A one shot about how Minerva deals with her pain. Everything goes to J. , without whom my life would be completely different!
For almost a year she had been holding the tears in. For almost a year she had been living behind her steel mask that hid her grief and pain from the outside world so well that nobody guessed a thing. For almost a year she had not laughed, nor even smiled. For almost a year she had been but an empty shell, only existing through her shallow breaths that threatened to catch at any point and let the cascade of tears tumble down her pale cheeks. But now, it was all over. She could breathe again. She could laugh and she could smile again. Or so she thought.
She had thought that once it had all finished, it would be over. The grief, the pain, the overwhelming sense of loneliness would be lifted off of her shoulders. The feeling of carrying the whole world's problems would disappear. But it didn't.
She knew the moment that it should have. It should have been the moment when the world around her erupted into cheers, applause and tears of happiness. The moment when Harry had fulfilled his prophecy. But it wasn't. Try as she could, she simply could not bring herself to smile again. So many had been lost. So many young, innocent children (or even adults, she hated to think of them grown up) that were so brave and so hopeful. Was it right that all these hearts should be slaughtered, simply to stop the cold stone one of another? She didn't think so. Or at least, not at that moment.
Around her, people were hugging their loved ones, mourning for their lost ones, and congratulating the Chosen One. But she had no one to hug, no one to mourn. Not any more. Not since that fateful June last year. She could still remember Harry telling her, and how she had refused to believe it. Even after she saw his suddenly powerless, unusually small and frail body lying at the bottom of the Astronomy Tower, she still refused to believe it. She kept expecting for some miracle, for some strange twist of magic that would bring him back. But then she realised that he had never kept her waiting, not in the long years that they had spent together. He had always come back to her as soon as he could. He wouldn't leave her waiting now, not if he could help it. Albus Dumbledore, the love of her life, had gone. And that thought, that single most terrible thought, killed her. It was as though a part of her had been killed with him. So for a year, she lived aimlessly. What was the point in trying, if he was gone?
But now, almost a year after that terrible day, she could finally let go. It was as if she could finally mourn for him, and finally move on. She now knew the truth about his death; she only wished he had told her about his plans. But then again, he always had liked surprises. That was one of the things she had always loved about him. She laughed at this thought, and then she couldn't stop. She laughed until her sides ached, until the laughs turned into sobs that racked her frail body, and caused her to fall to the ground as her knees buckled. All the grief that had been building up inside her finally came free, and as the pain slid down her cheeks and dropped to the ground, the immense heaviness weighing on her shoulders began to lift. The sobs turned into shallow breathing, until finally, she had no more tears to cry.
For almost a year she had been holding the tears in. For almost a year she had been living behind her steel mask that hid her grief and pain from the outside world so well that nobody guessed a thing. For almost a year she had not laughed, nor even smiled. For almost a year she had been but an empty shell, only existing through her shallow breaths that threatened to catch at any point and let the cascade of tears tumble down her pale cheeks. But now, Minerva McGonagall had finally let the tears go. She could finally take off her icy façade, and replace it with the warm, gentle persona that was her own. She could laugh, she could smile, and above all, she could live again.
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