit to himself that never before had he seen Minerva looking so old, and battered. A piece of the natural McGonagall beauty she had had, had been lost that night, and never would she be able to regain it anymore. She appeared at least forty-five right now, even though in reality she hadn't actually reached the line of thirty. He would never tell her that, though.

No one would have guessed she had actually been all that once upon a time, before Voldemort himself had destroyed every little thing she had once held dear, and maybe still did even though she never would get the chance to capture it again. Even though Albus furiously hoped she soon would be more like herself again, he internally feared that a piece of her never would be the same again. Minerva McGonagall never would be the same sometimes silly witch again.

"Minerva?" he whispered, but she didn't give any indication of having heard him.

She barely felt the cold nightly wind deliberately picking up pace, and whipping around them more aggressively. The fabric of her deep black robes strained around her taluses. She barely registered that. The marine blue sky above them was littered with stars that night, and there were almost no clouds. The crescent above them faintly illuminated the Earth with its white glow.

Her teal green eyes trailed to the fingers of her left hand, that still rested upon Finnley's gravestone, and had become slightly reddish by the cold. Minerva didn't feel the usual tingling sensation like when you had had snowball fights without wearing mittens. Her eyes slowly trailed further to the base of her left middle finger, and fixed onto the thin silver band. She quietly turned it the way it should be worn with her other hand, and sighed, letting her eyes linger upon the shimmering oval emerald. He often said it fit her eyes, but in fact had Minerva's eyes never really been that shade of bright green, but more teal in color.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to no one in particular, though meant for the man she had loved more than anything else. She would never marry him, she realized.

[Bola]

Chapter 5

An almost inaudible pop could be heard as Albus Dumbledore suddenly appeared from thin air. A tired and rather weak Minerva McGonagall almost painfully held onto him. Albus wasn't entirely sure about doing this – especially now, but of course the determined Animagus beside him would convince him there really was no need to worry again if he mentioned returning to the castle, and doing this another time. A piece of him had no issues believing how much Minerva wanted this. There maybe was a need for her to do this as well. Saying goodbye was maybe necessary to continue life without him. Another piece of him feared for Minerva's well-being, and feared maybe she wouldn't be powerful enough to take this anymore, since after all it only had been four days.

Minerva began walking, and the quite uncharacteristic slowness with which she moved, together with the way his former Transfigurations pupil heavily leaned onto him, made him worry more. Both made their way through the layer of snow that hid the neatly mown lawn from view, and surrounded everything like a quilt. Albus couldn't say how much time might have passed by the time their feet neared Finnley Ronan's grave, a distance which would have taken him just a few minutes alone, but had Minerva panting with effort, and holding onto Albus harder. He however was sure enough she didn't mean to do this consciously.

Quietly, Minerva then reached for her wand, before raising it into the air, and easily conjuring a bouquet of fresh lilies in white. With another wave of her wand, Minerva slowly moved them to lay atop of his grave. She sighed, before nearing the stone, and carefully wiping away the layer of snow without magic, by just using her bare finger tips. She couldn't care less about cold or anything as relatively meaningless. Albus just watched, with mere lines of worry etched on his forehead. Minerva's behavior didn't show anything but defeat, and lethargy, and numbness. She hadn't even shown so much as a flinch when the icy cold snow had come into contact with her supposedly warmer finger tips, and that certainly worried him.

Deep inside Minerva McGonagall must be hurting like hell, maybe wondering if tomorrow or any day after might be worth it, but she didn't show it. Minerva Gaia McGonagall had once been a lively, and passionate woman bordering on thirty, but nothing of that felt true to either any longer. Whenever Albus eyed her now since that one, conscious night, he must admit to himself that never before had he seen Minerva looking so old, and battered. A piece of the natural McGonagall beauty she had had, had been lost that night, and never would she be able to regain it anymore. She appeared at least forty-five right now, even though in reality she hadn't actually reached the line of thirty. He would never tell her that, though.

No one would have guessed she had actually been all that once upon a time, before Voldemort himself had destroyed every little thing she had once held dear, and maybe still did even though she never would get the chance to capture it again. Even though Albus furiously hoped she soon would be more like herself again, he internally feared that a piece of her never would be the same again. Minerva McGonagall never would be the same sometimes silly witch again.

"Minerva?" he whispered, but she didn't give any indication of having heard him.

