Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

[Nerweniel]

Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

Prologue: Never Be Named Again

The fight was over.
As the sun started to set on that particular summer day, many people realized that the fight was over. The terror was over.
The fear.
Lord Voldemort was dead.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would never be named again.
Lord Voldemort was dead, and the memory of his reign of terror would slowly, slowly fade.
The fear would be forgotten.
Unless in the hearts of them, who had lost someone.
Who had known them, those dead bodies whom had once been laughing, living, loving creatures.
Who had known Ronald Weasley, who had known Remus Lupin, who had known Dean Thomas or Rubeus Hagrid.
Who had known Albus Dumbledore.

Chapter One: She Who Had Survived

“Albus!”
The woman’s cry tore the evening sky apart. Away were the cheers, away was even the sobbing of them who had recognized one of the bodies on the grass- the dead bodies, most of them unharmed, killed by a well-cast Avada Kedavra curse. There was silence now.
Everybody now looked up, and saw.
They saw her.
And they heard her, again.
“Albus!”
With this, a tall, yet slender figure ran past them, crossing the lawn focusing just on one thing. A body- alive, or dead? The spectators did not know- but did she know, after all?
Who was she? In the agitation of the moment, many of the people present firstly mistook her for a ghost- a phantom, something, someone, not entirely of this world. She did look strange, after all, with her long, black-greyish hairs flowing behind her, and her entire face and body covered in mud- and… was that blood, on her left temple? It was, but she did not seem to care.
“Albus?”
Only as she knelt down beside him, beside Hogwarts’ great Headmaster, they recognized her voice. It now was controlled again- not hysterical, as it had been in the first shock. It was the calm, yet determined voice of a woman who had managed to tame generations of Weasley boys –except, perhaps, the twins- and who had survived.
“Albus… Albus?”
Minerva sat down next to him, now. And though she saw the paleness of his face, she knew he could not be dead. She would feel it when he died. She would feel it.
“My God, Albus, what has happened?” she whispered as she carefully laid her hand on his cheek. But she already knew it. Lord Voldemort, before he died, had cast a spell on the Headmaster, on the only man he had ever feared. She hadn’t recognized the spell, which was a good reason to be worried, because there weren’t many spells Minerva McGonagall could not perform.
As he slowly, very slowly, way too slowly, opened his eyes, she bit her lips hard so as not to cry. A little stream of blood flew down her chin, but she didn’t care. She would not cry. Her husband was dying, but this was not a moment to spill tears.
“Minerva?”
His voice was hoarse, yet as clear and friendly as it had always been. But he was weak. She saw it. Weaker than ever, and his cerulean blue eyes were so very far away.
“Minerva, I am dying.” he then, softly, yet matter-of-factly, spoke.
“Don’t say that.” she flatly answered.
“It is the truth.”
“I know, Albus, but please, don’t say it.”
He, despite the situation he was in, chuckled.
“I won’t.” he then promised. “Minerva…”
But his eyes closed again, and Minerva felt, to her great irritation, a tear roll down her right cheek. Just one. Not more.
He was dying.
Albus was dying.
She was to be a widow.
Minerva almost bitterly laughed when she thought about that. She, a widow? Had the world ever known that she was a wife in the first place?
The world.
With this, Minerva remembered the world around her. The people, most of them whom were crying. Crying over their Headmaster and their friend.
She wished she could cry as well. But she knew very well she could not do that. They were looking at her, all of them. Their eyes were pleading. Asking for guidance.
Come on, Minerva spoke to herself as she slowly rose to her feet again. Someone has to be strong, and if it has to be you, so be it.
Responsibility was a strange thing. And promises of long ago could have strange effects later on. Those two things she recalled on that very moment. Her husband was dying. She felt like crying, like yelling, like holding him and begging him not to let go.
But she couldn’t. She just couldn’t.
She had once accepted the post of Deputy Headmistress. It was the path she’d chosen. And she would act according to it.
Then, with a very carefully oppressed shiver in her voice, she almost stately raised her hands.
“Carry the wounded to the castle!”

[Nerweniel]

Chapter Two: The Death In His Eyes

The wizards and witches obeyed her immediately- of course, who else had they to obey? The Minister of Magic was dead. Cornelius Fudge had perhaps made many mistakes during his life, and Minerva had to admit that she had never liked him, yet he had died the death of a hero. There had been more bravery in that clumsy little Hufflepuff he’d once been than Minerva had ever thought imaginable.
Perhaps this had been the best for him. Fudge had never been an evil man, but this, this dealing with the aftermath, would have been too much for him. Especially since Albus…
At this thought, Minerva closed her eyes for a moment and bit her lips.
Albus wasn’t dead yet. He was still alive, and he was now being levitated to the castle. There, Poppy would certainly find a…
But she knew she was soothing herself with lies.
She had read the death in his eyes.
With this thought in her mind, she entered the Hospital Wing, where Madam Pomfrey was pacing back and forth between multiple beds. There were lots of Healers- from St. Mungo’s, Minerva guessed. But here weren’t really many wounded, Minerva noticed. It was no surprise, of course.
Avada Kedavra killed immediately, killed ruthlessly. And luckily, it killed painlessly as well.
Yet that was hardly a comfort.
As Poppy, dark red blushes on her cheeks, noticed her friend, she beckoned. Minerva, slowly, walked between the beds, here and there recognizing people. When she stood before her friend, the Mediwitch sighed.
“Albus.” she then just said, leading Minerva to the corridor again. As soon as they were alone, she flung her arms around her much taller friend’s shoulders.
“Minnie, I am so sorry…”
Minerva sighed, yet managed to smile and gently released herself from her friend’s embrace.
“Don’t be, Poppy. And please- please don’t start crying, or I will start as well and I don’t want to.”
Madam Pomfrey soundly swallowed, yet blew her nose in a large handkerchief, and faintly smiled.
“Alright. Minerva, but before we enter, I have to tell you-“
Yet Minerva bitterly chuckled and interrupted her friend.
“You cannot heal him, Poppy. I know.”
“I am so sorry, Minerva!” Madam Pomfrey repeated, as she, despite her promise, wiped a few tears away from her cheek.
“I wished I could save him, but I can’t. You-Know-Who has used an ancient draining spell on him. Very old dark magic. There is no counterspell.”
“I know.” Minerva repeated.
Yes, she knew, but despite everything, she couldn’t keep herself from hoping.
Wasn’t Albus the most powerful wizard of this time? Wasn’t the fact that he still was alive a good sign?
No it was not. Of course it was not.
That’s what draining spells are about, you idiot.
Yet, as if to silence her mind, she fiercely exclaimed
“Albus may die one day, but this is not that day!”
Poppy comfortingly rested a hand on her friend’s shoulder, and nodded, but there was no hope left in her eyes.
“I hope with you, Minerva. I do so hope with you… Now follow me to Albus. I have put him in a separate room, so he can at least have some privacy. It’s in here…”
She opened a door, and Minerva’s hope disappeared like melting snow.
He wouldn’t heal.
As she saw her husband there, looking so very small in that large bed, looking almost as pale as the white sheets, awake, but his eyes hardly opened, she knew that this was it.
He wouldn’t heal.
Yet, she gritted her teeth and walked forward. As she lightly sat down on the sheets, she squeezed his hand.
“Albus?”
“Minerva.” he recalled, forcing a smile upon his lips, not at all convincing her. His voice was barely more than a whisper. He sounded tired. So very, very tired…
“Minerva, do you remember what I told you, out there?”
“Yes.”
“I am dying, Minerva.” he spoke, honestly.
“I know.” she muttered, not daring to look him in the eyes. She, the so-called brave Head of Gryffindor, was scared of looking her own husband in the eyes. But it was the truth. She feared the death she’d read in them. Yet, impulsively, almost desperately, she exclaimed
“What should I do, Albus? Tell me what to do! Listen, you know that-“
She swallowed and then nodded again, calmly. What she was about to say was the truth. The utter, complete truth.
“You know, Albus,” she slowly repeated, looking into his light, blue eyes, now so heavy with pain.
“You know that I would follow you if you asked me to. In fact, it’s all I want. To follow you where you are going, behind the borders of life.”
Albus slightly chuckled. Minerva raised her eyebrows.
“I am serious, Albus.”
The man in the bed nodded and squeezed her hand.
“I know.” he then spoke seriously. “I know you are, my dear. And I wished it was possible- I wished we could go together as we’ve lived together, but Hogwarts needs you. I need you to become Headmistress, Minerva.”
He tried to sit up in bed, yet had to lie down again with a painful look on his face.
“Lead Hogwarts through the times that are coming. Lead it, not as I have lead it, but as you want to lead it.”
She bitterly smiled and laid her hand on his cheek.
“As if that would not be the way you’ve lead it.”
The man chuckled.
“You are loyal as always, my dear, but I am serious. Lead Hogwarts. Lead our children. And- and Minerva, they will ask you to become Minister of Magic…”
“I do not want to become Minister of Magic!”
“I know. Make sure Arthur Weasley is appointed. He is the man they need now. Help him with his task. Learn our world how to live without them, without us…”
Minerva sincerely nodded and bravely smiled.
“If that is what you want.”
“And then… and then come too me.”
The tears in his eyes were too much for her.
“Albus, I don’t want you to die!” she exclaimed as she felt tears on her cheeks.
“Why… why…”
The man in the bed laboriously stretched out his hand and gently laid it against her wet cheek.
“Because, Minerva.”

