Post by MinnieQuill on Feb 15, 2007 18:40:35 GMT -5
Goodbye My Lover
Disclaimer: - I do not own any of the Harry Potter Kingdom; nor do I own the song ‘Goodbye My Lover’ by the incomparable James Blunt
Author’s note: - This is probably my favourite James Blunt song, though it has the unnerving ability to make me cry almost every time I hear it. This is just an idea that popped into my head after listening to it. I hope you enjoy it!
Dedication: - This one is for Paula-face and Ashy-babe! Hope you enjoy it!
Albus Dumbledore shivered slightly, and folded his arms across his chest, as he looked out of the window. The trees of the Forbidden Forest stood in crystalline sharpness against the still air of the evening, and diaphanous wisps of clouds floated on the horizon though they did nothing to mask the brightness of the remaining rays of sunlight. His blue eyes roved over the Hogwarts grounds, printing them forever in his cerebral cemetery, before he turned around.
His mouth tightened as he leant against the window sill and surveyed the woman lying on his bed. She lay with one arm outstretched to his now empty side of the bed, her legs curled slightly with her head resting on the pillow. Her black hair, normally held in the tightest of buns, hung loose and fell well past her shoulders to her waist. The lines that creased her face had smoothed in slumber, and she looked nothing less than her namesake as she slept.
Did I disappoint you or let you down?
Should I be feeling guilty or let the judges frown?
He crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. She elicited a small groan of protest as his weight sunk the mattress and opened one of her eyes. A smile crossed her face as she saw him.
“’Lo,” she said softly, her voice still groggy from sleep.
The corners of his mouth curved upward as she moved toward him, and he took one of her hands in his.
“Go back to sleep,” he commanded softly as he intertwined his fingers with hers.
She nodded tiredly, and closed her eyes. Her breathing quickly steadied, and she soon fell into somnolence. He traced the lines of her perfectly manicured hands. Her fingers were long and elegant, like a pianist’s, though stronger. They held no sign of age, and were as smooth as when she was seventeen.
“I’m sorry, Minerva,” he whispered, drawing her hand toward him and placing a kiss on the sensitive skin of her wrist.
'Cause I saw the end before we'd begun
Yes I saw you were blinded and I knew I had won.
He released her hand, and it fell onto the mattress, her fingers curling upward. He leant forward and his fingers traveled over her face, never quite touching. He traced the contours of her jaw, the rise of her cheekbones, and ran his fingers lightly over her hair, knowing that it parted like silk.
The light had faded as the sun sunk below the horizon, and the room was thrown into sudden darkness. He waited until his eyes adjusted, and reached into his robes and withdrew a delicate gold chain, through which an emerald and gold ring was threaded. The clasp was silent as he took the chain off, and removed the ring. It was distinctly feminine, with a singular emerald in the centre flanked by two small diamonds. She had given it to him over fifty years ago; now he would be returning it to her.
So I took what's mine by eternal right.
Took your soul out into the night.
He reached for her hand once more, and slipped the ring onto the middle finger of her right hand. It fitted perfectly, and he gently allowed her hand to fall. The ring glittered in the dim light, and a singular tear fell down his cheek and onto the white sheet. More tears followed until a damp patch formed, and his shoulders began to shake with emotion.
His mouth twitched as she rolled over in her sleep and moved closer toward him. Her body lengthened, and her white nightdress clung to her body, accentuating a lithe and limber figure too often hidden behind voluminous and heavy robes.
“Why do you dress like that?”
“Can you imagine the students’ reactions if I didn’t?”
His shoulders shook as grief was overcome by mirth, and he laughed silently as he remembered the way she had raised a sardonic eyebrow, only to smile mischievously and lean forward and kiss the corner of his mouth. He looked down at her face, and his eyes were drawn to her claret lips which belied a sensuality she dulled daily with lipstick.
Her mouth parted as she took a deep breath, and he leant forward and pressed his own lips against hers briefly, savouring the lingering sensation. She smiled in her sleep, and nuzzled the pillow.
It may be over but it won't stop there,
I am here for you if you'd only care.
As he drew back he placed a loose strand of hair behind her ear to grant him a better view of her face.
“Angelic,” he whispered under his breath as she rolled further onto her side.
He rose to his feet, crossed the room, and sat down at his writing desk. His eyebrows knitted as he reached for his quill and drew a blank piece of parchment toward him. The yellowed paper remained blank for several moments as he struggled to find words that would express how he felt.
He took a shuddering breath as he dipped the quill into the ink well, and began the downward stroke of the first letter.