She barely felt the cold nightly wind deliberately picking up pace, and whipping around them more aggressively. The fabric of her deep black robes strained around her taluses. She barely registered that. The marine blue sky above them was littered with stars that night, and there were almost no clouds. The crescent above them faintly illuminated the Earth with its white glow.

Her teal green eyes trailed to the fingers of her left hand, that still rested upon Finnley's gravestone, and had become slightly reddish by the cold. Minerva didn't feel the usual tingling sensation like when you had had snowball fights without wearing mittens. Her eyes slowly trailed further to the base of her left middle finger, and fixed onto the thin silver band. She quietly turned it the way it should be worn with her other hand, and sighed, letting her eyes linger upon the shimmering oval emerald. He often said it fit her eyes, but in fact had Minerva's eyes never really been that shade of bright green, but more teal in color.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to no one in particular, though meant for the man she had loved more than anything else. She would never marry him, she realized.

[Bola]

Chapter 6

Minerva's forehead pulled together in lines, sweet pooling onto it as she continually tossed and turned, tangling into the sheets of her bed in the tower of the Headmaster. Poppy had released her from Hogwarts' hospital ward that morning before the pupils' arrival.

She had sat with her former Professors at the lengthy staff table. Albus had offered her a room in his quarters, since she basically had nowhere else to go. She would remain there until finding the strength to take up her life again, and rebuild everything which she had lost by Voldemort's hand himself.

Her teal green eyes fluttered rapidly behind her eyelids, before bursting open wide as she suddenly jolted upright in bed, panting heavily. Minerva intuitively reached for her heart, as it pounded fast against her chest. She uneasily gulped for air, and tried to get her breathing to normal again. Mere minutes passed by until the unfortunate Minerva suddenly registered how dry her throat actually was. She slowly moved her legs to the side of her bed, and shoved herself further to the edge, before letting her feet both touch the wood underneath, and heaving herself upright.

She intuitively raised her hand to the side of her head, as many lights began popping inside it. Minerva's head felt unbelievably heavy, as she slowly made her way to the bathroom that was right beside her temporary little bedroom in the old Headmaster's tower. Quietly she pushed open the door, and immediately walked over to the washbasin. She turned open the tap, and just let the water run for a little while, before cupping both of her hands under it, and splashing some of the fresh, cool water into her face.

She turned off the tap, and slowly raised her eyes again to look at her reflection in the mirror before her. It hadn't been the very first time she had had nightmares ever since that unfortunate night now twenty-three days before, but it had certainly been at least some nights everything had been so vivid again. She had relived everything all over.

Her teal green eyes quietly searched the bathroom for a cup, or something she could possibly use as such. She couldn't find anything suitable. Too exhausted to wander back into her room to get her wand, and conjure one from thin air, Minerva sighed, before opening the tap again, and using her hands to cup some water in it, and raise it to her lips.

She slowly repeated the motion until she no longer felt thirsty, and turned off the tap once more. She then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and rose. Intuitively her hand reached for the side of her head again, as a wave of nausea overwhelmed her suddenly. It wouldn't be a first if Minerva ended throwing up in the bathroom after a nightmare, and thus she turned, and fell down on her knees before the toilet, shakily raising the lid before puking. The taste of acid remained in her mouth as she slowly raised her head again, and flushed.

She just sat there for a couple of minutes after having lost the remains of her meal from last night, before raising to her feet and turning to the washbasin again. She really wanted to rid her mouth from the dirty, acid taste. Minerva didn't take the time to cup water in her hands, and lift it to her mouth this time, but just lowered her head underneath the stream of water. She let some of the liquid into her mouth, before rinsing, a couple of times, until she no longer felt that particular, dirty taste of vomit anymore.

She quietly returned to her bedroom, and sat on the edge of her bed, momentarily letting her gaze wander over the hands of the clock on her oaken night table. It showed only five in the morning, which was really too late to fall asleep again, but too early to get up as well. She fell down onto the bed again, and sighed. She quietly shook her head as numerous thoughts ran through it. It just couldn't be, could it?

By seven, more light had made its way through the curtains, and had enlightened most of the quarters Minerva temporarily used. She sighed, before raising herself off the bed, and lethargically finding something to wear, before effectively pulling it on. She didn't particularly feel like going down for breakfast. Of course Albus would notice, but Minerva had other worries on her head right then.

She sighed, before leaving her rooms, and walking down to the infirmary. Poppy Pomfrey had been pupil at Hogwarts together with Minerva, even though Poppy was about five years her junior. She however was a very adequate nurse, and matron. She usually didn't ask a lot of questions, but just tried her best to aid. That's what the quite worried Minerva McGonagall sought for. She could confide in Poppy, and hopefully she could give her the reassurance she needed.

