A/N: Here is my puny author's note, but I need to explain some things before you race into the story-- this is almost like "This Man Was Mad", but it lacks certain elements and has others instead. I was thinking of turning this into a future chapter, but I decided that would not work. This idea came out of nowhere, it seems, and though I do have a basic plot for it, I'd like you readers to decide if this should continue. I mean, I could leave it right here-- it ends how I'd like it to, but I want to know how you readers like it... ALSO, I have Gladys Ferrin in here, also featured in "The Blood of Azkaban". Now, she is based off of me with some odd characteristics thrown in there that remind me of my best friend. I don't know who she is, really, but she reminds me most of myself, so there you go. You're about to read a story with ME in it. Scream and run. :D
The Ending
"Gladys! I'm Gladys! You have to let me in there!"
It was apparent that the Healer watching the room did not think so kindly of my tone of voice, for she spat in reply, "I'm under strict orders that no one may enter! If you have any complaints, kindly take them up with her at the end of visiting hours."
"Oh, for heaven's sake; Gladys is one of her dearest friends." A wild-eyed Poppy Pomfrey rushed to my aid, sensing my desperation. "She'll let the both of us in, I promise you."
The hooked-nose nurse glared dirtily at the both of us before stepping aside and abandoning her post. Poppy regained control before I could move and calmly pushed the door open while I gathered the essential nerve required; the atmosphere required a more somber eye.
The room was one of the most spacious, which was hardly surprising; fame granted many higher 'glories'. It was empty apart from the bed in the center of the room. Sunlight softly drifted in, highlighting what once were her ebony tresses. She sat beside the bed, watching the old man sleep with almost a maternal eye, ready to strike upon any intruders like the lioness she certainly was, but as she looked up at us, a gleam of recognition entered her gaze and she gestured us forth with her eyes. We proceeded cautiously nonetheless; how much intrusion is too much intrusion?
"Any change?" Poppy bravely asked, but perhaps it was out of simple concern; she had known Minerva for longer than me.
"No," she replied shortly, leaving no room for discussion. I watched her head turn toward the immobile form on the bed to stare at the one who was silent. He slept, and the tenderness in her gaze caused me to ache for what would no longer be hers upon the morrow. He would wake up to give his goodbyes, and fall into the never-ending sleep, a sleep that surpasses all time and understanding of anything. He would dream and dream on again, never waking, and never troubling over trivial matters such as life or death.
His snowy-white hair was ablaze with the rays of the sun, and it seemed surreal that anything troubling could occur at the time of such sunshine; the students were on summer holiday from Hogwarts, and I remained with two women, watching an old man die. But this was no ordinary man. Had it been, perhaps I would not be here. Perhaps I would find witnessing an intrusion, and what a blessed intrusion it would have been. I would not witness another soul crushed by grief, and I would not witness the time of passing, as if one needed any confirmation for the time of death of anything-- I would see no script with a name, yet this man would leave a lasting impression on me, simply because I didn't know his name. I could remember faces well- names were an entirely different matter, and I would remember him not because he was great, but because his final moments impacted me.
Such was not the case here. This man was breathing his last, not because of himself today, but because of her, the old woman sitting on the edge of her chair, peering at him as though to catch his every last breath with her eyes, as if desperately attempting to record the finality of it all. These were the moments she would turn to when she was at her weakest, I knew, and this was why I was here. If I could place strength in her heart, allowing her to realize that I was aware of how she felt, the pain this witness would cause me would be completely worth it. I would suffer the pain of anything for the benefit or progression of her. . . .
He inhaled sharply, and her head swiveled like a top, facing him and breathing in his last expression. He slowly opened his eyes and softly smiled at her with his eyes partway open. My heart clenched in response; after all these years, their love still had this affect of melting my own barriers into soft butter.
"Minerva," he all but whispered, bringing her hand to his lips with his dead shrivel of a hand and kissing it. I observed her response in silent admiration. She herself let her guard down by shutting her eyes in pleasure, and as she opened them, she began to speak.
