A/N: This story is dedicated to my Moonbeam. Even though we weren't meant to be together, I will always love you.
Disclamier: Miss Rowling owns Harry Potter. I own an obsession with Minerva.
Time is the fire in which we burn
I hear her cough. Or rather, I feel her cough. Because every time she does, I feel like a dagger rips through my entire body. As if I need another reminder that the time is coming closer and closer. The time we have together is ending.
With a deep sigh I enter her room. She immediately sees right through my forced smile.
"I'm sounding worse than I feel", she manages to rasp, trying to give me a reassuring smile.
She is half-sitting on her side of the bed we have shared for 36 years now. I sit down on my side and hand her a glass of water. She gracefully accepts it. When I force myself to keep my smile she holds out her hand to me.
"You can wipe that smug of your face, I'm not dead yet", she jokes.
I appreciate the joke, I do, but the scene in front of me is too heartbreaking.
I sigh again and take her hand, watching her take a sip of the water. Her hand is soft. After all these years, it is still soft to the touch. After all the years we have been together, she is still soft to touch, and my love for her has done nothing but grow. Grow for this wonderful woman.
This wonderful, dying, woman.
"Read me something more."
I laugh quietly. For reasons unbeknownst to us both, I have taken the habit of reading to her from my old journals. As I flip through the pages an old withered leaf slowly falls out and lands in my lap. Smiling for real this time, I carefully lift it and place it in her hand.
Her brows furrows slightly as she turns it over in her hand to examine it closer.
"What's this?" she queries.
"From the transfiguration courtyard", I explain. "I could sit under the tree there for hours, waiting for just the smallest glimpse of you as you passed the outer corridor."
As a tiny chuckle escapes her throat, I position myself comfortably and begin to read.
May 17th 1995
Here I am again. Sitting under the tree, waiting for her. This is getting ridiculous; I have actually learnt not only my own timetable, but hers as well! Harry and Ron are off spying on some Beauxbatton girls. Before the Yule Ball, they didn't even wanna be near any girls. Now, they suddenly can't wait to show off some muscles and…
I'm being unfair, I know. But if they only knew my secret, maybe they could ask me to join them. Maybe I can find a nice girl from France. That would be better than sitting here.
Why was I sitting here again?
Oh right.
Her.
I wonder how many times I have glanced in the direction she'll come from. 100? 1000?
And how many hours have I spent here?
….
aaaargh!!!!
She just passed me. She was earlier than usual, and she saw me. I mean she looked at me. She looked right at me. And she gave me the oddest look. What if she has noticed something? What if she knows?!
My heart is beating so fast.
Calm down Hermione, she can't know – can she?
Deep breaths.
Deep breaths.
As I place the journal in my lap I notice a mischievous grin on her face. I haven't seen her grin like that for a long time now and the sight makes the lump in my throat hurt. The lump that has been my constant companion for quite some time now. I try to fight it off by clearing my throat. It doesn't help.
Oh well, it was worth a try.
"I had forgotten you used to sit under that tree. The strange thing is, it never occurred to me why you did. I was just pleased to have you nearby."
Smiling I shift upon the bed so that my head is resting on her shoulder.
"'Pleased to have me nearby'?" I tease.
A tiny chuckle escapes her throat.
"Did you already know you loved me at that time?"
I feel her sigh, but just as she is about to answer my question, that awful cough takes over her body and for a long moment her entire body is twining and turning. I sit up and hold her shivering body close to mine.
"It's all right", I whisper. "It will be over soon."
---
She is sleeping now. I have been watching over her as sleep has taken over her body; exhausted from all the coughing. I have been watching over her as the day has turned into night and now the moon is casting shadows in every corner of the room.
The stifling summer heat is not affecting her old body, but I am not unaffected. Slowly I leave the room and descend the stairs. As I exit through the front door and step out into the moonlight, I turn and look at the little house. It has been my home for as long as I can remember. Roughly all my adult life. We did live in a flat in London for a handful of years, but we both always considered Broom Cottage to be our real home.
It will not continue to be so for long. I have already decided not to stay after she…
It will be too painful, and too lonely.
Maybe I will do what Minerva has suggested; return to Hogwarts to become a teacher there.
Minerva…
I can hear her coughs through the open window upstairs. She must be coughing in her sleep, since there are no more sounds that I can hear.
Minerva…
---
It is morning. I am sitting behind her, braiding her long silvery hair. Slowly I let my fingers follow the long strides of hair. Peaking over her shoulder I see her unfocused eyes. Her thoughts must be far away. She is so tired. She does not sleep well at night anymore.
When I am finished with her hair I rise and extend my hand to her.
"Come, let's have some breakfast."
She shakes her head.
"No not yet. Please, read me something more love. I'm too tired to move anywhere."
I cannot help but chuckle. I bend close to her.
"What is it about my old diaries that fascinate you so?" I ask as I plant a kiss on her forehead.
She looks almost apologetic.