Poppy's brown eyes showed shock as the Animagus walked into the infirmary. She almost immediately finished making the beds neater than was already the case, and hurried over with worry etched onto her forehead. "Minerva? What's amiss?" she questioned.

Minerva's eyes fell shut, and she slowly took a very deep breath. There were of course more reasons that could cause this, like the stress of the last couple of days. Even though that was of course a very reasonable thing, she just had to have the reassurance. Minerva's eyes opened, and she nervously chewed her lip, before saying, "Poppy… I'm… I'm late…"

[Bola]

Chapter 7

Minerva sat on the edge of the bed beside her, while watching nervously at Poppy.

Poppy noticed, and whispered, "I'm almost sure it is the stress that's been thrown at you lately, Minerva. Everything's going to be just fine," she said, dipping the test-strip into the container with Minerva's urine, and holding it into the liquid for five seconds. "That just means the urine is being absorbed," she added, seeing Minerva's eyes widen as suddenly the end of the test-strip turned pinkish, before lifting it from the container again.

She quietly put the container aside on the white night table, before sitting down beside Minerva on the edge of the bed. "We just have to wait about two minutes," Poppy whispered, lowering the test onto a piece of paper towel into her lap so both could perceive the changes immediately.

"I have never been late more than even one day in all my life, and…" Minerva uttered worriedly, eyes fixed onto the test in Poppy's lap.

"You haven't been unsafe lately, have you?" Poppy asked, and her voice suddenly sounded higher than usual. Minerva didn't fail to notice that change, and that didn't particularly make her any calmer either.

"I have…" She sighed, before lowering her head into her hands. "Finnley and I were hoping for a baby…"

"Oh Minerva…"

Minerva's head shook, before she slowly raised it again, and shock took over her being, seeing a light blue line appear into one of the windows on the test. "What's that?" Minerva questioned, pulse racing.

"That means the test's working," Poppy reassured, almost intuitively reaching for the other woman's hand, and squeezing it lightly. She really tried to hide the fact that her pulse too began racing. It wouldn't be much longer anymore until both women would be able to read the result of the test, and be able to say if Minerva actually was with child or not. She internally hoped for the latter, well aware how difficult it would make things.

"When…?" Minerva began, shakily.

"Soon."

Minerva nervously chewed her bottom lip, keeping her eyes focused onto the test. Another surge of fear coursed through her being, as a light blue sign appeared into the other window. She shrieked. "What's that?"

Poppy's thumb slowly slid aside to show her that according to the key of the test, a minus meant that the test was negative, and a… Minerva gasped, before raising her eyes to meet Poppy's. Poppy swallowed. "Is there any possibility that this thing could be mistaken?" Minerva asked, voice shaking under the load of emotions running through her. Her teal green eyes almost begged the nurse to say anything else but no.

Poppy swallowed again. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "There's a chance this thing," she said, shock taking over her speech as well, and keeping her from using the correct medical names, "may miss…"

"Please do another one then," Minerva breathed.

"Minerva," Poppy said. "It rarely happens that false positives occur with this method of testing."

"I don't care," Minerva said, eyes never leaving the light blue plus screaming at her, telling her that indeed she was with child, just like she had already feared. "Please…" she begged. Poppy's fingers tightened around hers, she felt. She wasn't really doubting the result.

"I'm sorry," Poppy whispered. "I… I cannot even begin to imagine just how difficult it must be for you, to carry his child, when he's no longer there to share it with you…"

"Poppy," Minerva whispered. "That's not really my main worry now…" She then took a rather deep breath to voice that which Poppy seemingly hadn't thought about, but was what actually made Minerva panic. "What if… What if this little one isn't Finnley's, but…" She didn't need to finish that, for Poppy had already covered her mouth with her hand to keep another gasp of shock unheard. "What if this baby's his?" she voiced. "I'll never be able to love this child, even though its innocence. I'll just see him again…" She swallowed, before continuing in a more serious, less panicked, softer tone, "Is there any way to tell…?"

