Finding Happiness

Beneath the weathered emerald eyes appeared crescents. They were a part of her laughter lines, but when she was told this numerous times by the only one who had truly cared for her, she adamantly retorted that they were her age lines, and laughter had nothing to do with them. They formed as tree-like veins in a forgotten leaf at the corners of each eye, branching off the thick bags, and yet, this did nothing to announce her age as she so wrongly thought so.

The sun set, and the glare shone brightly on her mahogany desk. This was her fortress, her becoming nature, to correct papers here in her office. Years had come and gone, and she continued to sit at this desk, despite the fact that it would no longer would be hers when the new professor came to claim her calling. It hurt, knowing that she would have to give up a work she was so certain that she would detest when it was suggested she take the job. She loved it. She poured her soul into teaching, and was almost to the point of perching upon one of the student desks just to observe the new professor -to be absolutely they were as enthusiastic as they stated-, yet this would never do. This desk, though hers, could not remain so forever.

Her quill paused in scratching out an error and she allowed herself the briefest moments of reminiscence. Now would be the time that he would open the door with silence, gliding upon the flagstone floor until he somehow materialized behind her and brushed his lips against her neck. Even now, she could feel his lips lingering there. She shivered for a moment before turning back to her work, yet the shiny desk caught her attention.

With wary eyes, she looked out to the sky; it was beautiful. Of course, it was beautiful. In this celestial glow, her glistening, gray-streaked hair resembled its former glorified form of ebony black in the shadow the glow produced. She closed her eyes gently, feeling his hands move up and down, up and down her own arms. His hands were old; she knew it and he knew it. They were strong, calloused, and one was shriveled in the final months. Yet, they were gentle. They were warm. They were comforting. They were loving.

Moisture gathered in both of her eyes and she furiously wiped the irritating wetness from her field of vision. With anger, she drew the curtains closed with an agitated flick of her wand hand and turned back again to her work. Her shoulders were kinked and her neck was wound in a knot, yet she knew he would come soon.

It was ten minutes later that she remembered that she forgot again. He would not come. He would never come again. This thought alone brought another wave of tears, yet this time, she lacked the will to brush them away. She continued correcting the eternal stack of papers even as the tears gushed down her cheeks and onto the numerous essays. The ink ran in two rivers; one of ebony and one of crimson. Seeing the sight of ruined work and the jolt of shock and guilt she felt at ruining those essays, the tears ran faster, blurring her vision so that even her glasses became blurry. It was within moments that she broke down completely, upset with herself that she couldn't even correct simple essays without thinking that she needed him to be there to accomplish such a mundane task. Her sobs were at last, agonizing and no longer sad. They pulled at her heart, and she yearned to cut it out of her own chest and stomp on it to end this madness, yet she knew that would be more painful than the degree his death inflicted. The loss of something so wonderful would never compensate for the pain she felt now.

She laid her head on that mahogany desk that was no longer hers and wept for what seemed like hours. She neglected to pull out her handkerchief -the same one he had given her- because she knew it was fruitless to staunch the flow. She would weep harder knowing that he could hold her in his arms and the world would become better within an instant compared to the measly hours it would take for her to control herself on her own. She cried harder at the notion, and wished to Merlin above that she could have Albus back…

The pain, she knew, would ebb eventually, but how long did it take for a great long love for someone to become into a less heart-wrenching emotion? It had been a year to the day. Perhaps it was worse because of this, seeing as she had given him a less than happy goodbye when he left that final night and she knew she had hurt him. She believed she would have time when he came back to apologize. She assumed the reoccurring, the constant, the pattern that had kept them together for more years than she cared to count. Surely, the night would remain the same, and she would apologize when he kissed the back of her neck before his attempt to head off to the couch. When in nights such as those, she pleaded with him to stay with her, whispering at the top of a stage whisper that she could not sleep alone. He would smile and nuzzle her hair before climbing into bed next to her and that would be it. He forgot to remember it. When they fought, she brought up all of his past mistakes, which made her even more furious with him; yet, he brought up none of her past wrongdoings, even when she sensed his disappointment in her. And that's what it always was. Cold disappointment. Never anger, which was far simpler to handle, having been bred in that very realm, yet, that cold disappointment which hurt more than anything did. And that's what she sensed before he left that night, knowing that he was travailing in danger -again- and refused to enlist her aid. What had bothered her the most, however, was none of these things, for this had been done countless of times by him. What had bothered her was the fact that he was bringing Harry, that he was putting Harry into danger when she could have gone in his place…

=~*~=

"Harry has to know…" He trailed off, his eyes groping and completely missing her feverishly searching eyes, which were scanning the length of the room as if looking for something. He knew she was avoiding his gaze.

"Of course Harry has to know… It's in his nature…" she repeated in that insane, high voice of hers that she adopted in desperation. "It would be best if Harry knew, after all… He is the chosen one, as they say…"

Albus looked to the heavens, wondering what on earth he needed to say to convince her that his actions were best without revealing enough to endanger her. It was growing tiring, dodging all of the questions she shot at him in anger when all he wished to do was pull her into his arms and tell her everything he knew. Yet, though he was sorely tempted, he knew it was best if Minerva knew nothing, that Minerva was blind to the things he knew. Voldemort would not capture her if he knew she knew nothing.

