How I wish you were here

[pinkie]

HI! I am new and this is the first ever fanfic I wrote! I am not sure, but this is one major spoiler, so if you haven't read the book, go do that first!!! I hope you will like it and I won't be too afraid to come back here. Oh, btw, I am foreign, so I hope you will forgive me my spelling faults.



How I wish you were here

Coldness had set in her heart and all Minerva felt was loneliness and a longing that started to hurt physically. She walked through the hall to her chambers, holding herself up against the wall with one hand. Dark blue circles laid thick under her eyes and her hair, a month ago still long, shining ebony hair, was now glistening grey. Her posture, always so upright had started to show her fatigue and her voice was seldom heard. Professors as well as students were gone and she was all alone in the great castle. Then again, even if they would have, Minerva would hardly have noticed.
The shock of it being Snape that killed her beloved Albus still shook her up and the knowledge that Albus would always try to see the good in people had also proved to be a dangerous attempt to peace of mind. Minerva swallowed with difficulty, only to fight of the tears that were welling up in her eyes. She stumbled, tried to keep her balance, but fell. Minerva didn’t try to get up again and sat, her side against the wall and wept, hot silent tears.
Where had her life gotten her? How had Albus’ believes betrayed him; would her believes do the same to her? Would that be bad? Every fibre of her being wanted to scream out: No, no, no! It would reunite her with the love of her life, with the only one she really trusted, with him – the one who held the key to her heart; oh please, to die now…
All her bravery had slipped from her like sand through a sieve. She was not really a Gryffindor anymore – all she was, was a miserable heap of robes, underclothes, flesh and bones. She hardly felt human anymore. What was she to do? She was aware that Albus would definitely not approve of her wallowing in self-pity, but she couldn’t help herself, even though her eyes were burning and her skin was starting to get raw. Her skin, that once was so soft… Minerva remembered the first day that Albus touched her cheek:
When she had been teaching for few weeks, she knew she had fallen deeply, madly in love with the Transfiguration teacher. When she saw him at breakfast (or dinner for that matter) her knees shook and a blush rose to her cheeks whenever he even looked at her. Actually, she tried to avoid him whenever possible, afraid as she was to stutter and stammer in his presence. One night, when she was taking a relaxed stroll through the corridor near her chambers, she bumped into him. In fact, she crashed into him, because she was watching the enchanted floors – she liked the look of grass beneath her feet and suddenly felt her hair tangled in the silver buckle of a robe. Albus’ full laugh had filled the corridor, and he freed her after giving her a sherbert lemon. He had taken her arm and taken her to his private chambers where he had given her hot chocolate and they had played chess. During the game, Minerva had realized that he was not only physically attractive, he was so clever, kind, friendly and fun too, her heart fluttered when he said something nice to her. The chess games were becoming a weekly event and after a while, Minerva found that Albus was making her compliments: her hair so beautiful, her eyes enchanting and her skin satin-smooth. When he said that, he reached out and touched her cheek. She smiled at him and his eyes twinkled like stars. “I think I’m falling in love with you…” he whispered. Minerva had laid her hand over his and tilted her head. “That’s nice…” she had said. They had stood up and after being pulled into a warm embrace, they had kissed.
Sitting on the cold floor, Minerva stared at the tiles. They were not enchanted anymore and the grey was as sober as could be. Pushing herself up again she found her way to her room. Instead of the usual crying on the starched cotton sheets, she flicked her wand and a pot of tea, with cups and scones appeared. She poured herself a cup and sweetened it. From her desk drawer she took a sheet of parchment and a quill and started to write. Word after word, sentences appeared and Minerva only stopped to take little sips from her cup or a bite of her scone. Nothing broke her concentration, until the flames in the fireplace started to hiss and a figure appeared.


PS The title comes from the song by Pink Floyd

[Jaya]

I think that you've made a wonderful effort and I look forward to reading more!

;D

[tayryn]

for a first fic... not too bad!

i am looking forward to more...

i would like to offer one suggestion though... for future updates and stories...

doublespace your paragraphs! it makes it so much easier to read!!

there truly is, nothing worse than reading a story that is in one big long neverending paragraph.

but again, for your first fic... you've done well, and i do look forward to more.

[Alesia]

I like it! I would love to see more. It you want a beta, I would happy to help you.

[pinkie]

I am so glad you guys didn’t hate it!!! And would love it if you would beta-read for me next time Alesia, that is a very very kind offer! I am a twit, though, so I guess I would e-mail it to you?
This is a short bit, but I tried to use the tips you gave me and I hope you will like it.


Part two


Green flames hissed in the fireplace and Minerva turned around to see who had arrived. A tall girl stood in the flames searching the room and when she saw Minerva sitting, staring at her, she stepped out of the ashes and started towards the old woman. Minerva held out her shaking hands and the girl held them in her strong warm ones.

“Professor – I received word that you were all alone and deserted in the castle.”
Minerva looked at the girl intendly. “What do you mean: you received word, my dear?”“
Well, some of us have been looking in on you the past few weeks and whenever you were in your chambers, you were crying. This morning I got an owl from Ron and I got myself over here as quickly as I could.”
Minerva stood up and embraced the girl. “You are sweet Hermione… You are right: I am very much alone here in the castle and up until some hours ago, I was miserable.”
A little smile appeared on Hermione’s face. “So, you are no longer miserable?”
“Well… yes, I am still miserable, but not as much as I was before.”
“Before what, Professor?” Hermione asked, curious as ever.
“I am busy writing coming schoolyear’s curriculum.” Minerva sat down behind the desk, blew softly over the ink to dry it faster and showed it to Hermione. Hermione carefully took it over and sat down on the sofa and started to read.

