Post by rogueinker on Mar 29, 2005 12:56:39 GMT -5
Let Me Do This
by rogueinker
Published: 03-28-2005
Rating: PG (AD/MM)- Angsty yet I hope positive all the same.
Complete Story in 3 chapters. Love does not make you weak. It has made Albus and Minerva stronger over the years, but the cost has been great.
Chapter One
"I heard her voice first - a lilting cadence unknown yet sweet to my ears. My room was empty save for me. Still I know I heard her voice. The next night yet again I did hear it. Laughter this time. I wondered what malevolent magic was set upon me. I could not decipher her words clearly for they seemed to heed my ears from a distance."
"For a fortnight, I slept with pillows close to my ears. A strategy doomed to fail, indeed, for there was to be no escape. My very ears strained to hear the slightest note, pillows or not. Still, my waking mind was sound for only in slumber deep did my senses rejoice. Until I glimpsed her face."
"Was it her I wondered. I know not how I was so certain, but I was, Of her identity I was assured, as well knowing of it as I knew of the sun rising in the east and setting in the west, As certain that my life would ne'er be the same. Because of her."
"How can my vision be described when sight alone cannot measure all that rose within me at my first glimpse? I do not know if she were beautiful of face, only that she was so for me; the very design of nature upon her I found most pleasing. Did her smile light the world, I know only that mine outshone a hundred stars in that very instance. I was beguiled, enraptured, and I knew then as I know now that such would I ever be in her company, every moment in her light."
As the man paused to catch his breath before resuming his tale, another voice was heard.
"Albus! What is taking you so long up there?!"
The doting grandfather motioned for quiet. Two pairs of bright-eyed children giggled quietly into their blankets. "I was just reading the children a bedtime story, Minerva."
"Likely story," this pronouncement was followed by the sound of rustling robes and quick steps up the staircase.
"No need to come up, my dear. The children were just saying good night." Aged lips mouthed the words "Say good night,"
"Good night, gran'pa Albus," chorused four children - two with dark hair, two with the fairest of locks, but all with eyes that twinkled merrily whether they be blue or green.
The door opened silently. The hall light formed a halo around a feminine form no longer slender as in youth but still endowed with grace and poise, a woman in every way. Though her face was cast in shadow her words made her exasperation plain.
"You were telling them THAT story, weren't you?"
"What story is that?"
"The story of how we met ... the rememberall and all that."
Before Albus could answer a wistful, dreamy girl voice was heard, "An' how grandfather fought the mean man who took you away." Little Rosemary, the oldest girl at six, sighed softly very much like the romantic she would later be in life.
"And how you, grandmother, had to move the heaven and .... the very stars to be with grandfather." This was said in bold tones by the oldest boy in the room, the stalwart, seven years old Edmund.
"And we all lived happy e'fer after." This last comment was from the smallest of the children, the four year old charmer Giles - a boy with an impish smile that would one day, everyone agreed, melt many a womanly heart.
"THAT story, Albus." Minerva said trying to sound cross and failing miserably. Minerva kissed Albus on the cheek before sitting down on one of the beds. She hugged the small dark-haired girl in the bed.
"It's tradition, Minerva. I tell them that story every time we visit."
"Heaven forbid I put an end to tradition. But it is very late and you all should be abed."
Elizabeth, Rosemary's twin, kissed her grandmother soundly before collapsing back into bed. She asked, "Can we come watch Fawkes soon, gran'ma? 'Member you promised me I could come."
Hands that trembled only a little tucked an errant lock of hair behind tiny ears. "Now, Lizzy, my heart, his burning day is still a few weeks off. And only if you're good."
"I won't eat so many sweets, I promise," said Lizzy. "An' I'll bring all my pictures so we can dec'rate your office."
"We'll see, love." Minerva rose turning her face away. She made her way to another bed.
"An', grandma, no more jokes on the elves, promise." Giles nodded very solemnly.
"I'll practice my Latin without being reminded," Edmund offered. Albus ruffled the boy's hair then hugged him hard.
"I won't play quidditch," Rosemary piped in. "With no reason."
Minerva chuckled. "Within reason, my Mary girl, within reason."
Rosemary nodded and nestled deeper into her blankets. Minerva put several warming spells on all the children.
Tucking each of the children in turn with many soft kisses and endearments took a few more minutes. Albus led his wife out of the bedroom and closed the door. As they descended the stairs, she leaned her head against his shoulder. His arm held her close. As the couple passed several large trunks at the foot of the stairs, locked and strapped for travel, they gathered their strength and will for the remaining good nights and farewells still to say. All were necessary, none were easy.
Later, in their sitting room at Hogwarts, Minerva slipped off her her outer cloak and helped Albus remove his.
"The children are so young. How can they possibly even understand what you say?"
