Post by ginger newts on Nov 14, 2004 21:43:37 GMT -5
As much as I hate doing these things to them, this one refused to remain unwritten.
Rolling over on his side, Albus Dumbledore reached out and caught a section of his wife’s beautiful black hair between his long fingers. She turned her head, trying to move out of his reach.
“Minerva, what’s wrong?” he asked sadly. “You’ve been avoiding me for days.”
There was no answer and her eyes were closed. “Minerva, I know you’re awake, please talk to me.”
She rolled over onto her back and opened her eyes, but did not look at him. “I guess I just need some more time after everything that happened this year.”
Albus looked confused, “But everything is fine now. Harry and his friends survived, Voldemort is no longer in the school, and the stone was destroyed.”
Minerva made a soft noise like she was biting back a sob and got out of bed. Walking to the window, she wrapped her arms around herself and turned her back to Albus. He watched her for a minute, trying to determine when she became so distant and depressed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The morning after Harry saved the stone, Albus had found Minerva sitting by his bed in the hospital wing watching the boy sleep.
Placing a hand on her shoulder, he asked, “How is he?”
Minerva looked up at him quickly, “Poppy says he will be fine, but he hasn’t woken up yet. Albus, where have you been? No one has seen you since you brought Harry here.”
He drew up a chair and sat down beside her, taking her hand within his own, “I had another talk with Nicholas and destroyed the stone.”
“It’s...it’s gone?” Minerva asked quietly, almost disbelievingly. “Already?”
Looking puzzled, Albus confirmed that the Philosopher’s Stone had indeed been destroyed earlier that morning. Minerva rose quickly from her seat and excused herself from the hospital wing, claiming she had forgotten to do something important. She had been acting strangely ever since.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Knowing that she had corresponded several times with Perenelle in the last few days, Albus was struck by an idea. Rising, he went to stand behind her at the window and laid a hand on each of her shoulders.
“Are you worried about the Flamels?” He paused, “Don’t be. My dear, they have lived a long and happy life and I do believe they are looking forward to setting off on the next –“
“Great adventure,” she interrupted him bitterly. “Yes, Nicholas and Perenelle have had a long and happy life together.”
She sniffed and wrenched herself out of his grasp, walking over to the fireplace and taking a small figurine off the mantle. It had been a wedding present from the Flamels, a lion and lioness standing side by side looking as though they were about to face down an attacker. Nicholas had said it was the perfect image of Albus and Minerva: two Gryffindor lions who would face down all their troubles together.
Minerva turned the figurine over slowly and ran her finger along the back of the male lion, an odd look in her eyes. Albus hadn’t moved from the window, but he was watching Minerva closely, desperate to understand why she was behaving so strangely. He tried to wait patiently, knowing she didn’t respond well when pressured to share her thoughts and feelings.
After a few minutes, he could stand it no longer and walked over to her. Taking the lions gently out of her hand and replacing them on the mantle, Albus led Minerva to the couch and sat with his arms firmly around her waist to prevent her walking away again.
“Please talk to me,” he pleaded. “Do you have any idea how much it hurts me to see you so upset and so unwilling to talk to me? If you’re not worried about the Flamels then what is bothering you?”
Minerva took a deep breath and looked up to meet his gaze. Albus could tell she was trying to hold back tears and he wanted to draw her into a protective embrace, but first he needed to understand.
“I just wish that there had been some alternative to destroying the stone,” she said softly.
Albus did not try to hid his surprise, “Why?”
She looked away and spoke so quietly that he wasn’t sure he understood her correctly. “I wanted us to use it,” she said.
He stayed silent, waiting for her to finish. “I mean, I wanted you to use it so you could stay with me.”
It hit Albus like a ton of bricks. She had been hoping he could take Elixir of Life so that he would live long enough for the natural course of her life to play out. He wasn’t sure if knowing that would have influenced his decision regarding destroying the stone or not, but he wished she had spoken up earlier.