My dear Minerva, if you are reading this, then it is a fair assumption I am no longer part of the living world. I only ask that you move forward, my dear. Find a new love; there are many men who would love you like I do. Do not dwell on the past, when there is a future to be held. Tha gaol agam ort. – Albus
He replaced the quill onto his desk as he waited for the ink to dry on the parchment. His cursive script shone upward at him, and he reached for an envelope and placed the letter inside. He reached for his wand, and a small flash and white light streamed from its tip, making a seal that only Minerva could break. He tapped the letter again, and it vanished onto her bedside table where she would find it in the morning.
You touched my heart you touched my soul.
You changed my life and all my goals.
It had come as a surprise to no one less than himself when Minerva had walked through the wrought iron gates of Hogwarts shortly after her 31st birthday. The year was 1956, and the two had not seen each other since 14 years before hand when he had foolishly let her go. Now he watched as she walked straight past him without so much as a second glance, to Armando Dippet’s office where she was to be granted the DADA Professorship.
He, as Deputy Headmaster, had shown her about the castle, and taken her to her chambers which were situated one floor above his. They had not talked as they walked, the air between them filled with an uncomfortable silence that Minerva had broken when they reached the portrait of the Founders which was the entrance to her chambers.
“How have you been?”
“Good, and you, my dear?”
“I’m better now.”
She had opened the portrait hole and stepped inside before he could fathom the full meaning of three simple words. He had remained outside for several minutes, wanting to knock, but not finding the courage, until he had given up and walked away.
And love is blind and that I knew when,
My heart was blinded by you.
For the next two weeks they had danced around each other, exchanging barely concealed flirtations and lingering touches and glances. Albus once again felt himself falling in love with the much younger women, but it was she who had reignited the relationship that had started in her 7th year at Hogwarts.
She had walked into his office where he was marking papers, and he had barely glanced upward until she cleared her throat loudly. In a fluid motion, her robes fell to the floor in a puddle, leaving her clad only in a thin under dress that did nothing to conceal her figure.
“Minerva, what are you…?”
“I’m sick of this game, Albus.”
She walked behind him, and kissed his neck, sending an entirely non-fearful thrill through his body. His mind screamed at him to stop her there and then, but was ignored as he pulled her onto his lap.
I've kissed your lips and held your head.
Shared your dreams and shared your bed.
From then on, they were never apart at night. They maintained a professional relationship during the day, her sense of professionalism dictated this, and no one, in almost forty years, had suspected they were anymore than close friends.
The castle reconfigured their rooms until she could travel to his through a tunnel that led from her wardrobe into his and visa versa. It granted them an anonymity they both adored, and their secret rendezvous’ were a source of amusement over the many years of their relationship.
A rueful smile played on his lips as he glanced at the woman on the bed. She’d rolled onto her back, with one of hands level with her shoulder, whilst the other rested at her side. He had requested that she stay here tonight, and as always, she had agreed. Now she lay, slumbering quietly, as he tried to halt the cavalcade of events that would soon follow.
I know you well, I know your smell.
I've been addicted to you.
He turned back to the vanity, and his eyes fell on Minerva’s perfume bottle which resided next to her silver hairbrush. His hand reached out of its own accord, and he held the delicate glass bottle reverentially as he squirted some of the perfume into the air. A faint mist fell through the air, and he closed his eyes and turned his palms upwards so the fine droplets fell onto his hands.
The perfume she wore during daylight hours was one he had chosen for her. It had been a 35th birthday present, and whilst Minerva was never one to celebrate getting older, the gift had been met with a raised eyebrow and a small smile reserved only for him. He’d found that her smile was like an elixir, and that over the years his actions, words and thoughts all revolved around the possibility her lips would curve upwards.
Goodbye my lover.
Goodbye my friend.
She was his closest confidante, as well as his lover (the two had never deemed it necessary to get married), and only recently had he begun to keep secrets. They told of no clandestine love affair; but his with-holding them guaranteed her a certain safety. And early heart-ache.
You have been the one.
You have been the one for me.
Their relationship had been forbidden when it first began. She was his student; and he was her Professor. The two had been discussing animagus transformations when she had leant across the desk and kissed him. After a moment’s hesitation, he had returned the kiss until he was certain his mouth was bruised. That evening had led to more clandestine activities, and he gave her the password to his chambers where he was Gryffindor Head. She would travel there after hours in her animagus form, and leave again in the early hours of the morning.
It was there, as he allowed his eyes to travel over her barely clad body that he had told her he loved her. She’d looked at him, grey eyes boring into his, and nodded once curtly. Her affirmation to his statement.
I am a dreamer but when I wake,
You can't break my spirit - it's my dreams you take.
He looked over his shoulder at the beauty on the bed, and watched her chest rise and fall. She inhaled deeply, and as she released her breath, he heard the faint sound of her breathing, little more than a whisper on the wind. He closed his eyes, and listened. Though she always denied it, Minerva purred when she slept, a throwback to her animagus form. The corners of his mouth twitched as he moved forward and conjured a chair from thin air. It creaked softly as he sat down, and he froze, sure that she would wake up. Instead she groaned softly, and turned toward him, throwing her arm out so her fingers were mere inches from the end of the bed.