"Minerva…" he began helplessly, as she continued muttering to herself under her breath.

She whirled around to face him. "What? Is there something else you wish to tell me that I cannot know? What socks are you wearing tomorrow? Are they a 'secret' pair which will stop You-" she broke off here, rolled her eyes and whispered one word furiously, "Voldemort from gaining power? Well, that is just rich, Albus. I would have never guessed the secret was to defeat him with socks. No wonder you're so crazy about them."

Albus sighed. He knew getting her to understand that this was his last evening without telling her would be far too difficult. He could only do one thing under the circumstances…

He swept up behind her and hugged her tightly to his chest. Minerva fought him for a second before succumbing to the sheer warmth he granted.

"Minerva," he began again, gathering his courage around him before saying, "I am very sorry that I cannot tell you anything…" The tears came as he said this, but he held them back before continuing in that same, sad, broken tone, "If I could I would tell you everything. You are too precious to me, Minerva. I cannot tell you of what I am about to do. Harry needs to know to rid Voldemort forever. He cannot succeed without the information I am about to give him. He will be alright, I promise." He was glad that this was one promise he could keep indefinitely.

"Albus, just go… You're wasting precious time," she said darkly, stepping out of his embrace and backing to a cabinet chocked full of his whirring possessions. He stared at her for a moment, and Minerva realized at once what she had said hurt him. The twinkle evaporated into nothingness and she wished to Merlin above that the heavens would reopen and the stars would shine again.

He nodded to her, yet before she could stutter an apology, he said, "I love you, Minerva…" And then he was gone.

=~*~=

Her words lived on with her, hazing into her mind when she felt the most inadequate, the least loved. It hurt more knowing that he had loved her. Loved her. Truly and freely, he did, and he forgot to misjudge her. He loved her without any thought to who she was to everyone else. He loved her anyway.

She stopped crying at last, yet, the pain lingered, which was as vivid as his loving touch. It was an eternal ache in her heart; a wound that would never heal, for it continued to bleed daily. She continued to dwell on him, forcing herself to remember so she could not forget. Should a memory charm fire upon her one day, she vowed to retain him in her mind, even if she had to sacrifice remembering that she was a witch or even a professor. As long as she knew he still loved her, wherever he was, her life would be complete. She wouldn't look for another love, for she already had one, hidden within the innermost depths of her heart so no one could see through her flimsy façade and glimpse the pain she dwelled upon there. His love was dear, wonderful, forever. It would last even unto her dying breath upon forgetting all else. His name would be the last she uttered with her final breath, for she would only open her eyes again to see him standing over her, helping her to stand a second time, yet in a world where pain and humiliation failed to mark him, and where for once, she could not see his age.

She elected his presence. She gave her teaching position up at last and lived alone. Hogwarts became a distant memory, but him, she saw everywhere. He was in the sky just as it turned from night to awakening dawn; the most vivid of cerulean was seen there. He was in the gentle rain that lulled her to sleep at night, high among her Scotland mountains that were now her own. He was in the scent of the lemon trees she charmed to live on her land. He smelled so sweetly in the springtime.

Her days blurred and she realized one evening that something great and magnificent was about to happen. It was in this evening that she realized something she had not noticed since her isolation - she was old. Almost painfully so. It had come and gripped her so now her beauty was eclipsed by it. One hundred and thirty years passed since his death. That made her ancient. She smiled at what a great joke that had been between her and Albus. She labeled him as ancient with a little boy's spirit locked away within himself. It had definitely wiped the frowns from her face and replaced them with smiles. And that is what she did in this secluded home which was once her father's own place. She smiled everyday. She idly wondered if she forgot to frown and had tried it once, but it felt so foreign on her face that she replaced it with a smile. Perhaps this was why Albus smiled so much; a frown was much harder to accomplish.

She thought back to her time at Hogwarts and was surprised at how near those days seemed, as if she could still pluck them from memory and relive those many moments as a teacher. She observed a memory of her as Minerva the Professor and smiled at herself. She was so strict, so formidable… No wonder the students complained…

Then she laughed. She laughed so hard that her old cat leapt from her lap and hissed ferociously at her antics. She laughed so hard that she could not stop, and yet when she did, she discovered something wonderful, something that she had yearned for more than a chance to teach again. He returned to bring her home.

"Minerva…" His voice sounded loud in her ears even as he looked like a solid ghost of a form.

She smiled without realizing it, and gave him her hand. He pulled her to her feet, and carried her even as her age melted in sweet waves around her.

"You waited…" Her voice was accusing, yet Albus looked down and saw the beautiful, content smile that engulfed her face.

He smiled back, unable to contain his own joy. "Indeed, for over one hundred years… I did wonder if I should have retrieved you earlier…" He set her down, and they were in a distant place, where clouds rolled under their very feet.

