Disclaimer: Not mine, of course!
A/N: Never written a proper Minerva before, so I don't know how good this will be. Please review and tell me your favourite sections or lines. I cant improve on her character if you don't!

I.

Minerva looked over the top of her glasses; entirely perplexed. 'You want a werewolf in the school? Albus that is unspeakably dangerous!'

'I'm so very sorry you think so.' Albus replied, his eyes twinkling as his face crinkled into a smile. 'Because I've already sent his letter.'

'But… but…' She was utterly speechless. She didn't understand Albus Dumbledore, not one little bit. Where she relied on fact and knowledge, he relied on faith and love. But this was unfathomable. He was putting them all in danger.

'What about full moons?' She asked, trying to find a fault, any fault.

'My dear Minerva, arrangements are being made, I assure you the students are going perfectly safe.' He said. 'It'd be an awful pity if you were unhappy about it.'

She looked away from him. 'What's he like?'

He smiled, knowing he was beginning to persuade her. 'Charming young man by the name of Remus Lupin.'

She nodded. 'Very well, but I shall have you know I believe you're making a big mistake.'

She got up, leaving the office, her mind concocting the most incredulous of ideas.

Minerva sits in her chair, looking out over her busy class. In the back row sits James Potter, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin, who she is forced to agree is indeed a most charming and hardworking person. He is known to be less of a monster than some the other current students. She has never been gladder to be wrong.

II.

She clasped her hand to her mouth, shaking her head so violently her hair began to fall from it's restraint. 'No! It can't be true!'

Albus placed his hand soothingly on her shoulder, expecting tears or a breakdown, something reserved for family. But she was not family, and she was not strong enough to confront her pain. She was a Gryffindor of true standards.

She shrugged his hand away and fixed her hair.

She was in shock. How could she have missed that? Sirius Black was never well behaved, but never evil and never once did he turn away from his friends.

And yet he had betrayed them. He had lead You-Know-Who directly to them. He had killed Lily and James. He had made his godson an orphan.

Him, Sirius Black, who had always been so cheeky and charismatic.

Never before had she been so sadly mistaken. In that moment, she hated Black with everything she had.

Harry tells her the truth , after it is too late to apologize. She is beyond speechless then, sad for the years she has wasted hating when she should have known better. Minerva is delighted and embarrassed to have been wrong.

III.

'May I ask you a question, Minerva?' Albus asked. She looked into the face of her dear friend, one she had so often taken for granted.

'Yes, of course.' She replied primly, displaying, as usual, little emotion.

'Why are you fighting this war?' He said, gazing at her, anticipating her reaction.

She was usually bewildered by the questions the man asked, and today was no different. She resisted the urge to cock her head to the side as she considered her answer. Why was she fighting? For the same reason everyone else was fighting, surely.

'I am fighting to get rid of Voldemort' Minerva said surely, still a little confused.

'And that is all?' Albus replied. He was looking at her like he expected her to elaborate, but she had no more to say.

'Yes. That's all.'

He shook his head sadly, his bright eyes surprisingly sorry. 'Minerva, I can not pretend to understand what people think, or to guess why an individual is fighting, but you can be assured no one is fighting simply to get rid of a monster. No person puts their life on the line for that.'

'I can assure you Albus, that simply is the reason I am fighting.' She said, nose in the air.

Minerva was wrong then, too. She knows this as she sits at the Wedding of Ronald and Hermione Weasley. She fought for this. For love, and so this generation, and future generations, can live in the peace she never had the time to appreciate. She smiled, there always was method in Albus' madness, and she was never happier to have been wrong.

IV.

'NO!' She screamed. In Hagrid's large arms lay Harry, looking tiny and worthless. The boy couldn't be dead. He just couldn't.

Voldemort was talking, spawning lies about Harry. He had not tried to sneak away, been killed on the outskirts. The foolish boy must have gone to the forest, given himself up. Just as they had all feared he would.

It was over. It was over.

They had lost. They were doomed. Her students and friends might not even survive the day.

But Harry Potter could not be dead. He would jump up in a minute, and he'd live again. She almost didn't care if he came back to finish the job, if he was alive then they would all fight for him.

She had failed, they had all failed. She had failed to prepare him for the job. Her, Albus, the other teachers, even his parents. They hadn't protected or taught him well enough.

It was over, and Minerva could not even conjure the strength to plan their next move. She only just has the strength to keep standing tall and proud, wand in hand.

Under an hour later, it is really over. Potter is standing, looking, completely befuddled , at the dead form of his enemy on the floor. She is one of the first to reach him, no longer caring about keeping up appearances. She touches him, making sure he is real and alive. She cheers and screams as loud as everyone else when she finds he is, and it is over. She feels ashamed of herself of that awful moment where she believed it was truly over, that they had lost. Never has she been prouder to have been wrong.

V.

Minerva looked around her bare office.

It has always been bare. She found it distracted her less from her work that way. She had no photographs of friends or cuttings from newspapers, like she had seen in the offices of other staff members. She had no portraits, like Albus had in his office. Even Severus had items he liked to keep close by.

She had a chair, high and uncomfortable, a desk, large enough for all her many papers, and a pensive. Her pensieve had long been empty, brought for her as a gift in which to store her most enticing and wonderful memories. Except, when the silvery liquid flowed from Minerva to the pensieve, the memories were not nice and happy. Most of her life had been spent at war, a constant fight. She didn't want to store these memories. She wanted to forget them.

Looking around this time, however, she wished she had a little more than she did. Collected some knick knacks, made some happier memories. She wished she had not pushed away the people she loved. She wished she had a family.

Minerva had always been a little jealous of Molly Weasley. She has lost far less loved ones than Minerva had. At least she still had a family to love.

Because she had never had a family, not really, and it was too late now.

Minerva receives a letter from Bill Weasley, proudly announcing the birth's of his twins, Dominique and Louis. A tear escapes her eye and rolls down her cheek, the first for years, as she read the names of the twins. Louis Charlie and Dominique Minerva. She was wrong. She has a family, she knows, and doubting them was her greatest mistake.