He leaned forward, and kissed her lightly on the cheek, lingering for longer than was necessary to remember the scent that was uniquely hers.
And as you move on, remember me,
Remember us and all we used to be
“It’s ridiculous how much I love you, Minerva,” he whispered as he held himself above her, scared to touch her, yet not willing to draw back. “Utterly ridiculous.”
I've seen you cry, I've seen you smile.
I've watched you sleeping for a while.
Often he would lie awake, watching her as she slept. The lines that creased her face during the day vanished in slumber, leaving her skin unmarred. A perpetual smile, so rare in her waking state, always played on her lips making him want to kiss her.
I'd be the father of your child.
I'd spend a lifetime with you.
He closed his eyes for a brief moment, regathering his composure as he placed his hand over the small bump of her stomach. She would have some difficulty with the Governors when she announced she was pregnant, but he knew that her infamous temper and rapacious glare would guarantee the continuance of her tenure at Hogwarts.
His fingers splayed over the small bump. The baby was a girl, of that they were certain, and he could imagine her in his mind’s eye. She would have her mother’s looks, but his eyes.
I know your fears and you know mine.
We've had our doubts but now we're fine,
They had debated for many years over whether or not they should have children; but fate had decided for them. Minerva had awoken a month ago, and run to the bathroom where she heaved the contents of her stomach. She’d dismissed the episode as a bout of flu, but when the symptoms continued, she grudgingly agreed to see Poppy.
The school nurse’s scream of incredulous delight alerted him as he walked past, and he ran inside to find Minerva rolling her eyes, whilst Poppy whooped with joy.
“Madame Pomfrey, may I enquire as to the source of your joy?”
“Minerva’s pregnant! With a little girl!”
He’d looked at Minerva in shock, and she’d inclined her head in his direction.
And I love you, I swear that's true.
I cannot live without you.
He drew back, and bit his lip. The bump was barely visible, and Minerva’s naturally slim frame and voluminous robes made it unlikely anyone would notice her pregnancy. Of this he was grateful; the child of Minerva McGonagall and Albus Dumbledore, the most powerful witch and wizard of the generation respectively, would be a force to be reckoned with.
The letter he had written caught his eye, and he summoned it to him, unsealed the letter, and added a post-script.
Call her Catherine.
Goodbye my lover.
Goodbye my friend.
You have been the one.
You have been the one for me.
As he replaced the letter on the bedside table, he shook his head roughly, steeling himself for tonight’s journey.
“Goodbye, Minerva,” he whispered.
He summoned his traveling cloak toward him, and shrugged it over his shoulders. The rich fabric was warm, but a shiver ran down his spine nevertheless.
“Come on, Albus,” he muttered under his breath. “Enough.”
He turned smartly on his heel, marched across the room, and exited the chambers with his head held high.
And I still hold your hand in mine.
In mine when I'm asleep.
He clenched his hand tightly. The touch of Minerva’s soft skin still played on his fingers, and he said a silent prayed to whatever entity that she and his daughter would be safe.
And I will bear my soul in time,
When I'm kneeling at your feet.
The door to his office opened of its own accord, and he sat down at his desk, and folded his hands in his lap. A solitary tear ran down his cheek and Fawkes leant over and peered at him quizzically.
“Do not worry about me, old friend,” he said to the phoenix, who cooed softly, and nuzzled his palm with his head.
Goodbye my lover.
Goodbye my friend.
You have been the one.
You have been the one for me.
He shook his head angrily and rose to his feet in a fluid motion. His boots echoed loudly off the stone floor, as he paced back and forth, trying to dispel his feeling of foreboding. Every instinct screamed at him to turn, run back, and hold Minerva in his arms. He would rock her back and forth as he explained to her why he had to go. They’d argue, scream, and she would probably thrown something at him, only to then make up as only they could.
I'm so hollow, baby, I'm so hollow.
And as they lay before the fire, the dancing light of flame dancing over their bodies, he would say three simple words.
“I love you.”
And she would give her patented response. “Tha gaol agam ort.”
I'm so, I'm so, I'm so hollow.
He heard hammering on the door, and knew that Harry was outside. He halted at the window, and waved his hand.
“Enter.”
The door swung open and Harry burst inside breathing heavily. He turned to face the boy, schooling his face into his usual neutral expression.
“Well, Harry, I promised you could come with me.”
Author’s note:- Yes, no? What do you all think? I hope you enjoyed this little piece. The quote at the end is taken from p. 510 of HBP. Please review. Cheers. Minniequill
