Author's Notes: I wanted to write another Albus/Minerva story prompted by Death Cab for Cutie lyrics (see my profile for the other one, Something's Got to Break You Down). These lyrics are from Bixby Canyon Bridge. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Death Cab for Cutie.
Her True Dream
You wonder if you're missing your dream
You can't see your dream
Minerva stares at the ceiling of the hotel room. The chipping white paint mixed with the cobwebs and dirt makes it look disgusting. She thinks that whoever is in charge of maintenance at the place ought to be fired, but at the same time she's grateful for the grimy ceiling and the distraction that it provides. She knows that she cannot lie in bed and stare at the ceiling forever, though, and she sighs.
She hates self examination almost as much as Divination, but she knows she needs to think about this. It is, after all, her future. It's how she will spend her life. The problem is, it makes her so unsure, and she hates being unsure. She doesn't know what she wants: it's as if somebody is holding up a book on Transfiguration and a chess board and only allowing her to take one.
This life isn't bad; she'd wanted to be an auror since she was a little girl, and she's finally living her dream. She's catching corrupt wizards and putting them in Azkaban where they belong. She's ridding the world of evil and making it a better place. It's been her ambition ever since she was a child, and she's now living it. This is her dream. It is. She tries to tell herself that she's never been happier, lying in a Austrian hotel bed, staring up at a filthy ceiling, but the other half of her breaks through the façade.
It isn't bad, doing what she's doing. It does give her satisfaction to jail evil wizards like she's always wanted to. She is avenging her father and his murder. She knew the instant that she saw that bastard Nimerel kill her father that this was her destiny: to put wizards like him behind bars to prevent more situations like hers from happening. No little girl should have to see a parent blown up by a heartless man with a wand. As she had cried over her father's remains, she had swore that she would prevent anything like this from ever happening again. After all of her training and studying she's finally here, and she's not sure that it is what she really wants. Minerva is upset that she isn't sure about it. She's supposed to be sure about it: this was avenging her father, after all. Still, she is no longer sure that this is truly is her destiny. Her dream.
It was the first time that she had been away from him in awhile. He'd always been there, all throughout her years at Hogwarts, and she hadn't gone far for her post seventh year studies. She misses the late night chess games, and the discussions, and the lemon drops. She didn't think she'd miss something seemingly trivial so much, but she had been wrong; she misses every single thing about Albus Dumbledore, lemon drops included.
She doesn't think she's ever been so close to someone else before, and the thought of loosing her connection with Albus frightens her. He is back at Hogwarts, and she is catching dark wizards in Austria. They're so far apart.
She doesn't deny that she's always dreamed of being an auror, but she also has another dream. This one involves Albus, and lace curtains, and children. A sweet simple cottage and a little girl with his hair and her eyes. Marital bliss.
These feelings - the missing and longing for him, so much that it makes her chest hurt, and the thought of that little girl are what made her question if being an auror was truly her dream. That was what brought the self examination on. What was her dream? A life with Albus, or a life of being an auror? Helping that sweet little auburn haired girl with homework or avenging her father? She doesn't know, and that's why she despises these self examinations: they just add to her confusion! Fuming, she glares back up at the ceiling. If Albus were here, he would probably make some comment about how she would bore a hole in the poor ceiling with the intensity of her glare.
She sighs. It would make things easier if she could blindly chose one, pick one of her dreams and forget about the other. She knows she cannot do that, however. She needs to pick the one that truly is right for her, so that she does not miss her true dream.