[Nerweniel]

Chapter Three: While I Cross The Border

And they sat there, in silence. Was there anything else to say?
Perhaps there was, but a soft, yet firm knock on the door interrupted them, and Poppy Pomfrey’s head appeared. She softly coughed.
“Albus… Minerva… I am so sorry to bother you, now, but here are some people who want to see you… Shall I let them in?”
Minerva hesitated, yet Albus softly squeezed her hand, then nodded.
“Yes, Madam Pomfrey- Poppy. Let them in. I think I know who they are.”
And indeed he knew. The first three people to enter were Severus Snape, nervously twitching his fingers, followed by a Hermione Granger with red, puffy eyes, then a very pale Harry Potter with his arm in a bandage. Behind them followed another three people- Molly and Arthur Weasley, and their only daughter.
As Molly noticed Minerva, she almost ran towards her friend to embrace her.
“Oh, Minerva, dear, I am so sorry for you!”
Minerva stood up, yet softly patted the other woman’s back.
“Don’t be, Molly… How- how are the children?” she added, as she noticed the redness of the woman’s dark blue eyes.
Molly shrugged her shoulders and softly sniffed.
“Well, you know… Ron- Ron has been killed by that… that villain Lucius Malfoy. Charlie attempted to save him, but got killed himself. The twins are injured, but there’s good hope. Bill is alive as well, as is little Ginny over here. And Percy…”
She silently wept in Minerva’s arms as she spoke the name of the son whom had perhaps always been her favorite, despite the things he’d put her through.
“Percy has died with his beloved Minister… But…” she added, and firmly wiped her tears away.
“I shouldn’t be the one complaining here. I still have my husband and four wonderful kids. You are the one…”
Minerva sighed as she sat down on the bed again.
“Oh Molly, don’t say it. We both have our grieves, and none is worse than another. Albus, I…”
But Albus wasn’t looking at her- he was smiling at two other people in the room. Severus Snape and Harry Potter.
“So you have finally forgiven each other, haven’t you?” he, slightly hoarse, spoke, directly addressing the two men.
It was Severus who answered.
“Indeed I think we have, Headmaster. There are some things one can’t do without forgiving each other, and fighting Death Eaters side by side is one of them.”
Harry nodded with a faint smile.
“I believe that’s true, Professor. Professor Snape and I have both made our mistakes. Perhaps this, this battle- fight- thing…”
He started to stammer, but as the Headmaster nodded, he continued
“This battle, which is the end of so many things, can thus perhaps be the start of some things as well…”
The man in the bed softly chuckled as he pointedly looked at Hermione Granger and Severus Snape.
“Yes, I think this battle actually has been the start of something…”
The girl’s cheeks flushed as she hastily withdrew her hand from the Potion Master’s. As she noticed the look in Hermione’s eyes, Minerva really was surprised.
Severus could be a very nice man if he wanted to- she’d known that for many years. Though she, real Gryffindor she was, always had had her prejudices towards him… unjust prejudices, that was… he had, throughout the time they’d worked together, gained her respect. She had learned he could be very kind and friendly, sometimes, but she did not know that Hermione Granger, ever her star pupil, had experienced that as well. Yet apparently she had.
The Headmaster happily sighed and closed his eyes.
“Good. Good. Now I can die in peace…”
Minerva’s heart almost stopped beating.
“Don’t!” she sharply exclaimed, yet then blushed and muttered “Sorry…” as Albus spoke again.
“It is the truth, Minerva, we must- we must admit it, even if we don’t want to. This will be my end, perhaps, but you all…” He addressed all people in the room.
“You all have a future in front of you. And you all have to do something with it, for all others whose futures have been destroyed today.”
He had spoken these words without any bitterness, even without regret, perhaps, and Minerva’s sadness was, for a moment, overwhelmed by admiration for his courage- a courage she knew even she would never be able to muster.
“So what do you intend to do? Harry?
The boy painfully smiled, stroking away his hair from his brow.
“I want to become an Auror, Professor. For Ron. It was our dream. Now… now he will never live to see it, it is my duty to achieve it.”
Molly Weasley soundly blew her nose, and the Headmaster turned towards another person in the room.
“Ginevra?”
Ginny Weasley smiled at this use of her full name and then shrugged her shoulders.
“Whatever Harry does.” she honestly muttered, casting a thin smile towards the boy. “But I will first finish my 7th year, of course…”
Albus nodded and turned his eyes to the next person.
“Severus?”
“I will stay at Hogwarts, naturally.” the Potion Master’s deep baritone voice answered.
“What should I do otherwise? The school needs me and I need the school.”
Albus softly smiled.
“You are loyal, Severus, as you have always been. And indeed, Hogwarts will need you in the days to come, as it has always needed you.”
Minerva cast a thankful look at the black-haired man, as Albus turned towards Hermione.
“And you, Miss Granger, Hermione?”
The girl bit her lips as she stared at her hands.
“I do not know yet, Professor.” she then, sincerely, answered. “But-“
She hesitated as she looked at the Potions Master.
“Yes, of course.“ Minerva hastily spoke, receiving a thankful smile from her star pupil.
“We- I think we understand.”
“And you, Arthur and Molly?” Albus finally addressed the two mourning parents in the corner of the room.
“I believe both I and Minerva have something to ask you.”
Minerva nodded, firmly squeezing her husband’s hand. She knew what he was talking about.
“Yes, Arthur.” she continued. “We want you to become Minister of Magic.”
For a moment, Minerva thought Arthur Weasley would faint.
“I…” he then managed to stammer. “I? But Minerva… I… Minerva, they want you to become Minister… they’ve talked about it, and… and I agree. You would be a much better leader than I’d be… I am totally inexperienced, and…”
“And you are honest, a good man, a powerful wizard and you’d make a great leader.” Minerva firmly settled the matter.
“Besides, I have no intentions whatsoever to leave Hogwarts for all gold in the world!”
Arthur opened his mouth to say something more, but Albus smiled as he took Minerva’s hand once more.
“Don’t try, Arthur, she’s a bloody stubborn thing.” he affectionately spoke, surprising the younger people in the room, whom did not know about their Professor’s marriage.
“But she’s a bloody devoted thing as well. Arthur, listen to the advice of a dying old man, and accept the position. Please.”
And Arthur looked at Molly, Molly looked at Arthur, and finally the man gave in.
“Fine… I will try my best.”
Albus smiled, then closed his eyes.
“And I am sure that’ll be more than enough, my friend. More than- enough…”
Suddenly, all the power, courage, happiness had faded from his voice, and he sounded as, how he’d put it, “a dying old man”.
Minerva soundly swallowed as she, completely unnecessarily smoothed the sheets.
“Albus…” she tried, yet her husband interrupted her.
“Minerva?”
“Yes.”
“I cannot move. Kiss me.”
She slowly bowed and did as he’d asked, almost hearing the jaws of the people present drop in shock. The formidable Deputy Headmistress… kissing her employer? Impossible… or not.
As she looked up again, she saw his eyes and saw the final goodbye in them.
She knew the moment had come, and suddenly, she gave in.
“Albus, don’t… don’t… don’t…”
Her voice was muffled by the sheets she hid her face in, clinging to his arm.
And there was silence.
No-one said anything, except one, last soft mutter of the Headmaster
“Minerva, don’t cry… It won’t be long, my love. And when we’ll meet again, then it’ll be forever, Minerva. Forever.”
And Minerva’s sobs faded.
“Yes, Albus. I believe, I want to believe that it’s the truth. No,” she corrected herself.
“It is the truth. And it won’t be long, my love. I promise you.”
Albus sighed, but it was a contented sigh.
“Good, my love. Now I have only one last wish…”
“And that… and that is?”
“Hold my hand while I cross the border.”
Minerva McGonagall did as he had bid her, and she could not help the tears streaming from her eyes, over her cheeks, on the sheets, as she slowly, slowly felt her husband’s heartbeat fade.
Half an hour later, she felt a soft squeeze in her hand and knew it was over.
Seemingly controlled, yet shaking inside, Minerva stood up and looked on her watch.
He had not died “that day”, she ironically thought.
It was three past midnight.
Then, she slowly turned towards the people in the room, almost all of whom were sobbing themselves.
“Tonight, Albus Dumbledore has passed away.” she slowly, softly, yet matter-of-factly spoke.
“I’ve been his wife for forty years.”

