Author's Notes: Angsty as this is, I like the way it turned out. Anyway, between this and Song of Myself and the first few chapters of The Ties that Don't Break, I know I've been writing a ton of angst. I'll write something fluffy and happy sometime soon..ish. In the meantime, here you are. Please be aware of the Half Blood Prince spoilers.
Disclaimer: Just playing on JKR's playground. No harm intended.
On Death and Dying
If this is the life
Why does it feel so good to die today?
- Metric, "Grow Up and Blow Away"
Minerva McGonagall couldn't remember a time in her life without Albus Dumbledore. He had been a family friend, turned teacher, turned lover, turned husband. She couldn't remember a time without Albus, but now he was gone. He was dead. He was dead and she felt utterly alone. He had always been in her life in some way or another, but now he was gone.
He was dead. He had been dead for all of sixteen days now. Some evenings she would forget about this and walk down to his office for their nightly chess match. Then she would remember. She would remember that her husband was dead. She would remember that her husband had been killed and she would be filled with the awful feeling of that fact sinking in all over again. He was dead. He was dead. He was dead. They weren't going to play chess, because he was dead.
They would never play chess again. They would never share whispered conversations in the middle of the night. They would never discuss literature, or transfiguration, or astronomy, or politics ever again. She would never feel the softness of his lips against hers as they kissed.
Never again, because he was dead.
One hundred and fifteen years of a live once lived, dead.
She wished she had died with him.
She knew that if one of her students had told her that about a boyfriend, she would have admonished them. Told her how she could make it through this because of how strong she was. Told her that there were many more joys in this world waiting to be discovered.
Now, she was very much aware that such a statement would mean nothing to her students. What did it do to bring back a lost loved one? Absolutely nothing. In situations like this, the best and possibly only thing one could do was acknowledge the grief.
He was dead. He was dead. He was dead. When was that going to sink in? He would never again offer her muggle candy. He would never give her book recommendations. He would never tell her to quit grading, because she was overworking herself.
Never again. Severus had killed him. He was gone. Gone, gone, gone.
Dead. He was dead.
How was she supposed to feel? She'd never been a widow before and consequently didn't know the feelings that came with it. She didn't want to learn, either. She didn't want to be a widow; she wanted Albus. She wanted him. She wanted him, but she would never have him again. Never again, because he was dead.
She felt numb. She momentarily considered taking her wand and cutting herself. Making herself bleed. Making herself feel something. Making herself feel anything. No, she wouldn't do that. The pain would make her feel alive, and that wasn't what she wanted. She wanted to be with him again. And he wasn't alive. He wasn't alive, because he was dead.
She sat there, still feeling numb. If he were still around, they would probably discuss how oxymoronic that statement was. Feeling numb. Oxymoronic as it was, it was what described her current state perfectly. To a tee. She didn't feel anything. She just sat there, perfectly still, as the words repeated in her head. He was dead. He was dead. He was dead. Nothing could ever change that fact. Nothing at all.
She wondered if this was what dying felt like.