Poppy's head shook. "I'm afraid not, Minerva… I would have… There isn't any way to make sure until you have given birth…" Minerva just nodded, and a silence fell between both women. When Poppy could no longer bear it, she continued, "Minerva… There's… We could make it undone, if…"

Minerva's head immediately shook in reply. "I would never be able to forgive myself if it had been Finnley's…" she whispered, choking back a sob from pure despair. "He really wanted to become a father…" Poppy nodded, hoping that sooner or later her tears would begin to fall. She appeared to be in shock right now, and that didn't particularly make Poppy feel more comfortable about the situation. "What if this baby's his, though?" Minerva repeated.

[Bola]

Chapter 8

Months passed by very fast, in which Minerva McGonagall's body slowly got used to that other life inside her. By Halloween, it had become quite a lot colder. Minerva usually hadn't been the one to huddle up at night before a fire, but the little human being developing inside her womb appeared to have changed that. She sighed, letting the book into her lap fall shut, before letting her eyes wander to the fire before her, to the red and orangish flames that happily licked at the logs, and spread heat over the quarters. Minerva quietly put aside her book, and shoved it up on the table beside the chair in which she sat. Below in the Great Hall a little Halloween party was going on. She hadn't really felt like going there, but by this time the loneliness began sneaking up on her. She sighed once more, before heaving herself upright, and wandering into her bedroom.

She hadn't in these near two months in which she had known about the life inside her, quite gathered the strength to share this news with Albus yet. He had been there for her ever since that one unfortunate night, and there likely wasn't anyone she could possibly trust more, with the exception of maybe Poppy Pomfrey. She turned this way, and that, eyeing her reflection in the mirror. Almost as in afterthought, she slowly put her hand across her tummy, and rubbed it almost absent-mindedly, innumerous thoughts immediately running through her. She again turned before the mirror, and definitely determined that she wasn't even showing just a little yet.

Even though in fact she didn't have any responsibility toward him, she really wanted to tell him about the baby before the day Albus would notice himself – even though the fact her usual wide robes left a lot to the imagination. Something inside her head told her that was the least that she could do, after he had let her into his thoughts, and quarters. She sighed once more, before reaching for the lengthy emerald green dress that hadn't even been worn yet. Minerva's thoughts then trailed to what used to be her home. Nothing had been left to rescue from the ruins – not even anything of her clothes. The Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort himself just hadn't left anything untouched, and unfortunately since their magic was much darker than the one their side of the battle used, nothing could be restored from it either. Maybe fortunately for her she hadn't had the means to buy any kind of jewelry. Something you didn't have, was something you couldn't lose either…

As Minerva almost carelessly threw her emerald green dress on the bed, she vaguely noticed the picture of Finnley and herself sitting on the oaken night table. She had given it a new wooden frame. That had been one of the few things she actually had rescued from the ruins of what used to be her home.

Some things just had a more sentimental meaning to her, even though the damage couldn't be restored anymore. Minerva quietly reached for the silvery white dress at the end of the bar from which her attires cascaded down from their pegs. She slowly tightened her hold around the peg, and lifted the torn wedding dress from the high oaken wardrobe. She sat down on the edge of the bed with the dress in her lap.

She had inherited it from her mother that day Finnley had asked her to marry him. She would have worn the dress to her wedding. Her lengthy darker hair would have been pinned up loosely. Nothing of that would happen anymore, she thought with sadness, lowering her nose into the fabric, and vaguely smelling home again.

She pig-headedly suppressed the need to hoist herself into the dress, and hung it back, before getting herself into the emerald green dress which she had picked to wear earlier. Getting it onto herself didn't seem so easy anymore as before, and Minerva quietly wondered if – even though her abdomen didn't appear any less flat than before – maybe she had gotten more weight overall.

Struggling with the zipper on the side for a few minutes, she then reached for her wand, and easily waved it to aid her in pulling up the zipper to below her axilla. She almost immediately felt as if she was actually wearing a corset, and waved her wand once more to make it more roomy so that she could breathe again. She exhaled. It might not make everything better, but thank goodness for magic.

[Bola]

Chapter 9

She hadn't made it.

Right when Minerva McGonagall had pulled open her door to get going to the little Halloween party down in the Great Hall, another wave of nausea had come washing over her, and had her hurrying into the bathroom again to throw up. It occasionally occurred that she ended up retching even after noon, even though not very often. She weakly supported herself by holding on to the edge of the toilet, and spit into the water below, doing her best to rid herself from that disgusting, burning feeling in her throat, and the taste of acid in her mouth.

She could hear the sound of footsteps in the hallways below, and quietly assumed that if she had gotten down, she would have been late for most either way. She easily conjured a beaker of cold water in her hand, and lifted it to her lips. She then rinsed her mouth, and spit into the toilet, before flushing.

