Baby?
Minerva looked at the baby they had just layed before the wooden door of the Dursley´s. It was a cold night and even colder with the news she had just received...the Potters were dead. She couldn´t believe what had happened and she couldn´t do anything about it.
Albus was standing beside her; she could feel his prescence which was terribly conforting to her. She could hear his soft voice in her ear telling her that everything would be alright, offering her a sherbet lemon. She could imagine his soft, warm skin against hers, she could sense his lips touching all of her body. Oh, how she loved the man! But she knew that none of her fantasies would ever come true.
She then looked at the baby, so innocent, so beautiful. A tear went down her cheek as she thought of how much that liitle baby would have to stand, all the pain that poor little creature would have to bare. He looked so tiny wrapped in his matress...how she wished she had her own child. More tears started falling down and Albus noticed this instantly.
He faced her and hugged her tightly, whispering words of comfort and letting her cry and unleash her sadness. When she had stopped sobbing he asked what he wanted to know.
"What´s wrong Minerva?"
"It´s nothing." She whispered. He caressed her face gently with his hand, she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.
"Minerva, I will not take that for an answer, I need to know if I can help you, so, would you rather walk a little or go to the castle and talk there?"
"No Albus I can´t talk right now." She replied softly, new tears falling from her eyes. She walked backwards a few steps, away from him, and gave one last glance at the little baby.
She then turned and run away, not knowing why. She knew she could trust in Albus, the man she loved, but she couldn´t reveal him such a feeling, he was still his boss and he would probably fire her if she told him that she wanted to be the mother of his children. As she run the freezing air hit her wet face; she didn´t look back, she just run until she was far away.
