Author's note: This chapter goes with great pleasure to Professor McGonagall. I am not personally a member of her house, but she's a great inspiration to me :)

I hope you all enjoy!

Prologue: A period of darkness.

"Grief is love's unwillingness to let go." -Unknown

Minerva McGonagall wasn't an inherently unhappy person, and this she was sure of. Despite the past few years she'd experienced, she always made time to sit by the fire with a cup of hot tea and an open book. More was better when referring to knowledge, Minerva knew. As a teacher, she was always learning. And she hoped to teach the students that would now be entering Hogwarts through being Headmistress just as she had as Transfiguration teacher.

And this, she realized with a jolt, was no laughing matter. As a matter of a fact, it was quite the opposite. This would be the first year she'd spent in a long time with no Dumbledore nor Snape at her side.

Severus had been nothing less than a major annoyance, she recalled with a frown, but he proved his true intentions in the end, hadn't he? Yet she had no time to grieve.

Because as she was taking over where Albus had left off, Minerva not only had to fill the Muggle Studies and Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers' spots, but the Transfiguration spot as well. She sighed and leaned back against her chair, remarkably unhappy at the occurance.

Still, she had to be strong. Tomorrow, she'd find a new teacher for each spot. And each teacher would be just as strong as the last.

She was determined.

In the hours that came to pass, Minerva remarked, she slept in fits. Amazingly, her dreams consisted not of nightmares of the ever so recent battle of Hogwarts, but in fact of a number of conversations that she and Albus had shared during their time together.

She recalled her first Christmas at Hogwarts, remembering the gift that she'd presented him; a book on Transfiguration. Nervously, as Minerva had been quite young at the time, she told Albus that the book was written by Adalbert Waffling.

This was wrong. Waffling had not, in fact, written anything of the sort. Dumbledore laughed it off, but he did tell her to relax.

Minerva awoke when Professor Slughorn, a man not much older than her, sprouted a second head. She laughed slightly at the occurence, dismissing it as a childish dream. A memory. It took a few hours to coax herself into returning into her slumber, but she managed.

The night continued similarly. She didn't doubt that she'd be well exhausted by the time morning came, but simply could not convince herself to fall back asleep after being faced with a particularly vivid dream of a lesson in which James Potter had thrown several books at Severus' head. Minerva hastened to tell him off, but when she turned to Severus, he was full grown. He presumed to murder Sirius Black in a manner similar to how Dumbledore had passed, and Peter Pettigrew turned into Voldemort.

Minerva left her bed, glancing with distaste at the clock. It was only 4:00 AM, but there was no resting. She dressed and pointed her wand at a pot. Tea began to brew as she slumped into a chair in the dining room and held her face in her hands.

"Really now," she began to lecture herself. "If you don't get a hold of yourself soon, you'll have a breakdown." She supposed she'd better visit Poppy Pomfrey soon enough as well; the school year was soon to start anyhow.

The tea pot gave a whistle. With a start, Minerva pointed her wand at it, and it exploded. She released a breath, fixing it and the tea inside with a flick of her wrist. She strode to the pot and poured herself a cup of tea, manually this time.

To her surprise, her hand shook. She brough the cup to her lips and took a sip of the steaming substance, but disregarded the tangy burning sensation the boiling liquid left behind.

A few hours passed as she sipped tea, still standing at the kitchen counter. She sighed slightly; the clock said 6:00 AM.

She supposed she'd go to the first of her scheduled appointments, remembering with a groan that she had a busy day ahead of her. She finished her cup and placed it down, resolving to wash the dishes when she returned. She exited the kitchen and grabbed a Muggle garment- a black trench coat. Minerva left the house as she pulled it on, shocked by the face of cold air that she recieved.

On the other hand, it wasn't exactly unpleasant.

Minerva closed her eyes for a moment to regain her composure.

"You can do this," she breathed. "Get a move on, McGonagall."

Author's note: It's short, but expect longer chapters in the future?

I don't know. We'll see. Next chapter may or may not be from Minerva's point of view, but I do enjoy writing about people who are in mourning.

For the sake of things, if you are experiencing majoy grief and an inability to handle yourself, I definitely suggest getting professional help. Don't wait. Somebody is going to understand, and that I promise.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'll see you next time :)

~Candy Was Here.