She would have been dumb, hadn't she anticipated that knock to her door, when most of the pupils' footsteps had already died away. Minerva slowly rose to her feet with a lot of effort, and made the beaker she had used to rinse her mouth with disappear by one easy flick of her wand, before taking a breath, and walking into her chambers. "Come in," she called, and was surprised to hear just how weak her voice sounded.

Slowly the door to her quarters cracked open to reveal none other than Albus Dumbledore, as if she couldn't have guessed. "Minerva. You weren't down in the Great Hall tonight. I just wanted to see if you were doing alright."

"Come in," Minerva repeated, and gestured to the couch at the fireplace. Dumbledore quietly walked further into the room, and shut the door after him, before making his way to the couch Minerva had indicated. He didn't sit until she did.

"You look rather pale," Dumbledore said, and furrowed his brow, eyeing her.

Minerva nodded. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I couldn't make it. I was… but I'm fine now."

"I'm sorry to say, but you don't look fine," Dumbledore commented, more by intuition than anything else reaching up to feel her forehead like he would do with anyone else he cared for like that. He just sighed with worry before pulling back. "I'm worried about you," he admitted. "I certainly see that you need the time to heal, but you haven't eaten well for months, and seem to have lost of your appetite even more since the pupils' arrival. Do you maybe feel unsettled with them all over here? If that's the case, then certainly I could have one of the House Elves..."

Minerva sighed, shaking her head already in denial. "That's not it, Albus – well, not everything. Of course I haven't quite…healed of what has occurred, and, and…maybe I never will." At that, Albus just offered her his hand. She gratefully took it. "I still miss him so much it is ridiculous. People say it gets better, but it doesn't. It just gets different, that's all."

Albus lightly squeezed her hand. "Please don't push yourself so hard, Minerva. You should allow yourself some time."

Minerva McGonagall momentarily sniffled, but more than that didn't happen. "I…" she began. "Albus, there's something that I would really like to tell you before I no longer have to do it. I have known for a while…" She quietly allowed her eyes to wander up, and connect with his. She could see the lines of confusion upon his forehead. She swallowed, before taking another deep breath, and saying, "I'm expecting." Albus Dumbledore remained quiet, as if getting accustomed to the idea of Minerva soon showing evidence of another human being slowly developing inside her – he could imagine her waddling through the corridors of Hogwarts while supporting her belly with one hand, or both. "Please…say something," Minerva whispered, not being able to see through him.

"I'm taken aback," Albus admitted. "I never would have guessed, but it surely makes it easier to get some things. Thank you for sharing the news with me."

Minerva nodded. "I wanted to tell you before I'm showing." Albus nodded, too. A lot of thoughts crossed his mind. She had locked herself up into her quarters most of the time. Of course it didn't take longer than that for Albus to figure when this child could have been conceived. Hadn't she been…? Had she, and Finnley…? "I'm not sure about the father…" Minerva admitted, gazing down. Albus again squeezed her hand. "Poppy's said that there's no way…to figure…who the baby's father might be until I have given birth." Albus nodded. "I…I couldn't get it over my heart to…"

Albus again nodded, and pulled her against himself. She immediately let her eyes fall shut feeling the warmth of him, that usually appeared to comfort her by itself. She however didn't mind feeling his pats of reassurance either. She shouldn't have anticipated any different from him, yet she had been somewhat afraid for his reaction either way. She should have told him sooner. It might have saved him a lot of worrying. He didn't ask a lot of questions like most would have done, which was fine with her.

"I still miss him so much it is ridiculous. People say it gets better, but it doesn't. It just gets different, that's all." - what Maggie Smith said after the death of her husband.

[Bola]

Epilogue

! Kleenex may come in useful.

Minerva McGonagall slowly turned this way, and that, gazing at her reflection in the mirror before her, before letting her eyes wander down to her belly. She intuitively supported it with a hand, and chuckled. She had become quite a bit larger in the past couple of months, and by this time her usual darker robes occasionally failed to hide that fact when she moved, and the fabric casually strained against her curves. She no longer just walked, but waddled through the corridors, and it often took her mere minutes to get up without aid. Albus often helped, though. He sometimes liked to pat her belly teasingly, and feel the baby moving about.

