A/N: Um... Hi. *waves awkwardly* I've debated about posting this for three days now, but now I've decided to. Why the hesitation? I wrote this in response to having to put my seventeen-year-old cat to sleep. And this totally didn't turn out how I planned it either, but I'll save that other idea for later. And to spread some...gah... something after her death, I gotta tell all of you out there: Her name was Dirtbag. :D Also, as stupid as it sounds, I dedicate this to her! Gah! *runs off to start crying alone*
Now Nothing's Easy
"Where are you?"
It was like a whisper, fluid and unmoving in the night; unmoving because there was no one to hear it. The night was as solid as it had always been, unyielding to a single breath—in spite of it, the night grew longer and later, and the sun never appeared to shine.
But he had been here once; that was what made his absence so painful—the fact that he had once resided here; so close and yet so very far away. And now he simply was not here anymore, and it just wasn't included in the illusion of continuity. He should be here, and yet he was not. Perhaps he never was…
The thought is almost too painful to consider, and raising a shriek to the sky, she removes every jewel he had ever given her—throwing them from the battlements as if they are poisonous, as if it would kill her to wear them another second. He couldn't possibly have resided here. Surely she dreamed him all up…
But people (oh, so many people!) insisting they knew him better than even her (how preposterous; he was married to her, no one else), implied that once, perhaps (and it was a very slim chance) he had lived.
How she hated those people, who strove to only remind her of what she had lost. If he were imagined, perhaps it wouldn't be so painful, perhaps she would be content to realize she could always dream up someone better, that she could find happiness in someone else, perhaps real and corporeal.
But was there better than he?
There was so much darkness in her world now; she knew the war was fast approaching and there was little more she could do for the children of the school—if there were even children remaining after the blood she was certain Voldemort would spill. She did hold the belief that Harry was the one to bring him down, but it was becoming glaringly obvious to her that he was a mere boy; how could he have been so sure? Even his firmly-held beliefs were placed under scrutiny; not only by her, but the entire Magical community. He had died at the hands of a friend he had told her over and over to trust…how could he not be faulted in believing Harry was to kill a man no one could kill? There had been so many unsuccessful attempts before the boy was even born—all had failed, and though a few were vengeful spouses, a few were just so very powerful. If they could not slay this Darkness, then how could one boy defeat the undefeated? It was all just so hopeless…
"Minerva, a great Muggle once said, 'Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something is more important than fear'. There is much one can do with bravery—far more than what one can do with cowardice."
"But Albus," she felt herself replying in her mind before she had any control over it, "these words meant far more to me when you were living…now they are empty of their meaning. I can't have you constantly repeat things you've already said; how would they relate? How can you really know what is transpiring at this very moment?"
He apparently seemed to be expecting this. "Ah, my dear, have I not told you love transcends all time, space, and definition? How can something so powerful die upon death's door? Young Harry is a fine example of this—surely you do not believe I have left you standing all alone…"
"That is not the point, Albus," she sighed sadly.
He was silent a moment, and then, "I never left, my darling. But surely you believe in the good of the world? Indeed, things may appear dire at the moment, but understand you are not alone in this fight. There are many others, my dear, who have not the courage you have, who are wishing to stand up to those who oppress them, who are simply waiting for the inspiration to do so. There is much good in standing for oneself; you may just find yourself surrounded by people who believe the same things you do."
She was ready to protest once more, point out he had entirely forgotten Harry, when he said, "As I am certain you believe you are not alone, neither is Harry alone, my love. How could I leave this world, knowing what he is to face if I had not properly prepared him? Harry knows exactly what he is doing, and though his methods may not be entirely polished, he is merely attempting his best and that is all I had insisted he try and do. For if he should give up this fight, who would have the strength to pull through? So many look up to him my dear. As. They. Do. You. How can one as bright as you consider something so selfish, so entirely cowardly? There is a stronger woman in you, Minerva, and I know her very well indeed. Surely you can coax her to come out to play again…"
She was speechless, breathless with his accuracy…How else could he have touched upon the very things she had not even admitted to herself? Ah, but he was imprinted into her memory…perhaps the knowledge and wisdom was in herself all along.
However, there was one thing he didn't mention. "What of Snape? You were so certain of his loyalty, but I'm afraid I need more confirmation than this—why else would you trust him so much when he was to kill you in the end? You are far wiser than I am, Albus. Why did you not see it coming?"
She could almost hear him chuckling on the wind. Maybe, perhaps… "Minerva, have you not been listening with that keen ear you have? I chose to leave this world. I trust Severus completely, and like Rubeus, I trust him with my life—"
And even though she could no longer hear his words, the wind whistled suddenly and sounded suspiciously like, "And also with my death."
At first light, Minerva McGonagall dressed and exited her rooms for the first time following the great Albus Dumbledore's death, and retrieved all of her deposited jewels, one by one.