"Albus, I've brought you friends," she whispered back, hesitant, it seemed, to break the atmosphere. She used her other hand and beckoned his spectacles to her before she tenderly placed them upon the bridge of his nose. It seemed he could see immediately, or perhaps could before she had placed them on his face-- his eyes never left mine through the entire transaction.
"You've brought Poppy," he nodded sideways to her while he still stared at me, "and Gladys."
Minerva nodded, noting his stare but taking no exceptional notice to it. "Yes, I did."
"Poppy, have you…?"
"I've got the documents all here, sir," was her quick reply. I tried to avoid shuddering as I glanced to Poppy because Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have settled on me, as though I had some compelling feature that was so hard to ignore. I was unnerved; I did not have eels growing out of my ears. To my right, I watched Poppy hand a file folder to Minerva, and my breath hitched as I realized the contents: his will and unsigned death certificate. Poppy was here to sign it.
I chanced a glance back at Dumbledore, but his eyes were busy with something else and I relaxed at once. As if sensing my relief, the old man spoke.
"Miss Ferrin, you are not out of hot water yet," he said quietly, smiling a little as he filtered through the file folder Minerva had handed him; it appeared to have more within it at second glance. "I have a charge for you--"
"--whatever it is," I began anxiously, "I promise I will perform to the best of my ability."
He looked at me, and I could for once see the pain in his eyes as he said, "Thank you. Your confidence in me means more than you shall ever know." He looked to Minerva and then at Poppy as he added in a quieter voice, "Gladys and I have 'unfinished business' to attend to."
Poppy took her cue at once and left the room. Minerva, however, seemed reluctant to leave if her stiffening back indicated anything.
"My dear, we can hardly progress to anything if we are reluctant to begin in the first place." He smiled at her as his words came out quickly; it was almost as if he sensed he had little time remaining, yet he added in spite of this, "I cannot properly leave without saying goodbye. You shall have your turn last, yet last might as well be first."
"I know, Albus, I know…" She complied to his whims, but not before kissing his cheek and walking stalwartly and true towards me.
Her eyes searched mine and I sensed an overwhelming impatience exuding from her very being. "I'll be quick," I whispered and I could see the gratitude gleaming in her emerald eyes before she briefly embraced me and quickly left the both of us alone.
The door shut rudely behind her and I stared at my feet for a moment, embarrassed almost to meet my old Headmaster's gaze when I was fully aware he was staring at me intently. "I want you nearer, Gladys," he said quietly, and I cautiously stepped forward, retaining my dignity with slippery fingers as I took a deep breath and stepped before him. "There is no need for nervousness; what I plan on asking you is not going to require Herculean effort."
I granted him a small smile and I chanced a glance at him. Tears were pouring from his eyes like the leaky water faucets in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, but his voice bore no evidence of his distress. The sight made my own eyes water.
"Hush now," he said softly, blowing a simple spell with his breath to wipe away my tears. "I can't have you weeping; you are the one holding me together. If one can withstand the pain of separation, then so must I."
I nodded dumbly, too lost for words as I felt the tears well up again.
"What I ask of you is both simple and difficult--" he paused, patiently awaiting my reaction before continuing, "--therefore it must be treated with great care and sensitivity. I cannot remain in two places at once, which is why I desire you to be the eyes and ears of me to soothe Minerva's surely debilitating grief. I have seen her grieve before and what she tends to do is nothing out of the ordinary for her-- she tends to pile even more work upon herself in order to relieve the pain of facing the real heart of the problem." I nodded quickly, vividly recalling the passing of her father and remembering how long it took her to move on. I winced as I recalled that Dumbledore was there for her at a time when I was not. I could not comfort another when I was so lost in a world of my own. The man who lay before me turned my life around with his kindness and I could never repay him. Taking care of Minerva when she was at her weakest was certainly a small price to pay.
"I will do whatever you ask," I said softly, meeting his gaze. "I just am unsure if I am right for such a tall order… I will not be offended if you ask another. Honestly, I can't imagine that I am the best choice. Minerva has better friends at her disposal. What if you're making a mistake? What if Minerva needs the person I can't be?"
