Love: it is a four letter word not a big word but that one four little word holds more weight to it than any other word. You remember your first love, the first time you said that word to someone other than family, and you always remember your true love until that last breath. That four-letter word had affected the life of Minerva McGonagall more than what anyone knew, people looked at her and said to her face that they loved and respected her. Then as they walked away would say what would an old spinster like her know of love, just a four-letter word and it could stab you in the heart and leave you with more pain than what any blade or wand could.
Her home was warm with the heating charms and the fire in the fireplace, but her heart was growing cold. She had love many times before, the first love that always stays and leaves happy and painful memories, the first time she told someone she loved them and it was not her mother or father. What she remembered most was her true love, that love that caught her completely off guard, threw her into a whorl wind of passion, lust, acceptance but also love.
Standing up she felt more than her body ache, she was an old women but more middle aged in the wizarding world. A chuckle left her lips as she thought of that as she realized old women indeed, who fell in love with a young woman a former student at that. It was all gone though as she slowly walked to the staircase, her long fingers sliding along the railing. The ancient wood smooth to the touch allowing her the support she needed, the stairs creaking under her lightweight giving the same support. Making it to the top of the stairs her movements slowed down as she came to her bedroom and looked in, the bed was still askew. Sheets and blankets pushed around, allowing movement to her legs she carried herself with what strength she had left to the bed and fell onto it grabbing a hold of the pillow, her lungs inhaled the scent of the faint shampoo and perfume left on it.
Tears began slipping down the war stained face, laying down her head fell onto the pillow the whole time she kept inhaling every bit she could not wanting to ever forget the smell of the young women. If people saw her, they would surely think she had gone mad, which was not far from the truth. She had gone mad; madly in love and now that person was gone from the world: forever. Allowing images to flash through her mind, all of them of that woman who had loved her more than anyone in her whole life. The pain was just becoming even more piercing, sitting up slowly she looked around the room and took everything in, as the memories of their final night together played out in the places of the room that it happened.
Her heart hurt, her mind was pounding with the weight and her lungs began to compress, as she could no longer take in any more. There was nothing left of Hermione, everything that was her is gone completely. Lying back down on the bed Minerva held the pillow close to her and allowed her broken heart to break and take what little life she had left with it.
Many died at the Battle of Hogwarts but only one died away from the battle and that was Minerva McGonagall, she died of a broken heart. That four-letter word that has such weight killed her because her true love was no longer in this world, love was on some religious plane far away and the only way to reach that love again was to let that plane claim her.
