Post by Nerweniel on Feb 16, 2005 15:46:25 GMT -5
Always
“It is often said that courage does not equal the absence of fear, but the knowledge that something is more important than that fear.”
Minerva McGonagall studied the words she’d just written for a little, then, quill still hesitating less than an inch above the thick, yellowish parchment, leant her chin on her left hand and sighed.
“It is true, Albus. I have been called courageous- even brave- on many occasions, but that does not mean I don’t fear. I do fear, and you know my greatest fear of all only too well. You are that fear.”
The room was dimly lit, midnight moon etched high against the sky, but the forty-nine year old woman’s hand did not hesitate. It leant, desperately and hopelessly, on the quill it clung to. And wrote- it wrote.
“I am afraid of losing you, my love, but more afraid am I of you losing because of me. That’s a great, crucial difference, and you know it. And I do not know whether the first fear will ever come true, but I know for sure that the second one will. It’s already coming true, Albus. You know what is happening to our world…”
It was an angry hand which roughly rubbed a tear away from the woman’s cheek, and black eyebrows arched, confused and terrified, but sure nonetheless. Forty-nine she was, the witch with her sad, green eyes and the long, black braid, though not looking a day over thirty-five- but for those very eyes. It was the eyes of one who had lived and loved- of one who had gained and lost- of one who had seen and been blind, everything.
“… and I know that, as well, and I cannot be selfish enough to not let you go. They need you more than I do, I fear, and in these dark days, they are in a more than desperate need for a guiding light. That guiding light is you- and I am but a moth, black and poor and dancing around the light- but a nuisance, and you do not need me, though you may think you do.”
Another tear welled up in her eyes as, almost automatically, her green gaze wandered towards the small frame standing atop of her desk. It was enchanted, of course, and the two persons on the picture smiled and waved as a faint, sad smile graced Minerva’s lips. Her own, seventeen year old emerald eyes twinkled as they looked up to the man standing next to her- and forty-nine year old Minerva averted her gaze as he, the auburn-bearded, blue-eyed man, lowered his head a little to gently peck his dance companion on the lips.
“I know that when you will read this, as the sun will have risen above the earth and another day will have started for both you and me, you will feel the need to try and prove me wrong. You shall call my reasoning ridiculous, you shall want to come to my room and tell me that you love me- but I beg you, if there is any place for begging in my ridiculously stubborn Gryffindor spirit, with all my heart- don’t. Don’t make things harder for us, Albus, for my decision is clear and it is this; that this, that we, must end here- if only for the world. For our world.”
The sound of the scribbling grew more determined, and through all tears and pain Minerva knew she was right. There was a purpose for her pain, after all, and the knowledge that that purpose existed alone was enough for her- she was not the woman to spare herself out of pure selfishness. And so she wouldn’t.
“If I should stay, I would only be in your way. So I’ll go- but I know; I’ll think of you each step of the way. And Albus- I will always love you. I will always love you.”
There wasn’t much more to be said, the black-haired witch realized as she dipped her quill into a fresh bottle of deep green ink. She’d done it, after all- she’d just done the one thing she considered right. She had just broken a man’s heart- and her own in the process.
“Bittersweet memories- that’s all I am taking with me. Goodbye, please don’t cry… we both know that I am not what you need. But I will always love you, Albus- always, always, I will always love you. I hope life will treat you kind- and I hope that you have all that you ever dreamt of. And I wish you joy and happiness, but above all of this-“
A sob escaped her lips as she wrote these words, but the gleam in her eyes had not lessened, nor had its intensity changed only one bit. Everything was true, after all. Every single world was the undiluted truth- even the last ones. She did wish him joy, without her- she did wish him happiness, without her. She knew very well she was not what he needed- what he needed was to guide the world with his wisdom. He did not need a woman next to him- he didn’t, and she knew that if she forced herself upon him- though he might really love her- she would only end up keeping him from flying, feeling guilty about it and yet being unable to let go.
She did not want that.
“I wish you love.”
***
Years passed, generations grew older, and even the world greyed a bit more in the eternal wheels of time. A Dark Lord rose and a Dark Lord was defeated, and light shone again in the hearts of mankind.
And yet, should any of those horribly selfish creatures human beings undoubtedly are have looked farther than his or her own nose- should any of them have cared enough to see through façades, to see through smiles, they would have seen…
They would have seen that in a great wizarding school in a great country, two unquestionably great people lived two great, empty lives- away from each other by a distance which was only a tiny little bit too big for them too cross.
They would have seen two people who were born, lived- and died, shortly after each other, with the same line on their lips.
“I will always love you.”
