Minerva Gaia McGonagall stood upon the bridge; her long gray braid and dark robes swayed gently in the breeze. The Headmistress' green eyes were puffy and red, despite the fact that she was quite pale otherwise. It wasn't at all long ago, really, that those eyes had shimmered with mirth and joy, brought to her by her soul mate.
That's what she had thought, at least.
That's what she had thought most of their relationship. In fact, she remembered the exact moment the thought coursed through her head that maybe, love existed in its true and pure forms as well. She remembered very well the moment she let herself carefully consider the idea of 'soul mates', and not just as a myth that she had always been told when she was little. Minerva Gaia McGonagall had believed in it, up until that morning. Maybe love was a myth and nothing more after all. Maybe 'love' was what people called being with their favorite person.
The Headmistress of Hogwarts never would have thought that all the happy moments and memories that she had made with Hermione over the past year and a half were times that she would look back on with mixed feelings. She couldn't help but doubt their sincerity today, though. Maybe it was all a lie and nothing more or less than that.
How, dear Merlin, could she ever have believed, even for one moment, that anyone, let alone a woman as beautiful and as amazing as Hermione, would fall for her? How the hell could she ever have thought that she would be enough, and that Hermione wouldn't one day stop and realize that what she was doing was throw the rest of her life away entirely, as she lay in Minerva's arms every night?
Hermione could tell her she still loved her as many times as she wanted, but love didn't change the fact that being with a woman half a century her senior would always lead to being 'unfulfilled' in life, as they looked for other things in life and future. The dream had shattered in a million pieces, and now the mirror that was their memories, their relationship, was broken as well, and the cracks would forever show to anyone who dared to look close enough. Some cracks were harsh and long and deep, while others were maybe smaller, but, in all, it was still this big web of heartache.
She didn't not blame Hermione in a way. After all, hadn't she warned her for all this? Above all, though, Minerva Gaia McGonagall blamed herself for not having been any smarter than that... instead having let her resolve crumble at the thought of being loved for who she was underneath the persona that many saw her as alone. The Headmistress of Hogwarts, legendary or not, after all, needed love like every other person, magical or not.
Today, Minerva Gaia McGonagall didn't believe love existed ── not anymore ── and she never would again either.