There were no words to properly describe the bone deep, nauseating exhaustion Minerva felt.
That was alright though, truly, because she tried not to dwell on it. Any time her thoughts turned inward toward self-examination, Minerva could feel the panic start to rise. She couldn't have that. Not with so much at stake.
Severus Snape had descended upon Hogwarts with the Carrows in tow the day before the students arrived, plunging the castle into darkness, terror, confusion. The professors struggled to come to terms with their inner turmoil, torn between their rage at the present, daily reminder that Albus' murderer roamed free – in power, in their school – and a desperate need to keep their heads down in order to protect their students.
Minerva pushed the boundaries when she could, testing Snape's limits, fully aware she was gambling with her life. She needed to feel that she was actually doing something. It was not in her nature to be passive – quite the opposite, actually. But those times when she could not intervene on a student's behalf, the times when a student was attacked and she was not there to stop it, the mornings when the post came with more horrifying news – they all weighed on her conscience. Nevermind the fact Pomona repeatedly assured her she was already doing all she reasonably could.
She did not want to be reasonable.
Caffeine and deeply ingrained vigilance kept Minerva awake during the day. An anxious mind and terrifying, all too realistic nightmares kept her awake at night.
Pomona had disapproved of her quip about sleeping when she was—
The classroom door latched shut behind her, and Minerva snapped out of an almost trance-like state she hadn't even realized she had slipped into. A mistake. She took a deep breath, drew herself up, and turned to face her class. A group of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff first years who could not understand the horror they had arrived to on 1 September, but who still looked up at her with determination and defiance shining in their eyes. In spite of the fear.
They trusted her.
And so Minerva's nerves felt raw as she constantly scanned her surroundings, taking in every detail, ready to jump into action. Sleep eluded her, and she couldn't remember if she had eaten anything on any given day. She walked a thin line between keeping Hogwarts safe from its own inhabitants and keeping herself from being disposed of.
There were no words to properly describe the bone deep, nauseating exhaustion Minerva felt, but it didn't matter.
Minerva would give all she had to protect the children she'd already given her heart to.
A/N: To those of you who have me on your alerts because of my HP fics, thank you for your patience! I hope to have more HP fics out soon :) Also, I'm feeling a bit rusty, so sorry about that!
A/N2: I'm an artist (as in, that's who I am and it's also my day job), and I'm currently working on a series of portraits of women in the arts who have impacted my life. One of the women I'm featuring is JK Rowling! I'm using the portraits/the process to tell stories about my life AND stories from other people these women have impacted as well. SO, if you want more info on the project (I wrote a blog post explaining it in more detail) and/or you would like to share a story of how JKR (or any of the other women on the list, including some other HP ladies) has impacted your life, just let me know! :) My JKR portrait is almost finished, and I can't wait to share it!