Albus faced her. "Ah, but you do not see my purpose. I do not care if they know the words I speak or if they remember what I said."
"Then why do you keep telling them that story?"
"Because I want them to understand how I feel about you, about us, their parents, our family." Albus brushed his lips across her forehead. "They will hear so many stories as they grow up but they may never know the important things. Because they are so young, it is likely that they will only remember us in pictures and textbooks. But I hope they remember my voice, my feelings, our story, when they tell their children some day."
She placed her arms around his waist. "Albus, I wish there was -"
"Hush. We have the time now. How shall we spend it, hmm?" Albus nuzzled her hair. He never tired of holding her.
Hands found each other easily, twining into a warm, familiar grasp. Several cozy pillows, a warm blanket and a gentle fire enveloped the old couple well into the evening. Memories and whispers soothed their troubled spirits.
In the vast recesses of the nearly empty castle, others prepared for the coming dawn in their own fashion. There were farewells, reminiscences, apologies and revelations.
A sister held vigil by the bedside of her nearest brother who clung so tenuously to life. Another brother, the living half of a pair, gazed grimly into the flames; one hand clenched tight in anger and the other gently comforting his sister sitting beside him. They were three left - mother, father, brothers, all gone.
In an abandoned classroom in the dungeons, a young woman paid a silent burning offering to an earnest, determined boy who had not lived and the embittered man who had attempted to shield the boy at the very end. As the embers died down, she draped the borrowed cloak over her shoulder and left the past behind.
By the lake, a giant in heart as well as size leaned heavily against his crutch. Starting at dusk, he had walked the grounds he loved so much as many times as his weak leg could manage. He propped his heavy frame against a tree and stared out at the lake. As the hours passed, he remembered every trip he had ever made across the silvery surface and every student - the special and the ordinary. He glanced at the highest tower of the castle, the headmaster's tower and he broke. Hands covering his face, he cried the tears he would not shed in front of the man he respected and admired most in the world.
Said man had fallen asleep in his beloved's arms and lap. His long beard was mottled with gray. His hair was dull and brittle with age. His face was gaunt even in repose. His body still bore traces of other wound only half healed. His hands, arms and legs she massaged lovingly letting the salve's warmth seep into his stiff joints and healing what sores and bruises it could. Into the night, she recited charms and spells over him. Such incantations held no guarantee of protection only the potential of improving her husband's chances against an opponent less weakened in body and spirit. She could do no more.
by rogueinker
Published: 03-28-2005
Rating: PG (AD/MM)- Angsty yet I hope positive all the same.
Complete Story in 3 chapters. Love does not make you weak. It has made Albus and Minerva stronger over the years, but the cost has been great.
Chapter One
"I heard her voice first - a lilting cadence unknown yet sweet to my ears. My room was empty save for me. Still I know I heard her voice. The next night yet again I did hear it. Laughter this time. I wondered what malevolent magic was set upon me. I could not decipher her words clearly for they seemed to heed my ears from a distance."
"For a fortnight, I slept with pillows close to my ears. A strategy doomed to fail, indeed, for there was to be no escape. My very ears strained to hear the slightest note, pillows or not. Still, my waking mind was sound for only in slumber deep did my senses rejoice. Until I glimpsed her face."
"Was it her I wondered. I know not how I was so certain, but I was, Of her identity I was assured, as well knowing of it as I knew of the sun rising in the east and setting in the west, As certain that my life would ne'er be the same. Because of her."
"How can my vision be described when sight alone cannot measure all that rose within me at my first glimpse? I do not know if she were beautiful of face, only that she was so for me; the very design of nature upon her I found most pleasing. Did her smile light the world, I know only that mine outshone a hundred stars in that very instance. I was beguiled, enraptured, and I knew then as I know now that such would I ever be in her company, every moment in her light."
As the man paused to catch his breath before resuming his tale, another voice was heard.
"Albus! What is taking you so long up there?!"
The doting grandfather motioned for quiet. Two pairs of bright-eyed children giggled quietly into their blankets. "I was just reading the children a bedtime story, Minerva."
"Likely story," this pronouncement was followed by the sound of rustling robes and quick steps up the staircase.
"No need to come up, my dear. The children were just saying good night." Aged lips mouthed the words "Say good night,"
"Good night, gran'pa Albus," chorused four children - two with dark hair, two with the fairest of locks, but all with eyes that twinkled merrily whether they be blue or green.
The door opened silently. The hall light formed a halo around a feminine form no longer slender as in youth but still endowed with grace and poise, a woman in every way. Though her face was cast in shadow her words made her exasperation plain.
"You were telling them THAT story, weren't you?"
"What story is that?"
"The story of how we met ... the rememberall and all that."
