Saved by Suicide
Steam rose from the bath and mingled with the floating scent of lavender. A soft sigh escaped the reclining woman in the large swirling water. Whispered words in Gaelic echoed through the large bathroom. It was neither a picture of peace nor contentment; but rather one of sorrow. Each word that Minerva whispered was one said in pain; a pain so deeply felt that not even her native tongue could fully say it.
Professor McGonagall hated baths. She hated being immersed in water, period. Showers in themselves were five minutes when she took them and water was only used to wash away the shampoo and soap. Therefore the reasoning behind the Transfiguration Professor's bath had nothing to do with pleasure or even cleanliness.
Ironically, she had no plans to ever leave the faintly bumbling water. Although Minerva knew that no one at Hogwarts, or in the wizard world, would understand her desire to end her life; it did not faze her in the slightest.
She had taught more than three generations of students. Each year became harder for her as more and more of her former students joined the long list of dead. They seemed to all trust her with the task of teaching their children. It seemed ironic that the woman who had never even been on a date was a mother figure to more people than could be counted.
It was for a reason that none of her colleagues or students, neither current nor former, would ever even speculate…Minerva McGonagall had nothing left to live for.
The steam relaxed her slightly but still she remained resolved to finish what she had decided to start. Fear crept into her mind but what was left of her stubbornness drove it out. She would not die afraid. She had been afraid for too long.
Without taking another life giving breath, Minerva slipped under the water's warm surface.
Her eyes closed as she became immersed in the water and at first the panic that naturally rose in her mind made it difficult to stay under the water. But she could make herself do anything. Logically she had not taken her final bath in her birthday suit, as Minerva knew that someone would have to have the dreary job of fishing her out of the water. Her heavy tartan robes weighed her light frame down and she sunk to rest on the bottom of the tub.
Faces flashed through her mind like too many choices on a menu. First flashed Albus Dumbledore, former Headmaster of Hogwarts. He had been Minerva's first and only love; yet never more than her very best friend. Like so many before him, Albus was dead.
After Albus' smiling face had vanished, James and Lily Potter both appeared. Minerva had taught them, given them detentions and even scolded them for snogging in the most inappropriate places and times. Then she had taught their son, Harry. It had always amazed her how much alike Harry and James had been. But they had one very large difference to help her keep them apart. James was dead and Harry wasn't.
More faces flashed through her mind causing her great pain as she had witnessed many of their deaths. None had died peacefully in their sleep.
Suddenly as death disguised as darkness reached out to take her into its grip, Minerva decided to continue living. It was the memory, ironically, of all the dead that changed her mind. She found that as she remembered each person that they had all died valiantly or had died to save someone else. It seemed a waste to throw her life away.
Only one little thing hindered Minerva's recanting…her robes were much too heavy.
The next chapter has already been written and I will post it, if I already have not.
Cheerio,
Merciful Heavens