[Nerweniel]

Chapter Four: And Now He Was Gone

Minerva softly closed the door of her quarters behind her, then stood still and listened. No footsteps. Poppy had not followed her, to her great surprise. Good.
With a nervous shrug of her shoulder, she turned towards the room. And gasped, though she did not know why. It was her room, she’d seen it a thousand times. Yet now, it suddenly seemed cold… cold and unwelcoming. And it was empty.
But what had she then expected? Minerva silently scolded herself as she shook her head and sat down. Immediately- as if she’d been stung by a bee- she jumped to her feet again, breathing quickly. Not a bee was present, though.
It was a book.
A very normal, quite old, leather-covered book. “The Founders: Facts” was written on it in dark burgundy letters. But that didn’t matter really. The only thing that really mattered was the simple fact, that Albus, her Albus, had, barely one day ago, sat there, on that very couch, with that very book in his hands.
With a slight movement of her eyebrows, Minerva allowed her trembling hands to open it. Her thin fingers slid over the yellowy pages, until they found the one they’d been looking for. The one where the long, dark blue bookmarker sat. The one Albus had been reading, only one day before…
But she mustn’t think of that.
But what must she think of, then?
With a nervous gesture, Minerva put her forefinger on the soft parchment, and started to read. Read the one passage Albus had underlined, with that strange artifact Muggles usually called a pencil. He must have been the only wizard who’d used it…
Minerva almost smiled as she whispered out loud the words.
“Rowena Ravenclaw,” she muttered. “was a witch with remarkably long, black hair and emerald-colored eyes. She was tall, taller than some wizards even, and her skin had the strange, milky white color so many Scotswomen have.”
And the text went on and on, but those words, those two sentences had Albus underlined. No less, no more. Minerva smiled. She knew why he’d underlined them, why he had even twice underlined the penultimate word. He’d always had an obsession for the Founders- which was only natural, perhaps, as a Headmaster of Hogwarts. And since he’d heard that his wife was one of the last descendants of Rowena Ravenclaw herself…
Minerva sat down as she softly, as if so as not to break the almost holy silence, closed the book. Yes, it was true, Rowena Ravenclaw was a foremother of her. Albus had always been on about how strangely great the resemblance between them was. Minerva, though, had then always dryly commented that he could hardly say anything about a resemblance, since he’d never met Ravenclaw herself. Albus, then, had always grinned and said “but I am married to her, my dear”. Minerva had then always rolled her eyes.
And now he was gone.
As she felt silent tears pricking behind her eyes, Minerva shook her head and gritted her teeth.
Don’t cry. Crying doesn’t help. Crying won’t bring him back.
No, it wouldn’t. Nothing would.
With a desperate sigh, she stood up and, with an almost automatic gesture, turned the door knob and entered the bathroom. She almost shrieked as she saw a terribly-looking, totally creepy woman, standing in the middle of her bathroom. Only three full seconds later, she realized that it was her own reflection in the mirror. She helplessly laughed as she saw her own face. She laughed and laughed, until she realized she was getting hysterical and slapped herself hard in the face. The laughing immediately stopped… only a guilty feeling in her stomach remained. Here she was, laughing, while…
With a slight shook of her head, Minerva narrowed her eyes and examined her reflection. The indeed strangely pale face, now covered in a grayish dust, only interrupted by two single lines, one under each eye, where her tears had rolled down. Her eyes were all red and puffy, stained blood was shattered on a deep cut on her right temple, her hairs were all tangled and loose.
With a slow, mechanical gesture, Minerva took a wash cloth, and started to wash the dirt and blood off her face. It slightly stung, the water in the open wound, but Minerva didn’t even filch. This pain was nothing. Nothing compared to…
After she’d “done” her face, she started to comb her long, black hair with just that tiny hint of grey in it. And then she saw it.
And then she saw it, and the last ruins of what had once been her world collapsed.
Such a silly thing.
But it stood there, there, on her dressing-table, in her bathroom, in her quarters. In their quarters… in the rooms she’d shared with Albus with forty years.
It stood there.
His, his very own, purple, empty cup of hot cocoa.
And she succumbed.
Minerva McGonagall, proud, strong Minerva McGonagall fell on her knees before her dressing table, rested her head on her arms, finally gave in and cried, cried loudly, cried desperately, cried as if her hart had been torn out.
As a matter of fact, it had.

[Nerweniel]

Chapter Five: The Cup And The Cocoa

Minerva McGonagall woke up the next morning in a bed too large for her alone, in sheets too cold for her alone, in a room too empty for her alone. And only then, as she felt the first rays of the still raising sun on her cheeks, as she opened her eyes and looked, right there on her bedside table, straight into the loving blue eyes of the person who had been -no, was!- her husband, Minerva realized that she’d not just lost Albus, but that she’d lost a part of herself as well.
A certain emptiness, a feeling of uselessness, had crept into her heart as Albus Dumbledore had closed his eyes for the very last time, and she knew it would not go away. Oh yes, even the worst pain faded in the end, perhaps, but what she felt went far beyond just pain.
Albus had been everything to her.
And so in the end, she, Minerva McGonagall, proud, independent Minerva, had not been independent after all. She had depended on Albus.
Albus still was everything to her.
And this pain would never fade.
Yet, slowly, feeling every movement scratch straight into her heart, Minerva got out of bed and dragged herself to the bathroom. She didn’t enter, though, for she knew very well she’d collapse again at the sight of his empty cup. That was, by the way, exactly how she felt. An empty cup.
She’d never really liked hot cocoa the way Albus had.
Yet.
She had been the cup and he’d been her cocoa.
So, she sat down on the couch instead. She cried nonetheless.
But she had to be strong. Minerva took her large, tartan handkerchief- oh, hadn’t Albus always made fun of those handkerchiefs of hers? Albus!- and carefully dabbed her eyes.
He hadn’t wanted her to cry, to yell, to get hysterical and to abandon the school.
He had wanted her to be the strong, honest, fair Minerva he had known. He had wanted her to be *his* Minerva.
For the school’s sake.
They had never had children, the Headmaster and his Deputy Headmistress, but they’d always addressed Hogwarts as “their daughter”. They hadn’t known why they’d always called it their daughter, and not their son, but after all, that didn’t matter.
Hogwarts was their, Albus’ and Minerva’s, very own baby, a half-orphan now.
And Minerva couldn’t let her only child down.
For it was all of Albus she still had left.
She sobbed, yet immediately determinedly shook her head.
No. No, that was not true. She still held a part of him, the way he had taken a part of her with him.
And that part would give her the strength she herself lacked. She was a Gryffindor, and she was brave, but for the very first time in her life, she was not brave enough.
But Albus was.
And Albus was with her.
A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, and in a voice weaker than ever, Minerva muttered
“Come in.”
The door went open, and Hermione Granger stood their, in dark blue robes, her brown hairs loosely tumbling down her back. Her face was still tear-stained- she had perhaps not lost a lover, but she *had* lost her best friend on this earth. As had Minerva, in fact.
Minerva had lost both.
But she wasn’t the woman to complain, so she just forced a smile on her face and raised a hand in an inviting gesture.
“Hermione. Have a seat.” she said, for the very first time allowing the friendship she felt for the girl sounding obvious in the way she pronounced her first name.
“Professor McGonagall.” the girl acknowledged, as she obeyed.
Minerva shook her head.
“Minerva will do now. I- I…”
To her great embarrassment, she felt tears drip off her cheeks, and she immediately briskly wiped them away with the back of her hand. But she’d just… she’d just remembered when Albus had first said to her “Albus will do.”. It seemed so long ago, now.
A lifetime ago.
But Hermione didn’t even look surprised, and instead of behaving awkwardly, as Minerva knew she would have done in Hermione’s place, she silently, without trying to comfort her former teacher, embraced the elder woman.
She did not speak a word, for which Minerva was very grateful, because she wouldn’t have known what to say either. She felt Hermione’s own, wet cheek rest against hers, and for a moment they were no longer former student and former professor, but just two women, two women grieving together, two women who knew their losses had left a gap behind that could never be filled.
As they released each other, brown eyes linked with green eyes, and both women uncomfortably smiled, noticing the tears in the other’s eyes, tears that formed, in a way, a kind of comfort. Hermione was the first one to speak.
“I knew it. Of you and professor Dumbledore. I read it in your eyes the very first time I saw you look at him. Professor- Minerva… I am so sorry…”
She sobbed, yet smiled and Minerva smiled as well. She had cried all night- she had no tears left, so what else could she do than smile and be brave, as she’d always smiled and been brave…
“Don’t be, Hermione.” Minerva muttered, though she wondered where this sudden strength came from. Moments later, she knew the answer.
Albus.
And this one word, this one word carved in the inside of her head forever, as it was carved in the thin, silver ring she wore on her ring finger, made her get to her feet again.
“I must get ready now. There are many things to do, and I’ll do them. For Albus.”
Hermione faintly smiled, blew her nose and nodded, then left her former tutor alone.
And Minerva, proud, brave Minerva, felt tears rolling from her eyes again.
“Will this then never stop?” she thought, desperately despite herself.
But she knew it never would.
She knew it, she felt it.
Albus had been a part of her.
A part way more important than an arm, than a leg, than her mind even.
Albus had been her heart.