Before Albus could answer a wistful, dreamy girl voice was heard, "An' how grandfather fought the mean man who took you away." Little Rosemary, the oldest girl at six, sighed softly very much like the romantic she would later be in life.
"And how you, grandmother, had to move the heaven and .... the very stars to be with grandfather." This was said in bold tones by the oldest boy in the room, the stalwart, seven years old Edmund.
"And we all lived happy e'fer after." This last comment was from the smallest of the children, the four year old charmer Giles - a boy with an impish smile that would one day, everyone agreed, melt many a womanly heart.
"THAT story, Albus." Minerva said trying to sound cross and failing miserably. Minerva kissed Albus on the cheek before sitting down on one of the beds. She hugged the small dark-haired girl in the bed.
"It's tradition, Minerva. I tell them that story every time we visit."
"Heaven forbid I put an end to tradition. But it is very late and you all should be abed."
Elizabeth, Rosemary's twin, kissed her grandmother soundly before collapsing back into bed. She asked, "Can we come watch Fawkes soon, gran'ma? 'Member you promised me I could come."
Hands that trembled only a little tucked an errant lock of hair behind tiny ears. "Now, Lizzy, my heart, his burning day is still a few weeks off. And only if you're good."
"I won't eat so many sweets, I promise," said Lizzy. "An' I'll bring all my pictures so we can dec'rate your office."
"We'll see, love." Minerva rose turning her face away. She made her way to another bed.
"An', grandma, no more jokes on the elves, promise." Giles nodded very solemnly.
"I'll practice my Latin without being reminded," Edmund offered. Albus ruffled the boy's hair then hugged him hard.
"I won't play quidditch," Rosemary piped in. "With no reason."
Minerva chuckled. "Within reason, my Mary girl, within reason."
Rosemary nodded and nestled deeper into her blankets. Minerva put several warming spells on all the children.
Tucking each of the children in turn with many soft kisses and endearments took a few more minutes. Albus led his wife out of the bedroom and closed the door. As they descended the stairs, she leaned her head against his shoulder. His arm held her close. As the couple passed several large trunks at the foot of the stairs, locked and strapped for travel, they gathered their strength and will for the remaining good nights and farewells still to say. All were necessary, none were easy.
Later, in their sitting room at Hogwarts, Minerva slipped off her her outer cloak and helped Albus remove his.
"The children are so young. How can they possibly even understand what you say?"
Albus faced her. "Ah, but you do not see my purpose. I do not care if they know the words I speak or if they remember what I said."
"Then why do you keep telling them that story?"
"Because I want them to understand how I feel about you, about us, their parents, our family." Albus brushed his lips across her forehead. "They will hear so many stories as they grow up but they may never know the important things. Because they are so young, it is likely that they will only remember us in pictures and textbooks. But I hope they remember my voice, my feelings, our story, when they tell their children some day."
She placed her arms around his waist. "Albus, I wish there was -"
"Hush. We have the time now. How shall we spend it, hmm?" Albus nuzzled her hair. He never tired of holding her.
Hands found each other easily, twining into a warm, familiar grasp. Several cozy pillows, a warm blanket and a gentle fire enveloped the old couple well into the evening. Memories and whispers soothed their troubled spirits.
In the vast recesses of the nearly empty castle, others prepared for the coming dawn in their own fashion. There were farewells, reminiscences, apologies and revelations.
A sister held vigil by the bedside of her nearest brother who clung so tenuously to life. Another brother, the living half of a pair, gazed grimly into the flames; one hand clenched tight in anger and the other gently comforting his sister sitting beside him. They were three left - mother, father, brothers, all gone.
In an abandoned classroom in the dungeons, a young woman paid a silent burning offering to an earnest, determined boy who had not lived and the embittered man who had attempted to shield the boy at the very end. As the embers died down, she draped the borrowed cloak over her shoulder and left the past behind.
By the lake, a giant in heart as well as size leaned heavily against his crutch. Starting at dusk, he had walked the grounds he loved so much as many times as his weak leg could manage. He propped his heavy frame against a tree and stared out at the lake. As the hours passed, he remembered every trip he had ever made across the silvery surface and every student - the special and the ordinary. He glanced at the highest tower of the castle, the headmaster's tower and he broke. Hands covering his face, he cried the tears he would not shed in front of the man he respected and admired most in the world.
Said man had fallen asleep in his beloved's arms and lap. His long beard was mottled with gray. His hair was dull and brittle with age. His face was gaunt even in repose. His body still bore traces of other wound only half healed. His hands, arms and legs she massaged lovingly letting the salve's warmth seep into his stiff joints and healing what sores and bruises it could. Into the night, she recited charms and spells over him. Such incantations held no guarantee of protection only the potential of improving her husband's chances against an opponent less weakened in body and spirit. She could do no more.