“I had no idea,” he breathed, finally pulling her all the way into his arms. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
Minerva had gladly buried her face against his chest when he hugged her and now she pulled back a little to speak. “I was ashamed of how selfish a desire that was.” Her voice broke and grew soft again, “And I was hoping you would think of it without me having to ask.”
He didn’t know what to say. The thought of taking the Elixir had never occurred to Albus. He had never desired a longer life then the natural life span of wizards and while he didn’t want to die anytime soon, he thought that death would be a whole new adventure and he wasn’t afraid of it. But here was his beautiful young wife crying quietly into his beard because she didn’t want to spend eighty years on this earth without him. Eighty or more, Albus thought suddenly. Just as with muggles, witches often lived a bit longer and there was no guarantee that he would die quietly in his sleep at a ripe old age.
Suddenly, he realized that Minerva expected him to say something. Tightening his arms around her and kissing the top of her head, Albus said gently, “I can’t make any promises now, but perhaps after Voldemort has been defeated for good if you still feel the same way I can make another stone. Nicholas gave me the instructions.”
Minerva drew back sharply, “Isn’t that just as dangerous as having the stone itself around?”
Her tone was distressing, not quite sarcastic and not disbelieving, but not filled with concern for the safety of the recipe either. It was distant and bitter and it scared Albus.
“Not quite,” he explained, “for the very last ingredient is not written down and is known only to Nicholas and myself. Minerva,” he paused, “please don’t be distressed about this. I flatter myself that I am still relatively far from Death’s doorstep and we still have many years together even without the stone.”
“I know,” she said, extracting herself from his embrace and walking to the window once more, “but you scare me, Albus.”
He knew better than to follow her again and so turned on the couch to look at her, “How do I scare you?”
“The way you talk about death,” she exclaimed almost angrily, raising her voice above a whisper for the first time all night.
She turned to face him, still talking loudly and defiantly, “You embrace it almost as though you are looking forward to finding out what’s on the other side. It scares me to think that you are prepared to die at anytime. I want you to fight it, to want to stay with me. Why are you so ready to leave?”
Her voice broke again on the last words and she turned her back to him, her head down. Minerva didn’t cry often and Albus had never been able to bear the sight of her tears. They broke his heart.
Rolling over on his side, Albus Dumbledore reached out and caught a section of his wife’s beautiful black hair between his long fingers. She turned her head, trying to move out of his reach.
“Minerva, what’s wrong?” he asked sadly. “You’ve been avoiding me for days.”
There was no answer and her eyes were closed. “Minerva, I know you’re awake, please talk to me.”
She rolled over onto her back and opened her eyes, but did not look at him. “I guess I just need some more time after everything that happened this year.”
Albus looked confused, “But everything is fine now. Harry and his friends survived, Voldemort is no longer in the school, and the stone was destroyed.”
Minerva made a soft noise like she was biting back a sob and got out of bed. Walking to the window, she wrapped her arms around herself and turned her back to Albus. He watched her for a minute, trying to determine when she became so distant and depressed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The morning after Harry saved the stone, Albus had found Minerva sitting by his bed in the hospital wing watching the boy sleep.
Placing a hand on her shoulder, he asked, “How is he?”
Minerva looked up at him quickly, “Poppy says he will be fine, but he hasn’t woken up yet. Albus, where have you been? No one has seen you since you brought Harry here.”
He drew up a chair and sat down beside her, taking her hand within his own, “I had another talk with Nicholas and destroyed the stone.”
“It’s...it’s gone?” Minerva asked quietly, almost disbelievingly. “Already?”
Looking puzzled, Albus confirmed that the Philosopher’s Stone had indeed been destroyed earlier that morning. Minerva rose quickly from her seat and excused herself from the hospital wing, claiming she had forgotten to do something important. She had been acting strangely ever since.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Knowing that she had corresponded several times with Perenelle in the last few days, Albus was struck by an idea. Rising, he went to stand behind her at the window and laid a hand on each of her shoulders.
“Are you worried about the Flamels?” He paused, “Don’t be. My dear, they have lived a long and happy life and I do believe they are looking forward to setting off on the next –“
“Great adventure,” she interrupted him bitterly. “Yes, Nicholas and Perenelle have had a long and happy life together.”