[Nerweniel]

Chapter Six: Nothing Like The Sun

Yet, though with difficulty, Minerva did enter the bathroom and managed to oppress her tears from falling as she saw the cup again. Perhaps it was true- perhaps she had indeed spilt all tears in her body last night. She so hoped it was true.
Because she didn’t want to cry. Because she knew Albus wouldn’t have wanted her to cry. Because nothing, not even her tears, could ever bring him back to her.
Never.
And that she had to realize, she kept repeating to herself. He was gone and she was still here- she would have to live with it. She felt, with every word, another knife cut straight through the torn-into-two organ that was her heart, but she knew she had to be hard with herself.
She could only hope- and that was, in fact, her only hope- that it was true what her mother had said to her so long ago. That there was a God, there high above. That there was a heaven, far away, where Albus now rested and where she would once rest as well, where she would fling her arms around him once more.
It was little hope, she knew, but it was her only hope.
And Hogwarts needed her now.
As Minerva slowly started to put on a long, black dress –emerald had suddenly lost all of its appeal- she realized at least that one thing.
Hogwarts needed her and she couldn’t let the pain get the best of her. She couldn’t die of grief, she couldn’t “go with him” as she’d always declared she’d do if he died before her. She couldn’t and she wouldn’t. Her head suddenly snapped up as she proudly straightened her back.
Damn sure she wouldn’t.
And with this thought in the back of her mind, Minerva McGonagall left her rooms and decided to do the thing she feared the most the first. Slowly, tremblingly, her hair loosely falling down her back- he had always liked it the most like that…- Minerva headed for the Headmaster’s office.
The Headmistress’s office.
Albus’s office… which now was hers.
Because she, Minerva McGonagall, now was the newly appointed Headmistress of Hogwarts’ School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
This newly dawned realization quite shocked her, for some reason, though she did not know why. It was twenty-eight years now since she’d accepted the post of Deputy Headmistress- and some part of her must have known through all of those years that that meant she’d become Headmistress once. Yet somehow, it hadn’t. She had always been the sidekick, the strong second-in-command, the dependable one whom you could rely on. Whom you did rely on.
Many people had relied on her and trusted her, and she’d had had her say in many things, but this- this new feeling of responsibility, of standing alone- was a new one.
It was true- many times she had supported Albus instead of he her, but in his way, with his chuckled, with the twinkle in his blue eyes which she knew shone for her alone, he had been so much more to her, so much more than even he himself had ever been able to perceive.
Minerva Dumbledore-McGonagall hadn’t *loved* her husband. She had adored him. Minerva had been completely, utterly mad about him with every single fibre of her slender yet tough body.
Illogically, abnormally, crazily mad about him.
Perhaps it was because of that- because the Headmaster had been her husband- that she had never seriously thought about the fact of her succeeding him as the Headmistress.
One didn’t think about the death of one’s beloved.
And after all, who would have expected-
A dry, oppressed sob welled up in Minerva’s throat, and not only because of her thoughts. Also- and mostly, somehow, because of the large, stone gargoyle now before her.
“Nothing like the sun” she uttered.
“My mistress’s eyes are nothing like the sun”… yes, Albus and his Shakespeare. Sonnet CXXX. Ever his favorite.
Minerva slightly sobbed as she remembered, so long ago, the day he’d given her that particular sonnet as an engagement gift. It had been *their* sonnet, *their* poem, for more than forty years. Even their wedding rings had born- bore- the great Shakespeare’s words.
Minerva brought her left hand closer to her eyes as she’d done so many times before and let her mind, again, absorb the text written on it.
“Albus and Minerva 1957”
and then, in miniscule letters carved into the silver
“As long as men can breathe or eyes can see.”
But it hadn’t endured that long… At least, not in life. But in death they would be together again. That Minerva had to remember. She had to- she had to!
Only with the greatest difficulty, Minerva tore her gaze off the thin wedding ring and entered the now open, ebony wood door of his- her!- office. She had not walked two steps when she froze again. The small, golden sign on the large, mahogany desk confronted her once more with the harsh reality. The thing had been bewitched centuries ago, so that it always showed the name of Hogwarts’ present Headmaster. And there, in black, curly letters stood, neatly carven against the gold
“Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry”.
Though the most touching, it wasn’t the only thing that had changed. The desk had apparently been- programmed?- to clean itself after the death of the Headmaster. All Albus Dumbledore’s papers, pictures, books and- of course- his beloved lemon drops now lay neatly piled up in a corner. Ready to remove them.
Minerva knew she’d throw nothing away, though. With something between a smile and a sob, Minerva took up a picture from the floor and carefully placed it back on top of the desk. It was an old picture- a very old picture- but Minerva remembered the day it had been taken as if it was yesterday. The Ball because of the appointment of a new Minister of Magic- Andrenius Theon it had been, in- in 1948.
And so, a young, smiling Minerva McGonagall waved at a much older and much wearier one. The young, auburn-bearded Albus Dumbledore to whose arm she clung smiled and waved as well.
As the older Minerva noticed the sparkle of happiness in the emerald green eyes of the younger one, those very same eyes filled with tears.
“Albus…” Minerva muttered, pressing the picture against her heart with all strength she had left.

~*~

It was like that, sitting on the bare, stone floor with the picture in her hands, slowly rocking back and forth, that Severus Snape found Minerva, an hour later. The stained tears on her face told a story she herself would never tell, and the cold Potions Master felt something in his heart melt.
“Minerva?” he asked, softer than ever before, as he squatted beside his colleague and slowly shook her shoulder.
“Minerva?”
Slowly, very slowly, he saw her “wake up” and she shook her head in surprise as she looked straight into Severus’s black eyes.
“Severus? Was I…”
The Potions Master sadly smiled as he helped her stand up. He was surprised at the apparent weakness of her legs. She leant on him with all her weight, and he had to really support her- otherwise she’d certainly have fallen down again.
A weak Minerva McGonagall was an unusual- weird thing. Severus had known her for many, many years, but this, he had never witnessed before.
“You were quite “out”, I believe, Minerva. No-one… no-one can blame you, of course…”
His voice slightly shook- he would miss the Headmaster, even if he didn’t really show it- but he immediately controlled himself again. He had to ask her something. Something rather difficult, in fact.
“Minerva, I came to- is it alright for you if… the funeral is tonight? The Ministry people will then still be here, so they as well will be able to attend…”
To his great irritation, a tear rolled down his cheek. It was not that he was ashamed for his grief- of course he wasn’t- but yet, his Slytherin spirit somewhat opposed towards the idea of showing emotions... especially- and perhaps he was old-fashioned- when a woman was present.
But he shouldn’t have bothered, because “the woman”, apparently suddenly finding back her strength, walked -floated, almost…- away, only turning around one time to answer.
“Good, Severus. And… Severus?”
The man nodded questioningly, trying to keep down his tears.
Minerva smiled an absent, almost ethereal smile.
“Ask Hermione Granger for the job of Transfigurations teacher and Head of Gryffindor.”
She left her colleague behind- completely dumbfounded.

