Lemon Drops (PG)
Blaise Zira Ookami (firewolfalpha)
I never thought that this office would be mine.
It doesn't seem like it is, really. I doubt it ever will. For so many years it was his. And now it feels as if I am once again a simple placeholder, as I was those few short years ago when the Chamber was reopened for the first time in half a century.
This time though, I am not.
There are few subtle differences, barely there at all, that tell me he won't be coming back.
Fawkes' perch is empty.
There are no more tins of lemon drops in the drawer.
The gargoyle's password is no longer candy-themed.
The nameplate on the desk now reads 'Headmistress Minerva McGonagall'. Funny how once one obtains one's goal, after a lifetime of waiting, one would give most anything to change things back the way they were before. My old post was given to Professor Vector. Being head of Ravenclaw House, she will no doubt do a marvolous job re-organizing the entire system. I'll miss walking the first years into the Great Hall every term.
But the worst reality of all is the portrait on the in the office … He – it – holds all of the logic, but none of the brilliance. The portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses are supposed to help guide those in the present in difficult times. He called on them for help. I will not. I cannot. I will not listen to his portrait … I can't even stand to look at it.
Some say time heals all wounds, but for his death, time is simply salt. Perhaps it was because of his insane little obsessions that could lighten up any moment. Perhaps it was the way any student could always call on him for help. Perhaps it was the way Hogwarts seemed to accept him almost as a part of herself.
Perhaps I am simply being selfish.
This office – his office – my office will never seem the same. That's the way it should be. Little reminders should linger in this space.
He will not be returning, this time.
He will not be here to say 'no harm done', and give a little chuckle with a twinkle in his eyes and a tin of lemon drops in hand.
Albus Dumbledore will be sorely missed, and though I will be his replacement, I will not make an effort to be him. Nobody ever could be.
Maybe though, just maybe, I'll stop by a muggle sweet shop. Muggle sweets were always his favorites. Maybe it's time to taste for myself. The many times he offered, I never accepted one of the lemon drops he was ever so fond of.
Knowing Albus, they were probably laced with a calming drought.
Not a bad idea.