~The End~
“It is often said that courage does not equal the absence of fear, but the knowledge that something is more important than that fear.”
Minerva McGonagall studied the words she’d just written for a little, then, quill still hesitating less than an inch above the thick, yellowish parchment, leant her chin on her left hand and sighed.
“It is true, Albus. I have been called courageous- even brave- on many occasions, but that does not mean I don’t fear. I do fear, and you know my greatest fear of all only too well. You are that fear.”
The room was dimly lit, midnight moon etched high against the sky, but the forty-nine year old woman’s hand did not hesitate. It leant, desperately and hopelessly, on the quill it clung to. And wrote- it wrote.
“I am afraid of losing you, my love, but more afraid am I of you losing because of me. That’s a great, crucial difference, and you know it. And I do not know whether the first fear will ever come true, but I know for sure that the second one will. It’s already coming true, Albus. You know what is happening to our world…”
It was an angry hand which roughly rubbed a tear away from the woman’s cheek, and black eyebrows arched, confused and terrified, but sure nonetheless. Forty-nine she was, the witch with her sad, green eyes and the long, black braid, though not looking a day over thirty-five- but for those very eyes. It was the eyes of one who had lived and loved- of one who had gained and lost- of one who had seen and been blind, everything.
“… and I know that, as well, and I cannot be selfish enough to not let you go. They need you more than I do, I fear, and in these dark days, they are in a more than desperate need for a guiding light. That guiding light is you- and I am but a moth, black and poor and dancing around the light- but a nuisance, and you do not need me, though you may think you do.”
Another tear welled up in her eyes as, almost automatically, her green gaze wandered towards the small frame standing atop of her desk. It was enchanted, of course, and the two persons on the picture smiled and waved as a faint, sad smile graced Minerva’s lips. Her own, seventeen year old emerald eyes twinkled as they looked up to the man standing next to her- and forty-nine year old Minerva averted her gaze as he, the auburn-bearded, blue-eyed man, lowered his head a little to gently peck his dance companion on the lips.
“I know that when you will read this, as the sun will have risen above the earth and another day will have started for both you and me, you will feel the need to try and prove me wrong. You shall call my reasoning ridiculous, you shall want to come to my room and tell me that you love me- but I beg you, if there is any place for begging in my ridiculously stubborn Gryffindor spirit, with all my heart- don’t. Don’t make things harder for us, Albus, for my decision is clear and it is this; that this, that we, must end here- if only for the world. For our world.”
The sound of the scribbling grew more determined, and through all tears and pain Minerva knew she was right. There was a purpose for her pain, after all, and the knowledge that that purpose existed alone was enough for her- she was not the woman to spare herself out of pure selfishness. And so she wouldn’t.
“If I should stay, I would only be in your way. So I’ll go- but I know; I’ll think of you each step of the way. And Albus- I will always love you. I will always love you.”
There wasn’t much more to be said, the black-haired witch realized as she dipped her quill into a fresh bottle of deep green ink. She’d done it, after all- she’d just done the one thing she considered right. She had just broken a man’s heart- and her own in the process.
“Bittersweet memories- that’s all I am taking with me. Goodbye, please don’t cry… we both know that I am not what you need. But I will always love you, Albus- always, always, I will always love you. I hope life will treat you kind- and I hope that you have all that you ever dreamt of. And I wish you joy and happiness, but above all of this-“
A sob escaped her lips as she wrote these words, but the gleam in her eyes had not lessened, nor had its intensity changed only one bit. Everything was true, after all. Every single world was the undiluted truth- even the last ones. She did wish him joy, without her- she did wish him happiness, without her. She knew very well she was not what he needed- what he needed was to guide the world with his wisdom. He did not need a woman next to him- he didn’t, and she knew that if she forced herself upon him- though he might really love her- she would only end up keeping him from flying, feeling guilty about it and yet being unable to let go.
She did not want that.
“I wish you love.”
***
Years passed, generations grew older, and even the world greyed a bit more in the eternal wheels of time. A Dark Lord rose and a Dark Lord was defeated, and light shone again in the hearts of mankind.
And yet, should any of those horribly selfish creatures human beings undoubtedly are have looked farther than his or her own nose- should any of them have cared enough to see through façades, to see through smiles, they would have seen…
They would have seen that in a great wizarding school in a great country, two unquestionably great people lived two great, empty lives- away from each other by a distance which was only a tiny little bit too big for them too cross.
They would have seen two people who were born, lived- and died, shortly after each other, with the same line on their lips.
“I will always love you.”
~The End~
You owe me fluff, missy.
And this, my dear friend, is why I call you the Queen of Angst. This was nicely written albeit very sad.