Minerva looked down and found her shabby clothes gone into a dress of ivory white. Her hair was up again even though she knew she could not accomplish that since the sixty-ninth year after Albus's death. She smiled again at her surroundings, but her mood changed to somber and reflective.

"I wanted you to, Albus…" she trailed off, embarrassed to find that her tears could fall in such a joyous place.

He shushed her and held her to his chest again as he did the last night of his life. "I know, my precious sweet emerald. I wanted to come and hold you, just so you would know that I still loved you… I wanted you to gain the knowledge that I had; I wanted you to learn. I wanted you to discover happiness on your own…"

At the back of Minerva's mind, she recalled that these words might have offended her when they were both alive at one point in her life, but here, she knew they were sincere without any question. She could not accuse him of lying to her even if he did lie to her here. Here was too joyous, too fraught with happiness.

"I did find it, Albus…" she confessed in a whisper, her smile growing as he twirled her around and held her lightly as he dipped her near to the clouded floor. His hand massaged the back of her neck, and she sighed in pleasure as he pulled her back up and into his arms.

"Thank Merlin… I feared you wouldn't for a long time. I knew you needed the time alone to grieve, even though I wanted nothing more than to take you the year after my death…"

Minerva blushed, embarrassed again by another memory as she stepped from his embrace. "I suppose I seemed pretty pathetic then…" she said with a half-hearted grin, yet Albus placed his fingers on her lips before speaking again.

"You were grieving then, Minerva… Despite that you have truly learned to find happiness out of nothing, out of the very air you breathed each day, you have still forgotten that pain is not a weakness!" He tapped her nose with what was once his shriveled hand, and though this alone gave her reason to allow another heady smile to engulf her face with the very notion of his vitality here, she had something to add first.

"Your hand is fine again," she mentioned lightly.

He nodded, casting his gaze towards it and nodding again. "Indeed it is…"

"It does not pain you anymore?" she inquired, trying her best to hide the fire alight in her eyes as Albus examined his undamaged hand again.

He shook his head, making a fist with his hand several times, testing it. "Not anymore…"

Minerva took the hand in her own two hands and kissed each finger. "Would you show me how vital you remain, Albus?" she inquired, waiting to pounce on the prey. As his eyes shot at once to her own, she pulled him in with great leisure until he blinked a few times and picked her up again.

"With pleasure, Minerva…" he said as he carried her off to the mansion waiting for them. "With pleasure…"

She nestled comfortably in his embrace, reveling in the incredibility of his sustained love for her, and suddenly felt his voice rumble against her chest as he said more. "Minerva, do you know why I fell in love with you in the first place?"

She grinned mischievously; this could get fun. "Because I was the fairest in the land. I thought that was how it worked…"

He chuckled and she was pleased to feel it as well as hear it. She stroked his beard absently and then inquired tentatively, "Why do you bring it up?"

He put her on her feet at their doorstep and kissed each of her cheeks, her nose, and then finally, each lip, taking care to slide his tongue over each one. After he was through, Minerva leaned against one of the magnificent pillars, grateful for a solid force to hold her standing even though she knew she could not fall here.

"Minerva, I fell in love with you because I saw you beneath the stern exterior you presented," he said deeply, reaching out to stroke her cheek with his perfect hand. "I saw your heart before you did…"

"And what was in it that you saw?" Minerva asked in a whisper, her eyes closing gently as his fingers glided over her sensitive skin.

Albus beamed. "I saw you as you are now… I saw Minerva McGonagall, surely, but I also saw your compassion, your selflessness, your kindness, your love… You are such a caring person, Minerva…"

A smile tugged at both ends of her lips and she reluctantly succumbed. She was about to shoot something back at him about her simply reflecting what she strove to emulate, but Albus opened his mouth to speak again.

"I left you in your solitude, knowing full well that you could fend for yourself even if it did take some adjusting… You learned not only to find happiness, but also to love yourself as well and that made all the difference in the world… You have not changed a bit, Minerva. You are the same."

She answered with a tender kiss, and he repeated the gesture. However, it was Minerva who pulled them both in their mansion to make up for the time they had been apart. As they laid together, hours later, Minerva was convinced that finding happiness was definitely worth all of the heartache she went through… The pain, the grief, the chasm… It had all been for her good and had shown her what Albus had found within her that she needed different eyes to see clearly: the true essence of who she really was… A goddess, a saint, Minerva.

~Fin~

A/N: I wrote this about, oh, 2 AM this morning, and I edited it until about 4... I don't like it very much, but perhaps you will. :D I was inspired by a great number of things. One was Ame no Neko's fic entitled "Renewal", which is about Minerva grieving after Albus's death. The seond thing that inspired me was "Sherbet Lemons and Pumpkin Pie", by Waenthoronien, which was fluffy. (and both of those fics can be found on my list of favorites-- I was simply inspired to combine the two a bit). Also, a great deal of Josh Groban listening produced this fic, even though I can't really stand the guy myself. :D His songs are powerful though, and I recommend listening to them all the same. :D