Minerva quietly turned to face her bed, when suddenly a quite heavy kick came. The hand that laid upon her belly tightened, as she intuitively curled the fingers of her other around the edge of the bed to support herself. It had begun with little moving, soon becoming powerful enough for others to feel it, and as of late even see it on the surface of her near huge belly. Now near the end of her supposedly nine months of carrying the child into her womb, his or maybe her kicking had become uncomfortable and sometimes even quite painful. She really hoped it would be a baby girl, because for one reason or another she didn't believe that she could bear it if the child would look like her deceased fiancé…or Voldemort. She certainly hoped even far more it would be Finnley's, and not…his.

She straightened once again. "You're getting heavy, little one," she whispered, carefully patting her belly, before walking to the edge of the bed, pulling aside the covers, and uneasily sitting down. She sighed, and ran her fingers over her belly momentarily, before laying down on her side, and pulling up the covers before settling pseudo comfortably. Comfortable was no longer an option.

She tossed, and turned. She didn't fall asleep. Another even heavier kick came, and she tightly shut her eyes, dealing with the pain that remained after the kicking. Minerva panted, and puffed. She sighed, and moaned. "You're just…" She couldn't do anything but swallow the rest as suddenly the not so unfamiliar pain in her already painful lumbar region came across. "You cannot be serious…" she groaned. A bit of rest appeared no option either.

She in annoyance threw aside the sheets, and miserably heaved herself upright in the bed. Minerva quietly eased her legs over the edge of the bed, and used both fists, pushing them into the bed on each side of her, getting up. She momentarily wobbled, before waddling over to the door. She wasn't really sure why she had moved into the direction of the corridor to begin with, but upon seeing the lights shimmer from underneath the door to Albus' quarters, what said Headmaster Dumbledore hadn't quite gone to bed yet either, she intuitively moved further into that direction, and rapped cautiously onto Albus' door. "Enter," it sounded, and thus she quietly did.

"Minerva," it came, quite astounded.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I couldn't fall asleep," she said, automatically patting her belly, "I didn't mean to… I just… I just saw that your light was…"

"Ah, I see. Little one's not quite agreeing with your schedule," he said. "I would offer to share with you a bottle of Firewhiskey, but of course that's not acceptable. Would you care for a game of chess then?" he suggested. "At least until that little boy or girl is tired enough to give you a bit of rest? I wasn't going to bed anytime soon either way."

Minerva smiled. "That would be very nice," she said, and heavily leaned onto the edges of the armchair, before lowering herself into it. She gasped, eyes falling shut almost immediately, one hand reaching to support her belly. She then inhaled, and exhaled a couple of times deeply, before letting her eyes open again to look at Albus, whose eyebrow worriedly quirked.

"Minerva, are you quite well?" he questioned, before quietly summoning the board from its usual shelf by a most lucid wave of his hand. It wouldn't be the very first time that a game of chess late night between them occurred. Them both would sometimes just discuss Transfiguration or another subject until unacceptable hours of the night, too.

"I'm fine," she replied. "I'm just… I'm a whale!" She chuckled, too.

"You radiate," Albus said. "When he's not kicking you."

"He?" Minerva asked, this time her eyebrow doing the quirking.

"By lack of certainty about the gender," Albus said, and chuckled.

Minerva nodded, then averted all her attention to the board before her. She momentarily thought about every possibility, and quietly made her move. She, used to Albus' technique, settled deeper into the armchair, and watched the lines on his forehead crease as he carefully considered every option like usual. It somehow felt better to have her spine pushed against the back of the chair. A furrow creased her brow, when she suddenly felt something trickling between her legs. Great, now I just peed my panties.

Albus must have noticed, too. "Minerva? What's the matter?"

She didn't immediately reply. She just carefully resettled a bit, feeling a gush of water come forth. Minerva's mouth had formed this o of shock, feeling the water pore down her leg, and sudden realization dawn that this couldn't be pee anymore. It must have been…

"Minerva?"

---

"Walking's better," Minerva whispered, between panting. She slowly shoved herself to the edge of the bed, and again used her fists to get up like she had soon enough learned to be the easiest if no one was there to aid her. There were however Poppy, and Albus, but she candidly refused to hold onto them just to get up. Even in between her heavy labor pains, at seven centimeters dilation, she was going to be pig-headed.