"If I weren't so certain in the matter, I would have asked Poppy," he said in almost a sharp voice and I lowered my head to the floor again in embarrassment. "Minerva cares about you more than she reveals. You are her dearest friend; count on that truth and you shall succeed. All I ask is that you are there. I cannot substitute for my own death. I cannot comfort her when I am gone. She will descend in the bitter depths of hell because of this, because of our separation and the truths she will learn in due time may shatter her if she bears them alone. All I ask is that you remain who you are today, and be sure to never waver in the conviction that I love her, and will forever continue to do so, no matter what happens."
I felt my voice split in two as I looked at him again and replied weakly, "I--I will."
"Thank you," he smiled at me and I weakly returned it. "I sense that you still feel either unworthy or inadequate of this cause I have placed upon you. Or perhaps simply dumbfounded I would press you to action when you wouldn't have otherwise. Please do not think of it in this way. There is no other Minerva has spoken of more fondly apart from you, and I feel that you were and shall remain the best choice. You also must know by now, and I am dreadfully sorry you must hear this at a time so overdue, but I greatly feel that you were perhaps the daughter I never had. I love you, Gladys."
I looked at him, and the tears spilled from my eyes. I kneeled on the floor at his bedside and wept as he stroked my hair; all I had desired in my life was approval, and I had had it all along from the man who had always been in front of me. He loved me, and the fact was so wonderfully magnificent and dreadfully painful to contemplate, for I had doubted him for so long. My wallowing in self-pity ended abruptly, however, as the door opened and the two witches walked side-by-side to Dumbledore's bed as though with an air of purpose.
"I will keep my bargain," he nodded solicitously to Minerva before she could say anything and said softly, "Poppy, if you would?" Poppy stepped forth as I backed away with Minerva out the door, wondering what significance Poppy had in all of this. If I were to hold Minerva up when she was down, what was Poppy to do? Clean up the mess I left behind?
As we stepped out in the hall, it appeared deceptively tranquil, but I was keenly aware that Minerva was restless at the injustice she suffered by going last. It was not all in speaking to him last that drove her up the wall, but feeling that time was running out was what irked her.
I considered within myself to speak to her as I quietly watched Healers bustling by, up and about and swamped with the amount of work they had on their hands, but no words came to me. It seemed a silence between friends, or so I flattered myself. There had to be something if I did not feel the awkwardness and she didn't snuff it out at the first chance she received. I almost chanced a glance at her, but I refrained; it seemed almost an infraction upon her privacy, looking at her while she suffered. It seemed the most obvious that the lioness was caged, and any jab to her would prove deadly if not frosty, but this was Minerva, one of the dearest friends I had ever received. I gave her the privacy she deserved willingly; after all, it was better to say nothing than to say something unintelligent, right?
The doors opened a second later and Poppy, I was interested to see, did not bear any marks of emotional battle. She seemed more somber, of course, as she opened the door and nodded to Minerva, who seemed to staunch with difficulty, the reflex to simply dash in the room without any reservations. Poppy seemed tranquil as ever, unaffected by any turn of events or with whatever Dumbledore had meant to entrust her, but perhaps this detachment had come from her years as a school nurse.
I did not speak to her either. There seemed to be something I was missing in this silence though, as if she had something on her mind that needed conversation to relieve. I could bear it no longer and lightly asked, "He entrusted you something?"
"Yes," she said softly, "but I am not permitted to share it."
I looked away and at my shoes again-- they were quite interesting after all. "It means nothing, dear," she remarked confidently, so strong and sure in her conviction that he cared about me. I quietly yearned for that strength everyone seemed to believe I had unquestionably within me. "My duty seems heartless almost, for any old scullery maid could do it, but he was quite insistent that I do it. I will only do it because he has asked-- there is no point in crying over spilled potion, especially if I have already agreed that I would use it."
I nodded to her, but said no more. At that moment, the doors opened again, inviting us entry and I followed Poppy in, feeling the pressing heaviness of intrusion with far more weight, as I observed what I had never observed before. . . .
They stared at one another, and I found I could not pull my gaze away. They were so beautiful; chosen gods, it seemed, to show the rest of us how to love. Dumbledore acknowledged our return with a small nod before he said simply, "The papers you desire my love--" he gestured to the corner in the room, "--are on that writing desk. I want you to have them."
