After a breath, there was nothing.
He merely looked at her. Looked, calmly and infuriatingly, into her eyes. They were wild hazel, like a windswept heather, the color of earth and plants and natural power- shattering.
"Say something."
Dumbledore refused. He was totally quiet in his staring, staring that had no judgment- no, rather, acceptance. He accepted the words she had said as if he had always known them, as if she had told him who he was or what planet they were on. But she hadn't- she had said three words that had forever rocked her stability, that had been rocking it for a long time now. She got up from where she sat, and began to pace. His stare- no emotion that might tell tale to his feelings on the matter, just that bloody acceptance, a thing that is so important in this world but never more painful than it was for Minerva at this time.
"Don't look at me like that. You don't know, you can'tve, you never knew. You never understood that there is more to me then a mind."
"Of course there is, Minerva. I know that."
"No you don't! If you knew me, knew me at all, you would have foreseen this. You would have stopped me. Wrote me a letter, told me that you never loved me, ended it quickly and painfully instead of letting me come up here and make a fool of myself! You would've known that's what I would've wanted!" Her hair was coming loose in tendrils now. She shoved them behind her ears and straightened her spectacles.
"Just because you would've preferred it… that doesn't mean that it is what you need."
His voice was slow. Apologetic. As if apologizing, not for this transgression, but for her nature that made her like this.
"Do you think I need this?" She asked wildly, her eyes swimming. "I don't need this! I hate it! I want to be normal and fine and stable, but you won't bloody let me!"
"Minerva. Answer me honestly. You know I don't feel this way about you. You didn't expect me to. And yet you come here anyway, like a true Gryffindor. And what for?"
"I know! I knew you didn't love me, and here I am, screaming it- Screaming that I love you, and maybe that's because it has to be said, because you have you hear it!"
"You have to hear it."
She recoiled as if she had been slapped. She shut her eyes. She didn't want to be anymore.
"You had to admit it to yourself."
"Spare me, Albus."
"Would that I could, Minerva. Pain is not something that can be spared. Only delayed, and then it comes again, stronger than before." She shook her head.
"I mean the mind games. The phsycology one-oh-one, For Merlin's sake, stop analyzing. Love isn't able to be analyzed, I would know, I tried. I don't fit into your notions of every person and what they feel and why. I am a goddamn professor at this humble school, as scientific as they come and even I know that this-" She gestured broadly to herself and disarray- "This thing you call love, this is it's primary form. Pain. And there is no science in it. Sometimes it hurts. Just let me hurt! Don't try to fix it. You can't fix it, you can't help me, I'm in love. I don't have to follow the rules of your wonderful mind!" Dumbledore merely looked tired. When he spoke, it was a low voice.
"What do you want from me, Minerva? Other then what I have no chance of giving?"
She looked at him. "Just don't think lowly of me for being this way. For being human, a human witch. I know you can't find me equal with your superior intellect, but-"
"Childishness does not become a woman of your majesty, Min-"
"If you cannot recognize that love can wound as it can heal, your ignorance is as great as that of He Who Must Not Be Named."
"Fear of a name-"
"-Increases fear of the thing itself. As it is with the dark lord, so it is here."
"I do not fear love."
"You do not understand it." Albus looked up, and a bit of coldness seeped into his eyes.
"Do not presume to know me, or of my past."
"Never, Headmaster. You would never let me. Tell me, do you alienate everyone who gets close to you? Is that why you cannot know love?"
"If you are quite finished, Minerva…"
"I am not."
"Then get to your conclusion, and leave me."
"You called me childish for acknowledging this kind of superiority."
"The conclusion, Professor."
"I love you."
There was silence.
"I also really dislike you, right now."
"Do you think that will make it easier?" He asked, resigned.
"No. I told you- you can't fix me, however you might try."
"Time…"
"Doubtful. You're grasping at straws." She said, settling back into herself. Her posture was once again perfectly upright, if a bit resigned. Her manner quick and sharp witted.
"I am aware."
"Once again, professor. That is doubtful. You'll never know just how much."
He sighed, And Minerva McGonagall picked up her tartan briefcase, and tugged her blazer of the same pattern back into place, before stowing her wand in it and perching her pointed atop her head, which was, somehow and miraculously back in its tighter then tight bun. She looked one last time at the brilliant wizard, and could not leave in anger with the man she so loved- instead she would leave in sorrow.
"I'm sorry. I know, my… feeling the way I do, I know it is incredibly hard for you. I wish I could change… feel the same as you, and not… care… but that is a dream I cannot dwell on. For now, Headmaster." She left the room at a brisk pace. He watched her go.
"I was thinking the same of myself."
Peace, Love, Reviews!