Nine hours had passed by since Albus had taken Minerva to the infirmary, where Poppy had easily confirmed that indeed Minerva's water had broken, which said she must have gone in labor. Albus hadn't left her side since then. He had offered her his hand to squeeze multiple times, but she had refused it. Albus again neared her to give her support to get upright, but she resolutely pushed him away. Poppy's eyes rolled. When Minerva however felt wood underneath her feet, her immediate reaction was to reach over for Albus. He carefully supported her, and was surprised to notice she happily allowed it. "I'm okay," she whispered, letting Albus hold one hand, while another supported her belly. She quietly began walking, Albus right by her side. Whenever she was laying, she wanted to be walking, and whenever she was walking, she wanted to be laying.

They set off for another bit of walking about the infirmary. To especially the relief of Minerva herself, no one else was in the infirmary but them. Minerva and Albus walked very slow, but Albus didn't mind. He just held her hand, and supported her weight, just walking half beside, and half behind her. Suddenly her breathing came more heavily and ragged, and Albus knew what was going on. He intuitively tightened his hold on her, as Minerva's eyes squeezed shut, and she began panting for her life again. She doubled over with the intensity of the contraction, and for the very first time ever since she had gone in labor, squeezed Albus' hand hard. "Would you like to sit?" he questioned, watching as she immediately shook her head.

Poppy rushed by their side, moving to support Minerva's other side, but Minerva's hand rose for her not to touch her, before turning to Albus, and burying her face in his chest. Albus and Poppy shared a look, and Poppy quietly began massaging her painful lower back. "You're shivering," Albus said, never having let go of her hand. He tenderly stroked away a wisp of ebony hair from her sweaty forehead.

As the pain suddenly eased again – although not the one in her lower back – she slowly straightened herself up, and began walking in the direction of the bed again, never once letting go of Albus' hand. He thus was bond to follow, as if he wouldn't have otherwise. They again walked very slow, just on Minerva's pace. When they eventually reached the bed Minerva had occupied, Albus helped her to sit on the edge, while Poppy thoughtfully reached for the wet towel, and put it on her forehead, before hurrying away to get whatever, or maybe just to leave the two alone.

Albus quietly helped her to lay on her side, Minerva holding onto the towel on her forehead. As she had settled as comfortably as was possible, she tiredly eyed her companion. "You don't have to…" she whispered, and reached for his hand, as another milder contraction coursed through her. Her eyes again squeezed shut.

"Would you like me to go?" Albus questioned, willing to obey a woman in labor's wishes.

Her eyes fluttered open tiredly to look at him, and she slowly shook her head. "No, but I can imagine it isn't really first on your list to be with a woman in labor." She lovingly patted her belly. It wouldn't be much longer anymore. Soon enough, she would finally be rid of that belly, and be able to hold her son or daughter in her arms after nine months of having carried him or her with her. A tear slipped past her barrier, and she intuitively batted her eyelashes a couple of times to keep more at bay, when she suddenly admitted, "I'm terrified, Albus."

Albus quietly reached for her cheek with his free hand, using his thumb to stroke away the tear that had come from her eye. "Of the pain?" Albus questioned, however already aware of the answer.

Minerva's head shook. "I'm not terrified of the pain, even though this is the most uncomfortable I have ever felt in my life. My back's killing me. I'm just… I'm scared, that it isn't Finnley's. I'm scared that if it actually is Finnley's, he or she will remind me too much of what I have lost, and I won't be able to love him or her. I'm scared he or she would look too much like him."

Albus nodded. "You'll make it," he whispered, when Poppy came back hurrying into the room with something that looked like a pot of oil. She settled behind Minerva, and hitched up the nightgown she was wearing, before opening the pot, and taking a bit. She quietly pushed aside the pot of oil, and began massaging her back. At first, Minerva arched away from the touch, and squeezed Albus' hand as the coldness of the oil came in contact with her skin. Eventually, she arched into the touch, for it sure seemed to aid with the pain.

The sound of the door opening interrupted them. All eyes shot up to meet two first year Ravenclaws. Both seemed covered in ugly lilac bubbles. They remained waiting in the door. "Oh boy," Poppy whispered, getting up from behind Minerva, sharing a look with Albus. "Continue," she said to him, before walking in the direction of the two Ravenclaws. She easily waved a wand to let a paravane shield Minerva and Albus from view.

On the other side of the paravane, Albus thoughtfully raised his wand, and cast a strong silencing charm. He looked into Minerva's eyes. She nodded, and thus he quietly got up, and settled where Poppy had sat earlier, beginning to take over the massaging. "That feels so much better," Minerva breathed.