[Nerweniel]

Chapter Seven: Ashes to Ashes

"Tonight," Arthur Weasley began, tears in his voice and in his eyes, "we are to bury the person who has a right to be called the greatest wizard of our time. We are to bury Albus Dumbledore."
The lawns of Hogwarts were filled with people like never before. Witches and wizards from all over Britain and even some foreign ones, had gathered on this one place, to pay their last respects to whom had indeed been the greatest wizard of their time- and perhaps even of all times. All were staring at one point.
There, in front of the crowds, a small, black lectern had been constructed, and Arthur, the newly appointed Minister of Magic, lead his first and most important funeral ever. But not at him did all witches and wizards gaze.
No.
Because only a few paces before him, clad in a long, black, velvety robe, stood the tall woman of whom the news she had been Dumbledore's wife had spread quicker than anyone had thought possible.
Minerva McGonagall had her hands neatly folded, her dark, wavy hair curling over her shoulders, down her back. It was her very own, personal goodbye to Albus, the hair.
"You have all my life insisted on me wearing it loose…" she bitterly and yet somehow tenderly thought.
"Now I am- can you see it?"
She hoped so. She could only say she did so hope so.
Minerva was very well aware of the fact that everybody was looking at her, with curiosity and pity, but she did not look up. She stood, not weakly, not hesitatingly and she didn't cry.
All tears had been spilt, and she knew she had to be strong now of all times. This was symbolic to her- a sign to the person she had dedicated her life to, wherever he was, a sign that she would be strong. That she would obey him, that she would lead Hogwarts, that she would bear the weight of it as he had always born her and as she had always born him.
Though Minerva McGonagall knew she'd never truly smile again, she did not cry.
Hermione Granger, to whose trembling arm she, despite herself, clung, did cry, though. Small, half-oppressed sobs escaped from her slightly parted lips, and Minerva, not really knowing what to do, found herself softly patting the other woman's back.
Strange, she pondered. She had been his wife and Hermione had been just a student, yet Hermione cried and she didn't. But that had always been one of Minerva's strange little traits, hadn't it? Whatever you do, a lady does not show her feelings.
She had read that line in one of Agatha Christie's books, she supposed, when she'd been fourteen- she'd been addicted to those novels, then… And she must have, somehow, remembered it, and, years later, she'd realized she'd practiced it all her life. She'd never cried in the public before, and she would certainly not start with it now. For Albus, who had always admired her because of it. For the crowd, who had already their own tears as a burden to carry.
Minerva McGonagall had never been a burden.
"And now…" Arthur Weasley's tear-stained speech had continued without her realizing it.
"Someone would want to say a few words."
Minerva nodded. That person was her. She, the wife, the widow, the one with probably the most pain of them all, and yet the one who had to be strong.
Arthur's look at her was an inquiring one- as if he asked "Are you alright?", as if he said "You don't have to, if you don't want to!".
The answer to the first unspoken question was "No." and the answer to the second was "I do have to.".
It was that simple.
And, before the eyes of so many grieving people, Minerva strode forwards and turned towards the crowd. She had not prepared anything. For the very first time in her life, Minerva McGonagall did something without preparations, without carefully written down instructions, without knowing what to say even. Perhaps there just was nothing to say.
Yet she did speak, and, as she opened her mouth, she knew Albus would guide her words.
"First…" Her voice was trembling, yet she gritted her teeth and went on.
"First I would like to thank you all. Your being here means a lot to me. I am glad- I am glad Albus after this war still had so many friends."
Don't cry. A lady doesn't cry. The widow- wife!- of Albus Dumbledore doesn't cry.
"The reason why I wanted to render this- call it a speech- is a simple one. I want to tell you all something you probably already know by now."
She slightly paused- allowed herself to examine the faces. Molly- Arthur… Ginny and Harry, sobbing, and Hermione, now clinging to Severus' arm. Poppy Pomfrey, Alastor Moody, his scarred skin now stained with tears. Fred and George Weasley, pale yet healthy again, way more serious that anyone had ever seen them. Rolanda Hooch, trembling, arm in a bandage…
It were all those faces which convinced Minerva. She had taken the right decision.
"That something is the mere fact that I loved, love Albus Dumbledore. I love him with a kind of love I hadn't even thought possible before I met him. I would have died for him."
The sincerity of her voice was unmistakable, and she went on.
"But fate has been cruel. I am still here and he, the man, the wizard, my love above everything is gone. Yet I will do what he wanted me to. Because, despite our losses, yesterday was a day of victory.
And don't cry over me, don't pity me, I beg you all.I am but a dead woman walking. My happiness has faded forever and I will be mourning until the glorious day when I will rejoin my husband. But you all, who have futures, who have lives before you, must remember, for our youth, that goodness, despite everything, has prevailed.You, we, must rebuild the wizarding world- we don't have the choice, this choice has been made for us. We must rebuild the world, and start with our children's home, with Hogwarts. I promise, here, now, that Hogwarts will again be the school it always has been, even without the greatest Headmaster it has ever known. And…"
Poppy Pomfrey's sudden, loud sobs interrupted her, and Minerva raised her head at the sky as the woman smothered her sobs in a handkerchief.
"Albus, I know you are there, I know you hear me. Close your eyes and sleep your well-deserved sleep of eternal peace, my love, because trust me: Hogwarts will know its magnificence of the past again. It will. It will. And I love you."
The last, three words had come out as barely more than a suppressed whisper, yet somehow, all had heard them and all cried, as if to replace the tears of the woman before them, the woman who couldn't cry though she wanted to.
Minerva closed her eyes, bowed her head and moved back towards her former place, still feeling all eyes on her, but not noticing them. She was praying.
For the first time in what were more that fifty years, Minerva McGonagall prayed.
Through her prayers, she heard the rest of the ceremony, yet she only looked up in the end, as four men slowly, slowly lowered the coffin of her love into his grave.
"In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ, we commend to Almighty God our brother Albus Dumbledore and we commit his body to the ground; earth to earth; ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The Lord bless him and keep him, the Lord make his face to shine upon him and be gracious unto him and give him peace. Amen."
Arthur Weasley slowly closed the prayer book, and Minerva's eyes- all eyes- saw the Headmaster's body be entrusted to their last and final resting place. The welcoming arms of Mother Earth.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust indeed, and it were those words, those typical, humble Albus-words, that were carved into the grey gravestone that would mark this spot, on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, as a sanctuary of goodness forever.
"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust"
Very simple, very beautiful, very Albus.
It was a large tombstone, and somehow, Minerva had the comforting, almost welcoming feeling it would once form her last blanket as well. It was on that moment, exactly then, that Minerva made her sacred vow to her beloved.
"Albus, I will come to you. Wait for me, and when the time is right, then…"
Minerva's very first tears formed in her eyes, and yet, she did not feel bad.
"Then open your arms and catch me as you've always caught me…"

[Nerweniel]

Chapter Eight: Not Our Farewell

“Professor- Minerva, are you really sure?”
Minerva McGonagall nodded and faintly smiled at her once favourite pupil- now her colleague and her successor. She patted the young woman’s shoulder in a supporting gesture.
“I couldn’t be more sure, Hermione.” She nodded once more and added, as she saw the hesitant look in the new Transfigurations teacher’s honest, brown eyes
“You’ll make a wonderful Transfigurations teacher and Head of Gryffindor, Professor Granger. I am sure of that. You’re the brightest student Hogwarts has known in years. And you were a great Head Girl, Hermione, you…”
Hermione Granger interrupted her former teacher, though… and hesitatingly muttered
“I know, P- Minerva, but I am only nineteen. How do you think I’ll manage to teach students who’re sometimes but a year my junior?”
Minerva had her answer ready and smiled again.
“The way you taught Mr. Potter and- and Mr. Weasley many things through your seven years at Hogwarts.”
The name of Ronald Weasley left her lips with difficulty. She knew how much Molly- always a dear friend of hers- suffered every single day, again and again, from the loss of her sons….
“But M-“
But Minerva silenced her new, young colleague by a soft, motherly hug
“Hermione,” she then said simply.
“You’re the only one I would entrust my precious little cubs to.”
And that, she knew, sufficed.