Minerva looked at Hermione and realized that, while she never had had a favourite pupil before, Hermione had found her way into her heart and she really liked the girl. Which was peculiar, because although Minerva appreciated teenagers as her ‘audience’, she never warmed to them. What was it about Hermione that made her like her so much? The girl wasn’t beautiful, although her teeth were now neat and even. Beauty was not something Minerva could easily go for (in her youth, maybe, yes, some quidditch players with fair hair and broad shoulders had taken her fancy, but that was different…). No, what Hermione showed was true Gryffindor spirit and she was so clever! In the first two years a bit bookish perhaps, but she was surely learning to use her mind in difficult situations. Maybe it was that Minerva saw a lot of herself in Hermione. She sat there, reading so concentrated, muttering a little to herself, it could have been a picture of Minerva, many years ago. Those long years before Albus was her lover – the years when he just taught her and he was just another cute teacher. When she was a girl with a plan. Hermione was obviously a girl with a plan as well. Ambitious, an apt student. She remembered how through the years Hermione developed an instinct for danger and she was very brave. Minerva wondered why the girl was here, her Muggle dentists parents, they surely knew what happened at the school and if they were going to send their Muggle child back to Hogwarts, she would be in more danger than the pure-bloods. Harry wasn’t coming back, was Ron? If Ron wasn’t, was Hermione willing to come, without the support from her best friend and from the boy she loved?


“Professor?”
Minerva woke up from her pondering. “Yes dear?”
“What has happened to ‘Runes’ and ‘Divination’?”
Minerva shook her head slightly. “I don’t think we’ll be needing those subjects anymore.”
Hermione bit her lip, she enjoyed her ‘Runes’ classes so very much.
“There is so little ‘History’, so much less than the previous years.”“
You are right when you say there is much to learn from the past, but I gather we all know what the past has brought us, and revolutions during the 1650’s are not going to be helpful at the moment.” Minerva thought of the little Professor Flitwick and his long, long orations on diverse subjects. He told boring tales, but he was the most intelligent man she ever knew - after Albus, naturally - and he had the floating swamp Fred and George had concocted dissolved into thin air within minutes.
“There is a great lot of DADA, but who is willing to teach us? After all that happened?”
Hermione watched her favourite teacher take a deep breath.
“I will do it myself.”

[Alesia]

Interesting that Minerva has decided to make Hogwarts into a battle prep school. I liked this one too.

[Mellypoo622]

This is excellent for a first fic and otherwise! Great job so far! I would love to see more!

[palanfanaiel]

Great fic so far ;D Love the song, wish you were here, by Pink Floyd, one of the best...

*Pal starts singing... Noisily*

P

[TabbyMin]

OOOOooo- I love this! You must write more. Just the whole after HBP is cool and I haven't read one like this yet. -tabby

[pinkie]

An update! Hope this time the strange marks are gone!

Minerva sat behind the desk in the Headmaster’s office and picked up the picture of Albus and her together, standing on a cliff, looking over a calm sea. Minerva remembered that holiday. They had gone to Cornwall, stayed in a cottage and took long walk that always ended in making love in the sun. Minerva smiled at the memory and returned to her work.

The school was now small and when the sorting had taken place, there were only seven Slytherins. Those seven, with the nearly twenty who came back, there was no point appointing them a separate Head of House, nor giving them a Tower of their own. Since there weren’t many Hufflepuffs either, they were chucked together. Miracle above others, it went rather well and it almost seemed the Slytherins learned a little kindness and the Hufflepuffs a little strategy. Minerva taught DADA and enjoyed it immensly: she had taught it years and years before, when Albus was the Transfiguration teacher. Using her gifts as a retired Auror and some easy transfiguration-spells, duels were much more exciting than even de DA members recalled from their Fifth year.

Standing all over the Quidditch field, our Gryffindors felt as if they could be ambushed any minute. Not a strange feeling, since McGonegall had told them something was going after them. Ginny looked up at the sky, Ron all over the field and Hermione tapped with her foot, awaiting a storm to break out. How she hated the duelling on the field, using a broom. Flying was not something she was good at and she didn’t mind admitting it. She hated flying and always longed to keep her feet on the ground, solidly, like a human being. Staying close to Ron when they had to fly, she felt savest, but she would never tell him that.

Minerva was contend. Her pupils were gaining lots of knowledge and spirit and they were becoming well-trained. She hoped Harry would come back to school, so she could teach him. He thought he could take on Voldemort himself (she noticed she didn’t wince anymore, was that because she had not much left to lose?), but he was still a boy. What was he able to do against the powers of evil? She knew Albus had always thought the power of love stronger, but Minerva sensed that at this moment, Harry was as angry inside as Tom was. His parents were murdered, his Godfather, his mentor. Who wouldn’t be angry?

In bed, Minerva couldn’t stop thinking about three things: 1. contacting Harry. 2. Albus portrait that would be arriving soon. 3. why didn’t she have any children of her own? The thought coming back most was contacting Harry. How would she find him? He wasn’t with his Muggle-family, nor with the Weasleys. He was not in the old Headquarters. Where on Earth could he be?

[zoeteproet]

Oh my, I want an update! Where is Harry!