"Thank you, Albus," she exclaimed in gratitude it seemed, but she did not get up to retrieve them. Feeling as though I were a part of a scene in which I did not belong, he suddenly spoke.
"Gladys, I was just speaking of you."
His eyes never left hers and they seemed to have formed a distinct line of communication that Poppy and I could not hear. This staring was better than the loving nonsense lovers whispered in one another's ears, yet the awkwardness left a weary tang in the air. To rid myself of it, my line of sight descended again to my shoes and I kept them fixed there as I said, "You were?"
"Oh yes, indeed," he exclaimed, a shadow of his normally exuberant self returned in the blink of an eye, but as I glanced up at him, it was gone and he remained weak and frail in his bed, dying because of the blackened hand stroking Minerva's cheek with such tenderness that I looked away again. They seemed to have dared each other to stare until the other blinked, or perhaps until he died. Perhaps they were both afraid to have the parting glance ruined upon a lazy eye. Whatever the cause, I remained silent; pleading within myself that he would continue and spare me further discomfort.
"I believe you are all lucky… it's not everyday one is given the opportunity to watch their employer die," he remarked amicably as though speaking of his beloved candies.
A heard a belligerent sniff behind me as Poppy reprimanded sharply, "Don't speak of yourself in that way." Luckily, Minerva seemed to have caught the real intent at his words; she was smiling at him and her joy hurt almost as much as her desperation of over a half-hour before.
"My dear Poppy," he began gently, surprising us all with what came out next, "surely you can recognize an old man's feeble attempt to lighten the atmosphere and then have the grace to pretend to appreciate the joke? I am heart-broken."
The comment wasn't particularly funny, but the four of us all laughed. When we could properly breathe again, the old man said, "Leaving with a smile and the ones I love the most around me… How glorious, how quaint…"
He broke the line of concentration and turned to Poppy first, extending his arm and beckoning to her. He got a hold of her arm and gently pulled her forward so he could whisper in her ear. I hung onto the rasp of his voice and only caught, "--side of bargain. We can't have--" before his voice was completely lost to me. As Poppy was dismissed, I was intrigued to find a smile on her face even as her eyes shone with withheld tears.
Minerva was second. I didn't even bother trying to listen; he said so much and at such a great speed, that I found it nearly impossible to believe he was dying.
I was last. He looked at me and I felt as though I were bleeding on the inside, as though he was very well aware of what he had asked of me. As if all of the vain thoughts I had considered on acting upon, as if every desire of my heart was woven in that blood and he could list every atom holding it together from memory. His cerulean eyes blazed at me in the way that only his eyes can, but as I approached him, the heat of the evaluating gaze disappeared and the normal twinkling manner returned. Cold relief drowned me as I stepped nearer and I felt the breath of his numbered words on my ear as he spoke. "Please remember," he whispered, "your worth to me. Please remember that I love you. Please remember that I am very well aware of the pain this may cause you. Don't be afraid. Her bark is worse than her bite, I promise you, but in loving another, any pain is worth the exquisite happiness that accompanies a relationship. I trust your judgment. I trust that you will love her. I trust that you will do the right thing. You promised your best-- make certain you give me your best. I love you. Do not forget…"
I stepped away, wiping my eyes and watched Poppy do the same. The only one who had not shed a tear at all was Minerva. I looked to her then, but her emerald eyes were not glittering with tears, but with an emotion I could not place.
"The adventure awaits…"
They were his final words. Minerva let go of his cold, dead hand as Poppy signed the certificate in the air. I silently watched out of the corner of my eye, the progression of Minerva pulling the sheets up to his chin. She arranged his limbs in a dignified manner and stood to wander to the writing desk, but he stopped her. She ran her fingers through his beard and hair, touching his face and nose, closing his eyes with her quivering fingertips, and kissing his cheek before she wandered away.
Some would say that a death could bring about a beginning, a rebirth to those affected and reincarnate them into people stronger than before, but as I glimpsed the first, fresh tears falling down Minerva's face as she wept ever so silently, I came to regard those who said things as unworthy rubbish beneath the soles of my feet; they knew nothing. To me, this was no beginning. This was the ending.