~*~

Yet Minerva had to admit it cut like a knife through her already ripped apart heart as she, slowly but surely, approached the biggest and most richly decorated chair at the centre of the High Table. Well here it is, she practically summarized. The Welcoming Feast- and for the first time in decades and decades and decades; the Headmaster was not present.
Yes. The Headmaster.
Because Minerva could try and try and keep trying, but she could not help it- in her eyes, Hogwarts had only one Headmaster- and that was Albus Dumbledore, her husband.
As the First Years were lead inside, she softly swallowed and squeezed her own hand under the table. For the very first time in years, all eyes were not focused on the poor, nervous, frightened First Years. The eyes were focused on her, she knew, and therefore she couldn’t grant herself only the smallest moment of weakness. Even when, for the first time in decades, it was not her who carried the Sorting Hat, it was not her who held the name list. It was Hermione Granger.
But Minerva bit her lips and forced her unwilling lips into a slight smile.
“Let the Welcoming Feast begin!”

~*~

Yet as she re-entered her room, that evening she felt like falling apart. She didn’t even remove her cloak or undo her hair- she just fell down on the coach and closed her eyes. A sudden feeling of depression covered her heart and she just couldn’t help it.
Don’t cry.
Don’t- don’t- don’t…
It was only then, as she narrowed her eyes in order to re-gain her self-control, that she noticed something. A strange artefact- probably muggle- was standing on her so-called “vanity table”. As she, with a frown, approached it, she saw the piece of parchment next to it, and the well-known, neat handwriting of Hermione Granger.
“Dear Minerva,
This is a CD-player. It’s a thing muggles have in order to listen to music. I’ve put a spell on it- it now does work inside the Castle of Hogwarts. Inside of it is a “CD”- you probably know what it is. Please listen to track three. It’s entitled “Our Farewell”, by Within Temptation, and it is the most beautiful song that I know.
I noticed your sadness again today, and through this, I hope to comfort you at least a little bit. You have not lost the Headmaster, Minerva- I saw the look in his eyes before he died- and you’ll never lose him.
Your,
Hermione Granger.”
Minerva swallowed, then slowly inhaled and sat down. But as the first verses of lyrics reached her ears; she knew she could not hold back her tears…

~*~

In my hands
A legacy of memories
I can hear you say my name
I can almost see your smile

~*~

And she could.
“Minerva,” he whispered in her ear. “Minerva…” like he had spoken her name for the very first time, almost fifty years ago now.
“Minerva, I have fallen in love with you.”
A legacy of memories- in her hands. Old memories, newer ones… How he had first kissed her- it had been technically forbidden, back then. That first, soft, hesitant touching of lips- the month of May, before her graduation. The whole, wonderful month of May, of hidden glances and secret, tender smiles. Of light embraces before dinner, of warm kisses before bedtime… Of the wonderful feeling of knowing for a fact that they had decades before them, that they could do as they pleased and that they would once belong to each other, not in secret, but openly.
That, Minerva now recalled, had been a vain dream after all.
Because after Grindelwald, Voldemort had come, and again they, he, she, they had become a secret. But a blissful secret. A blissful secret after all…
And she’d loved him.

~*~

Feel the warmth of your embrace
But there is nothing but silence now
Around the one I loved
Is this our farewell?

~*~

Yes, that was her question. Was this their farewell? Had the dynamic duo, the friends forever, the lovers-until-death-do-us-part then finally parted?
That was her question, that was her fear. The one phrase in their wedding vows that had ever frightened her. Till death do us part.
And after? Did he still love her? Was she still his Tabby?
Tabby…
The thought the sweet, lovely nickname made her smile through her tears. Tabby. For everyone, she had been Professor McGonagall- stern, strict, formidable, but at night, as his arms encircled her and she could feel, taste, sense the rhythm of his heart beating only for her, then she knew she was Tabby, his Tabby, his own.
Tabby, Mrs. Dumbledore…

~*~

Sweet darling you worry too much, my child
See the sadness in your eyes
You are not alone in life
Although you might think that you are

~*~

Thank you, Hermione.
She had never had children. Two miscarriages in a row, and they had known that she would never give life to a son or daughter… She had been sad, depressed even, and for the first time in her life she had thought about leaving him. He had always wanted, adored, longed for children. And she, she could not give him any…
She had filled her trunk, two days after the last miscarriage. All her clothes, all her books and every single bit left of her were pushed into it. She had written a letter, she had signed it, placed it on his desk, she had headed for the door and…
And he had stepped in.
She had never seen Albus cry before, but then, he did. He had begged her to stay- not asked her, but begged her. He had embraced her, he had comforted her, he had kissed every single tear in her eyes away and he had stayed with her, for three full weeks, until she finally felt better, until she finally was able to let go of Sarah Héloise Dumbledore… her, their, late daughter.
They had talked, for days and days and days and she had finally dared believe that he loved her for what she was, not for what she could not give him.
The children had never come, but they had at least had each other.
And Hermione.
Hermione Sarah Granger- her middle name was a strange coincidence that had never really occurred to her as a coincidence. If Sarah Héloise had lived, Minerva was sure of that, then she would have been like Hermione…
Thank you, Hermione.

~*~

Never thought
This day would come so soon
We had no time to say goodbye
How can the world just carry on?

~*~

Yes, how could it? How could it, and how could she live on when her heartbeat had stopped months ago? Her heart had stopped beating with his, yet her life was prolonged and prolonged and…
How could this day have come so soon?
Soon, not literally, perhaps- forty years was quite a long time- but still, it had felt like just one, wonderful moment of blissful madness, like that first kiss had been so many years ago… She had, for some reason, always thought she’d die before him. It was stupid, of course- he had been seventy years her senior- but still. He couldn’t die, she had told herself over and over and over again, until she had eventually started to believe it.
How wrong she’d been…

~*~

I feel so lost when you are not at my side
But there's nothing but silence now
Around the one I loved
Is this our farewell?

~*~

Is this our farewell, Albus? Is this love I felt and feel for you now something of the past, something ancient, over and dealt with?
No! No, and no and no, she would never give in!
This love I feel for you is my life, Albus.
Without you, I am nothing, Albus.
Empty, Albus.
Dead, Albus.
Wait for me.

~*~

Sweet darling you worry too much, my child
See the sadness in your eyes
You are not alone in life
Although you might think that you are

~*~

She was not alone. Not alone, but how could she be not alone without him? How could she, the ever-sidekick, the helper, the advisor, still be alive when there was no-one left to sidekick for? It was impossible, it was unreal- it couldn’t be.
But it was.
She had always been the emerald shadow behind the purple majesty, the clever, quick green eyes beside the twinkling, cerulean ones… the long, black braid alongside white magnificence…
They expected her to take his place.
But that she couldn’t. She was still practical, witty, intelligent, strong Minerva McGonagall, but what was the point in strength when there was no-one to be brave for?
There was none.

~*~

So sorry your world is tumbling down
I will watch you through these nights
Rest your head and go to sleep
Because my child, this is not our farewell.
This is not our farewell.

~*~

This is not our farewell, my love.
Tears dripped on her hands and she sniffed. A ridiculous sound- not like her at all- but as if she cared. Yet she balled her fists as the five words were repeated once more.
“This is not our farewell.”
For I love you, Albus.

