A/N: Written for the 100 fanfic challenge. Just a short little bit of angst, from Minerva's POV.
023. Lovers
Minerva slipped in and out of consciousness. She would begin to slip into a blissful unawareness, then sharp, stabbing thoughts would pierce her back into wakefulness. They weren't even thoughts. They were words, words he had said to her earlier. Words like lovers, and destiny. Who did he think he was, to implant such notions into a girl's head? It's wrong. It's entirely wrong, and he knows it. That's why he wants it. He doesn't…
Try as she might, Minerva could not imagine Albus not loving her. It did not compute in her highly logical mind that Albus Dumbledore would not love her. This began years ago. It's all coming to a head now.
Her last year at Hogwarts as a student. Surely, she would become the Transfiguration professor once Albus – Professor Dumbledore – was promoted to Headmaster. Then these thoughts could be pursued. The man doesn't have patience. Patience…
"Miss McGonagall, it would be much easier to train to become an animagus after you graduated…"
"Professor, I would like to start now. I can handle the extra lessons."
"I'm not doubting your abilities, let me assure you…"
"Then would you train me, Professor?"
The twinkle in his eye gave him away before he gave the answer. "Of course, Miss McGonagall, but a little patience could take you a long way."
He was one to talk. The thought was bitter, but the realization it gave to her was more than fulfilling enough to overcome the momentary harshness.
"We're just the same," she said to the empty common room. Finally she slipped out of consciousness, words such as 'lovers' and 'destiny' having an entirely new meaning.