---

"I can't do this anymore!" Minerva screamed, holding onto the sheets so badly that her knuckles had become white. She fell into the pillows again, and uselessly tried to shift in a more comfortable position. "I cannot do this anymore…" she begged, eyes wandering to the man beside her bed, Albus Dumbledore. Eleven hours after Minerva's amniotic fluid had gone, Poppy had confirmed she had finally dilated enough to begin pushing. She had done her best to push with the last two contractions, but I didn't seem, and certainly didn't feel like anything was moving on down there.

Albus' eyes showed worry. She had refused squeezing his hand, or accepting any other aid of him, and this he had just watched – even though tactfully turning away his head every time Poppy had come to check up on her, and the baby's condition – from a chair beside her bed, facing her. He thus was a bit surprised to feel rather than see her hand releasing the pillow to lay upon his. He quietly turned his hand so she could hold onto it, and smiled. "You can," he said, "I'm sure you can," he added, watching Minerva shake her head in something near despair. He could feel her hold onto his hand tighten, and watched how she again squeezed her eyes tightly shut, to deal with the pain of another contraction.

"Push, Minerva," Poppy said.

Minerva just shook her head again, just panting hard until her contraction had gone, and she could open her eyes again. "I can't do this…" she begged, eyes wandering from Poppy over to Albus, and then to the nurse again. Involuntary tears coursed down her cheeks. "I can't do this…" she repeated once again.

Poppy sighed. "Would you like to try another position?"

Minerva's head just shook. She was so exhausted, and in so much pain… Some wisps of ebony had come down from their usual tight bun, and were matted to her forehead, and cheeks, by a combination of sweat, and tears. She couldn't do this anymore. Pushing wasn't really helping either way.

"You have got to push, or…"

Another high pitched scream interrupted her, as another heavy contraction announced itself. "Come on, Minerva," Albus whispered. He rose, never releasing Minerva's hand, and sat down onto the side of her bed. Her eyes had fallen shut again. She intuitively rose a bit, and clenched together her teeth, to push. Albus and Poppy momentarily shared a look of relief. Another scream announced the end of the contraction. Minerva's eyes tiredly fluttered open, and she almost immediately noticed Albus' new position. She smiled, before averting her attention to Poppy.

"You're advancing," she confirmed. "I can already see the head."

"You're doing wonderful," Albus whispered.

---

"Argh!" she screamed, then fell into the pillows entirely soaked with sweat after having been in labor for near thirteen hours, of which almost two pushing. Minerva rather felt than saw something wasn't entirely right, though. She barely got to open one bleary eye to look at the baby. "W-What's going on?" she questioned, but by then Poppy already had disappeared with the baby, too fast for an exhausted Minerva to notice the unique blue color of asphyxia. No screams were being heard.

Minerva immediately rose in panic. "What's going on?" she questioned, especially alarmed because Poppy hadn't said anything.

"Shh," Albus comforted. "Everything's going to be alright," he whispered, and carefully guided her to hide in his chest. Minutes ticked by in which Poppy's – and of course the new little one's – absence did nothing but cause more panic within them. Albus couldn't deny the feeling within himself either, but he couldn't show Minerva. Albus didn't fail to register the sound of irregular footfalls that announced Poppy and the baby's return. Neither Minerva or Albus could give any estimation of time that had passed until then.

Minerva quietly rose from Albus' chest seeing Poppy from the corner of her eyes, cautiously carrying a bundle which must be her baby boy or girl. Something however was amiss, she saw. Poppy's eyes were puffy, and red. "I'm… I'm so sorry," she whispered, "The… I couldn't save him..." she said, tearing up once again, upon handing him to Minerva. She immediately disappeared again, and Albus suddenly felt the need to go after her, and give her some comfort, but then again Minerva could most likely use it more.

She shivered, just carefully holding the bundle for a while, before reaching up to drag away the tip of the towel that shielded her son from view. She gasped, eying her little boy. He only appeared asleep. She carefully let her gaze wander over the mop of darker hair, the eyes delicately shut, and the very characteristic nose, the lightly parted bluish lips… She quietly let her finger stroke over the fat little fingers, and tiny finger nails. "Finnley's…" she whispered, before letting the tears finally fall.

A couple surely had escaped every now and then, but the howling that emitted from her throat now was just horrible. It conveyed the despair she felt. It just cut through morrow, and bone. Albus quietly guided her into his chest again, to let her finally release the pain. Tears rolled down Albus' cheeks to disappear into his lengthy white beard, too. That's where the base, the deeper, of their companionship lay.

Minerva McGonagall no longer was the same passionate, lighthearted witch ever again.