"I want to remember", she admits, drawing me closer.
I reach for one of my old journals from my bedside table and settle down beside her. She slides down and put her head in my lap.
With one hand lazily resting on her head, I open a page at random and begin to read.
December 21st 1995
The holidays are the worst of it all. Finally being able to relax from the frustration and anticipation and longing to see her every day. But also missing her so much I want to cry. All I have is a piece of paper with my name on it in her handwriting. It is nothing personal, yet I cherish it as gold.
Oh Merlin. What is it about this woman that makes my heart ache this way? Why can I not simply let her go? Why has my heart set upon this bloody woman?
As I flip through the pages I find, to my great surprise, some poems. I had forgotten I use to write so epic.
I see you smile every day
Hiding the way I feel
I want so much to tell you my secret
But my lips are sealed
I love you with all my heart
But you will never know
My feelings for you must be locked away
I can only hope they will never show
I never cease to be amazed
How mysterious you are as a deep lake
Now my heart must suffer in silence
Because of the chance I can never take
She shifts her weight a bit on the bed.
Looking up I meet her gaze.
"Want another?"
A nod is all the confirmation I receive.
I like to imagine how you wake up at night
Not a memory in sight
But a strange feeling has stayed
Not remembering makes you dismayed
My shining eyes are always stealing glances
I cannot stop thinking about taking chances
You are so courageous and own so much strength
Nothing I will ever experience
To its fullest length
"That's beautiful."
For a fleeting moment I'm confused.
"Huh?"
She turns her head in my lap and look at me.
"I said those poems are beautiful."
I smile lovingly at her and stretch my hand out to caress her cheek.
"I don't even remember writing them", I confess.
She shifts her body again. Supporting her head with her elbow, she gives me that little mischievous grin of hers. This time it does not hurt just as much to see it.
"How come you never showed this to me before?"
I try to think of an answer. It takes me so long she can't stop herself from laughing.
"Choose another book", she requests.
I lean over to my bedside table and take another journal. She puts her head back in my lap and I start to read.
August 13th 1998
Although it's been a few weeks now, I sometimes look at her and wonder how it really can be true. She is so beautiful. But then she looks at me with a little smile, as though she's hiding a secret, and I hear birds singing and…
Yes, yes I know, it sound mushy and romantic, but it's the truth! I love her.
Merlin.
I love her, and she allows me to love her, because – best of all – she loves me back!!!
And when she holds me in her arms and say so… when I hear her say 'I love you'. Never ever will I grow tired of hearing her say that to me, and never ever will I grow tired of telling her!
And the way she kiss! And touch me and…
Where was I? How long have I been sitting here? I started thinking about kissing her and then I was lost for a while. Maybe I should seek her out and act those thoughts out instead of just sitting here.
---
"Can I get you anything?"
She opens her weary eyes and looks at me. Smiling she shakes her head, then seems so change her mind.
"Actually, there is", she rasps.
Worn out and fatigued as she is, from old age and inability to sleep well at nights, she often takes afternoon naps, and her voice is still sleepy.
"In the top drawer there's a small package."
With a curious expression upon my face, I rise from the bed and head for the drawer. And yes, there is a small brown package. I return to the bed and sit down close to her.
"Well?" She asks.
"Well what?"
"Aren't you going to open it?"
I look at the package in my hands.
"It's for me?" My voice is suddenly trembling.
And she gives me that smile again. The kind of mischievous grin only Minerva McGonagall can make. Somewhere deep within me, a brief but sharp pain cuts through me.
Slowly, trying to calm my trembling hands, I start to unwrap the package.
It is a tiny box made of dark green velvet. Holding my breath, I open it. And then my heart stops.
A ring.
A silver ring.
With one single stone.
A green stone.
Exactly the same emerald green as her eyes.
It takes me a full minute before I can find my voice.
"Minerva, it's beautiful…"
She smiles warmly at me.
"Since we never married, I wanted to give you…"
Her voice trails off.
"Thank you", I whisper, trying to blink my tears away.
"No", she smiles. "Thank you."
She reaches up one hand and caresses my cheek.
"Thank you for taking care of me."
She looks like she wants to say something more, but does not seem to find any words. Instead she gives me a warm smile.
I shut my eyes tight to fight the tears. She doesn't need to say anything more; I know what she wants to say. After a moment, I open my eyes and look at the ring in my hand. Slowly, I put it on my left ring finger.
As my eyes rise to seek hers, I find them closed. She opens her eyes and looks at me, and we both know it.
This is the end.
I squeeze her hand and get a faint one back. That is all she can manage; a faint squeeze with her fingers. She is too tired to do anything else. As my eyes begin to water I witness a tiny smile on her lips. She doesn't want me to cry. But how can I not? We have shared so much and now we are about to part forever. And I have to find my own way from here on.
I hear her take a deep breath and she closes her eyes for the last time. The air does not exit her lungs.
She is gone.
And in that moment I finally allow my tears to come freely.
The End