[Nerweniel]

Chapter Nine: Wiping Away The Blood

Three months later, nothing had changed.
As Minerva, at breakfast, took her now usual seat at the High Table, she really did realize that it was true- nothing had changed. Nothing- nothing at all.
She had not changed. Her love had not changed.
And that was all that mattered to her.
But the others- her friends, her colleagues, they had changed. Slowly but surely, they were recovering, Minerva knew, and she envied them because of it. She had always been the flexible one, the one to never bend and if she did, to recuperate before anyone could notice it. She had never been the weak one- the one to ponder on and on about grief or loss. She’d thought such things ridiculous, and below the standards of a real Gryffindor- and how badly had she been punished for those thoughts!
Only now did the ever-formidable Minerva McGonagall realize what defeat was- how grief felt. And she could not but be very, very ashamed of her former self. Of that calculated, proud and practical Minerva, of that creature who didn’t know what crying was, who didn’t know how tears felt.
The new, barely five-months-old Minerva, knew these things- and more.
She knew how it felt to sit there, between people with futures ahead of them, knowing that her future was over, that all she had left were empty years, empty decades, perhaps, with a grief to big for one woman alone- with a pain that would consume her more and more until slowly, slowly she would lose her sanity because of it. Not that she cared.
She’d already lost everything anyway.
She knew how it felt to open her eyes in the morning, to feel the stained nightly tears on her flustered cheeks and to know, to know for a fact, that this was how her so-called “years to come” would be like. Crying herself to sleep at night, waking up to remember the tears and dreams of the night before- and crying again, because of them.
It was the endless melody of the past days- it was a melody that ruled her life, and she sighed.
So many happy people around her.
They were forgetting about Albus, she bitterly realized, even though she knew it was not fair to say or even think so. They weren’t so much forgetting him as just getting on with their lives. Which they should, she kept reminding herself as she automatically buttered her piece of toast.
Which they of course should. It was only natural, Minerva realized whilst observing them, that they, young as they were, could not keep on dwelling in a past that was not even theirs.
It was only natural, the way Hermione Granger and Severus Snape’s eyes kept on locking and unlocking at an incredible speed, the way her cheeks coloured faintly pink and the way his black eyes started glowing as they met her hazel ones.
It was only natural, the way Harry Potter- appointed last-minute Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher- kept eyeing the red-haired Gryffindor Head girl at the end of her House Table- and the way her fiery brown eyes kept “accidentally” flashing towards the Head Table.
It was only natural.
Everything was only natural, and somehow, she would have to live with it.

~*~

It was that thought, accompanied- but that she herself did not see- by her natural and unaffected Gryffindor bravery, that made Minerva take a decision. A decision which she had procrastinated many, many months, but which she’d always known she would have to take someday. And if “someday” was now, well, then it was.
Time to wash away her life, time to wash away the blood, time to allow the wounds to heal.
But they would never heal, a voice in the back of her head screamed- yet was immediately cut off by a second, much sterner one.
They had to.
As she entered her office- his office, because that it was and that it would always stay- she closed her eyes for a moment and immediately shook her head. No. No weakness this time.
Her marriage was over- it was hard to face, but five months had passed and she had to understand it. Albus was dead, gone, forever, and she could not follow. Not yet.
So she could at least make the rest of her stay on earth as comfortable as possible.
As she threw open the door of the large wardrobe, she felt a tear slide off her cheek and scolded herself for it. Now was she a child, unable to suppress her feelings?
Damn- oh damn- oh yes she was.
As she stepped into the wardrobe- it was magically made larger, so as to be able to hold all his robes- Minerva bit her lower lip with all her might. She couldn’t do this, she realized as tears sprung in her eyes. She could not remove these robes from this wardrobe, as well as she could not remove her memories from her heart.
How had she ever been able to think that it was this simple- that she would ever be able to live on and forget, like all others? She was not like all others- what had been between her and Albus had not been “like all others”! He had been her heart, and removing him from her life was like ripping out her own heart- she simply couldn’t.
So instead of cleaning out the closet, instead of “wiping away the blood”, she embraced the blood and finally realized that she could not “allow the wounds to heal”.
Because they would never heal.
Never.

~*~

It was Severus Snape who found her, more than an hour later. It was his fiancée, now Professor Granger, who had in the first place expressed her worries about the whereabouts of the Headmistress, who had apparently disappeared after breakfast.
And, since she had a class to teach and he at the moment hadn’t, he had decided to go check on Minerva in her office. He was one of her closest colleagues, after all- he had seen her suffer, despite the so well-built up façade she kept maintaining.
As he opened the large, ebony wooden door, though, she was not there- and if it hadn’t been for the still slightly opened wardrobe, he would never have noticed it and probably have walked off again.
Yet, because of some strange twist of fate, he did, and as he slowly opened it and took a look inside, even the great Potions Master felt tears in his eyes at what he saw.
There, in the middle of… almost a nest of robes- robes which, he had no doubt, had belonged to the late Headmaster- she lay. Minerva McGonagall.
Curled up like the feline she was, a cheek resting against one particularly fluffy, purple robe- Albus’s favourite. Her eyes were red and puffy, yet closed and Severus knew she was fast asleep.
Knowing she always desperately longed for the forgetfulness of sleep, he did not wake her. Severus walked off again, but not before gently, carefully, covering her still, sleeping form with a robe.
But one thing he knew for sure now, and he could not suppress a barely audible whisper.
“Minerva, if I will ever love the way you still love Albus…”
His voice was hoarse, and he noticeably swallowed before speaking the rest of his sentence.
“Then I will not have lived in vain.”

[Mellypoo62]

That was great! Fantastically written! I cried the entire time! The funeral is waht really got me! Great job!

[Nerweniel]

Chapter Ten: Going Home

Winter came and went, and spring did exactly the same thing, but for Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts, snow equalled sun and sun equalled snow. She was nothing but a ghost of her former self, and ever though she did everything to prevent the students from noticing it, the teachers saw it and suffered with her. They could do nothing, just nothing, to ease their friend and employer’s pain, since the very reason, the core, even, of that pain had been gone for many months.
Minerva McGonagall was still beautiful, but it wasn’t the practical, lively beauty she had once possessed that made people take a second glance at her. It was a sad beauty, a beauty hidden in the paleness of her skin, in the firm line of her clenched shut mouth, in the big, dark green eyes in which only one- only one!- word lay hidden, a simple word, and yet it was all she, always the selfless one, wanted.
Albus.
Just that. She had not spoken his name for many months, and every time she heard it spoken aloud, she felt her back stiffen and she knew that, even though they didn’t let it show, people noticed it and, inwardly, shook their heads for her. Poor Minerva, they thought.
Poor Minerva.
But Minerva didn’t want to be pitied. Towards the student body, and as much as possible towards her employees alike, she still kept up the façade of the woman she had once been. Strict, energetic, overall good-natured- one tough lady. In a way, she still was that woman, and yet Albus’s… death… had turned the world upside down. She led a double life- brave as long as the sun shone, but as soon as all lights went out, all so typical courage, all strength, slid off her skin with her day robes, and when she cried in her pillow at night, all left of that woman was one, desperate lover, crying for all she’d had- and lost again.
Hermione Granger was the only one who sometimes, on rare occasions, managed to break through that strong shell of bravery her superior and friend had built around her wounded heart. She, too, had suffered a grave loss- not the one of a lover, but the one of a best friend, and even though she very well knew that even she could barely imagine what Minerva went through, it was something, and the two women grew, despite the large age gap, towards something very close to best friends.
Hermione was the daughter Minerva had never had, and Minerva was the mother Hermione had lost two years before.
And yet.
Even mothers have to leave their children once, Minerva knew, but never voluntary. When they had no choice- when nothing else was possible.
So, as spring drew to its end, exactly one year after the Final Battle had come to an end, a black-haired witch with radiant, green eyes sat down at her desk and took her, his, favourite, purple quill. A faint blush graced her cheeks as she, slowly, started writing- hesitantly at first, but almost frantically in the end. She was crying without making any sound. Her slender, arched shoulders shook with every breath she took, yet her quill never ceased scribbling, not even when a big, glassy teardrop stained her parchment.
When she finally left her desk, two pale, slender hands, which had apparently regained something of their former activity, sealed a big, yellowish envelope with a small piece of red wax.
As Minerva stepped aside from the table, she looked in the mirror and, narrowing her eyes, removed the trademark pins from her black hair, after a short hesitation. Immediately, the unfamiliar feel of dark waves next to her skin made her shiver, but she shook her head and stepped out of her teaching robes, a strange, unearthly smile dancing around her lips as she opened her- their- large wardrobe. One by one pushing the clothes aside, she in the end stood there, obviously hesitating between two of them. The first was a man’s purple robe, way too large for her, but very beautifully decorated.
The second was a long gown, a sort of celebration dress- emerald green like almost all her robes, and yet so entirely different. It left part of the shoulders bare; the black sleeves were long and wide.
It was a wedding dress, so the unnaturally long, accompanying cloak explained.
After changing into this last, rather unusual attire, the once so proud Headmistress turned around and, with that same, faint smile, closed the door of her, their, quarters behind her.
When she, moments later, quietly opened another door, the rooms she arrived in were empty. No surprise was readable on her face, though. She just stroked the old parchment of the envelope once more, in an almost… tender gesture, before laying it, slowly, down on a low table in the centre of the room.
“For you, Hermione…” she faintly muttered before, again, turning around.
Moments later, she spoke another five words, but in another way this time. She was happy, more than happy, almost… triumphant, as she whispered
“Going home… finally- going home…”