She sniffed and wrenched herself out of his grasp, walking over to the fireplace and taking a small figurine off the mantle. It had been a wedding present from the Flamels, a lion and lioness standing side by side looking as though they were about to face down an attacker. Nicholas had said it was the perfect image of Albus and Minerva: two Gryffindor lions who would face down all their troubles together.
Minerva turned the figurine over slowly and ran her finger along the back of the male lion, an odd look in her eyes. Albus hadn’t moved from the window, but he was watching Minerva closely, desperate to understand why she was behaving so strangely. He tried to wait patiently, knowing she didn’t respond well when pressured to share her thoughts and feelings.
After a few minutes, he could stand it no longer and walked over to her. Taking the lions gently out of her hand and replacing them on the mantle, Albus led Minerva to the couch and sat with his arms firmly around her waist to prevent her walking away again.
“Please talk to me,” he pleaded. “Do you have any idea how much it hurts me to see you so upset and so unwilling to talk to me? If you’re not worried about the Flamels then what is bothering you?”
Minerva took a deep breath and looked up to meet his gaze. Albus could tell she was trying to hold back tears and he wanted to draw her into a protective embrace, but first he needed to understand.
“I just wish that there had been some alternative to destroying the stone,” she said softly.
Albus did not try to hid his surprise, “Why?”
She looked away and spoke so quietly that he wasn’t sure he understood her correctly. “I wanted us to use it,” she said.
He stayed silent, waiting for her to finish. “I mean, I wanted you to use it so you could stay with me.”
It hit Albus like a ton of bricks. She had been hoping he could take Elixir of Life so that he would live long enough for the natural course of her life to play out. He wasn’t sure if knowing that would have influenced his decision regarding destroying the stone or not, but he wished she had spoken up earlier.
“I had no idea,” he breathed, finally pulling her all the way into his arms. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
Minerva had gladly buried her face against his chest when he hugged her and now she pulled back a little to speak. “I was ashamed of how selfish a desire that was.” Her voice broke and grew soft again, “And I was hoping you would think of it without me having to ask.”
He didn’t know what to say. The thought of taking the Elixir had never occurred to Albus. He had never desired a longer life then the natural life span of wizards and while he didn’t want to die anytime soon, he thought that death would be a whole new adventure and he wasn’t afraid of it. But here was his beautiful young wife crying quietly into his beard because she didn’t want to spend eighty years on this earth without him. Eighty or more, Albus thought suddenly. Just as with muggles, witches often lived a bit longer and there was no guarantee that he would die quietly in his sleep at a ripe old age.
Suddenly, he realized that Minerva expected him to say something. Tightening his arms around her and kissing the top of her head, Albus said gently, “I can’t make any promises now, but perhaps after Voldemort has been defeated for good if you still feel the same way I can make another stone. Nicholas gave me the instructions.”
Minerva drew back sharply, “Isn’t that just as dangerous as having the stone itself around?”
Her tone was distressing, not quite sarcastic and not disbelieving, but not filled with concern for the safety of the recipe either. It was distant and bitter and it scared Albus.
“Not quite,” he explained, “for the very last ingredient is not written down and is known only to Nicholas and myself. Minerva,” he paused, “please don’t be distressed about this. I flatter myself that I am still relatively far from Death’s doorstep and we still have many years together even without the stone.”
“I know,” she said, extracting herself from his embrace and walking to the window once more, “but you scare me, Albus.”
He knew better than to follow her again and so turned on the couch to look at her, “How do I scare you?”
“The way you talk about death,” she exclaimed almost angrily, raising her voice above a whisper for the first time all night.
She turned to face him, still talking loudly and defiantly, “You embrace it almost as though you are looking forward to finding out what’s on the other side. It scares me to think that you are prepared to die at anytime. I want you to fight it, to want to stay with me. Why are you so ready to leave?”
Her voice broke again on the last words and she turned her back to him, her head down. Minerva didn’t cry often and Albus had never been able to bear the sight of her tears. They broke his heart.