[Nerweniel]

Epilogue: My Greatest Achievement

“She is not here!” Severus yelled, as he, on Hermione’s urgent bidding, had run towards Minerva’s quarters as quick as his legs possibly permitted him to. Hermione, coming far behind him, only nodded and grabbed his hand.
“Then she… then outside.”
Together, they ran on in the opposite direction, and only one word escaped Hermione’s lips between ragged breaths.
“The grave!”
As their leather-clad feet treaded the wet grass of the lawns of Hogwarts and slowly but surely approached the place they were heading to, both of them realized, when they came to a stop before the grave of the greatest Headmaster Hogwarts had ever known, that it was too late.
But never had Minerva McGonagall been more beautiful than on that very moment, when the black, coal eyes of Severus and the amber ones of Hermione looked up and saw.
There she lay, the proud Headmistress of Hogwarts. The light, grey marble of the tombstone was half covered- and it was covered by her, by the Lady of Emerald, because there she lay. Her long, black hair with the few grey strands sprawled out behind her head, and her tall, slender body curled up in one last, desperate embrace of him who she had left the earth and everything she had behind for.
But her face was turned towards the mortified couple, and it was exactly that, that kept both Hermione and- though he’d never admit it- Severus from crying. Her face was chalk white amidst the dark frame of her thick hair, and her eyes were closed as if she were asleep, but her so often tense and clenched together lips were smiling- it was the smile of a woman who had finally, finally found happiness. And both the man and the woman watching knew, that Minerva McGonagall’s happiness was not something to be stained by their tears. She’d waited for it long enough.
It was Hermione who moved and bowed down beside the dead woman first- and it was Hermione who noticed the small piece of parchment she still held clenched between her dead fingers. As soon as she touched the cold, but so familiar hand, though, it almost fell in hers, and she read out loud.
“Have I then really lived one year of my life without my Albus? Have I? Yes, I have, and let that be the only and greatest achievement of the proud Minerva McGonagall to survive the hands of time. I have done many things in my long life, for good and for bad, but this, truly, is my greatest achievement.”
It was unsigned, but as Hermione got to her feet again, a big, watery tear rolling down her cheek despite herself, a sad smile graced her lips.
“It is, my mother. It is.”
But It was Severus who asked the question first- the question that had, at first, bothered Hermione’s heart as well.
“How… Hermione, how?”
As she turned towards her lover again, that same, faint smile danced around her lips- but it was no happy smile.
“A broken heart, Severus. I have mocked that line in stories for all my life, but from now on, today, I will believe every single syllable of it. She died of a broken heart. But look…”
She was no longer looking the Potions Master in the eye, Severus realized, and he turned around, feeling her trembling hand in his equally shaky one.
“There they go.” Hermione said simply.
Because there, high above, among the clouds, so far away yet so closely together, two little, familiar figures were to be seen, slightly blurred by the setting sun and yet so recognizable.
They were holding hands.

The End

[griseldalafey]

Beautiful ending. I certainly believe that people can die of a broken heart. And Minerva most certainly would. It was sad, but so well written. Great job! *dabs eyes*

[ArabellaFiggs]

" :'(wiping tears away "
It was sad but it was lovely.

[KayleeTonksLupin]

Kaylee: Granddad...Grandmum...no! NO! NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN?! NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Lovely story but I think I will never stop crying!
Tonks: Oh, my sweet lassie...*clasps Kaylee in a warm embrace*
Kaylee: Thank you, Mum...How could this be...

[Tartan Lioness]

Oh My God!!! I can't stop crying. That's so saaaad! *WAIL*

[Jaya]

I've just read your fic for the first time and I should say that this is my first feedback on this board but I wanted you to know how deeply your story touched me. I won't say I liked it... although the writing was very good... but rather I will tell you that it made me weep almost uncontrollably...

I've been in Minerva's position. I've sat at my husband's bedside as he breathed his last. I carried on in spite of wanting to curl up and die. I tell you this because I want you to know that I know what I speak of when I say that you did a fantastic job capturing her range of emotions... having to be strong for other people but occassionally feeling overwhelmed. Two years passed before I could bring myself to do anything with my husband's clothes and I still have many of them stashed at the back of my closet. I've sat in the floor and cried into a shirt that smelled of him.

Thank you for a story that touched my soul...

jaya

[Taylor]

Im still wiping away tears! I don't know if I want to know how you could have written that with out bawling through the whole thing. They had a news report not long ago that said that people really can die of a broken heart- something to do with the stress of the body -

My mum has dads boots still, by the steps and his coat, and his vest, waiting - giving her comfort.

Taylor

[Fawkes]

I can only repeat what the others have said before me. Simply a beautiful story, it cuts right to your heart. Terrific job!

And if you'll excuse me, I need to go and grab a tissue...

[StormAngel]

OMG> simply the best story I've ever read. Great job!!~~

[minnie313]

:'(you got me crying....

this was so saaaaaaaaaaaaaad and yet, so well written.... exactly like I could imagine Min after his death...

[Apocalypticat]

I've only had the time to read the first five chapters—and daren't even read the above reviews in case they spoil it! Wonderful, aching writing—so stark and yet so eloquent for it. You really get a sense of Minerva struggling against her grief. Look forward to reading the rest!

[serenity]

I just read yout story and it was wonderful. You display Minveras grief really plausible.
Gives the term 'love till death' a entirely new meaning...

I have to admit that I was crying during reading. You did a wonderful job.

[monkey-in-a-tree]

are you trying to make me die from a broken heart?! This is truly the best angst I have ever read...EVER! And definitely the most emotional thing I have read. I can’t stop crying it’s so sad but happy at the same time and filled with love; there are just too many emotions to deal with! This is brilliant. Congratulations by the way for being the first, and probably only, person to snap me right out of a sugar high moment. Amazing and deeply touching write

[dme0414]

I am touched by your story. My great love has gone and passed and I find myself questioning why should I go on. I am 20 years old and have already lost that one person. I love your story, I will tell you now the feelings of Minerva are quite on point. Bravo is all I have to say.

[kelbel21]

oh my gosh...*wipes away tears* that was sooo sad! But i do like how she finally got to be with him.

[~ Rosaliee ~]

great, love this story

[Bola]

He tried to sit up in bed, yet had to lie down again with a painful look on his face.
“Lead Hogwarts through the times that are coming. Lead it, not as I have lead it, but as you want to lead it.”
She bitterly smiled and laid her hand on his cheek.
“As if that would not be the way you’ve lead it.”

OMG. That so made me cry... Rather well thought of as well!

Seemingly controlled, yet shaking inside, Minerva stood up and looked on her watch.
He had not died “that day”, she ironically thought.
It was three past midnight.
Then, she slowly turned towards the people in the room, almost all of whom were sobbing themselves.
“Tonight, Albus Dumbledore has passed away.” she slowly, softly, yet matter-of-factly spoke.
“I’ve been his wife for forty years.”

Awwe. Now I am not only sobbing, but wailing as well...

Chapter 7 had me in tears beginning to end... but this line in particular was breaking my heart:

"Albus, I will come to you. Wait for me, and when the time is right, then…"
Minerva's very first tears formed in her eyes, and yet, she did not feel bad.
"Then open your arms and catch me as you've always caught me…"

I really loved the CD player thing, and how you have described everything around it.

That was her question, that was her fear. The one phrase in their wedding vows that had ever frightened her. Till death do us part.
And after? Did he still love her? Was she still his Tabby?
Tabby…

At this, I had to go look for a whole box of tissues. I swear, everything in your story is so well thought of... So intense. So deep.

I went to listen to the song, and I must admit I don't immediately see Within Temptation fitting with them... And then I listened to the song... And it all just...fit.

She had never had children. Two miscarriages in a row, and they had known that she would never give life to a son or daughter… She had been sad, depressed even, and for the first time in her life she had thought about leaving him. He had always wanted, adored, longed for children. And she, she could not give him any…

And that one hits too close to home... You have gotten the feelings of a woman unable to have children very well, and how she wants to leave her lover just for that reason... Well done... I'll have to continue reading later... Too emotional right now to continue...