Prompt #94- Last Hope

Albus's Point Of View

Minerva hangs limp in my arms. Her black school robes look silky in the moonlight as it pours down on our melancholy scene. But if her robes are beautiful, her hair is absolutely resplendent. So smooth, so beautiful. It hangs about her face. I see what I know to be a tear but looks to be small diamond slip through the air and continue on its plummet to Earth. But all this beauty only adds to the despair of this place. Oh, how I have longed to able to put my arms around her waist, but if only not in such a situation! With some struggling, I manage to bring her slender body back over the railing, and set her down with her back resting against the stone columns of the railing. Tears are streaking down her face, but this is the only sign the she is alive. Her chest is noticeably still, and her eyes are closed. As the moonlight reflects off of the unshed tears on her eyelashes, I am once again stunned by her sad beauty.

I bring out the note that had floated down to me. I read it again, and am startled to find that I also am crying. I replace it in my pocket. I look to Minerva, and find her eyes have opened, and how open they are! They are so open that I can see that they are not just mundane, common eyes. They are emerald portals to such desolation, despair, and desperation that I feel my heart breaking just bearing witness to such a sad point in existence.

Minerva blinks at me, and another tear slides solemnly down her face. Her voice has rose in pitch a miniscule amount, but aside from that there is no difference as she says,

"I'm sorry Professor, but how did you know I was up here? I used Disillusion on my way up, and my scream was the first sound I made." Wordlessly, I pull the letter out again. I say,

"You dropped this." Minerva's eyes alight on the note, and her drying eyes fill again. This time I pull her close to my chest, and she sobs into my robes. Not sure what else to do, I hold her. Merlin, it feels good to hold her. Even if she is delirious with the emotional pain of death and the fright near-death must bring on, it still feels good that she is letting me hold her and not fighting to get away. At the thought of her leaving, I hold her even closer, afraid that I will crush her. But she holds me even tighter. I whisper into her ear,

"Shush, Minerva. It's okay. You're okay. Do you want to talk about it?" I feel her nod into my robes. She sobs into my robes as she says,

"Mum and Papa died. And no one likes me. No one loves me and I have no one to love." I am shocked by her words. Not only is she one of the more popular girls among her friends, she has been going steady with the same boy Tom Riddle for a few months. Which is most likely why I despise him. How dare he kiss my Minerva? One minutes, when did this 'my Minerva' business come around? Never mind that Albus. I grit my teeth and ask,

"But what about Mr. Riddle?" Minerva's sobs come even harder. She gasps out,

"I don't love him! I hate him! He's a lying killing bastard!" Though her tears are still streaming into my robes and I can't see her face, I know her face is morphing from despairing to infuriation. Though I feel for her pain, I also feel something in my gut jumping for joy. She doesn't love him! All the same, I murmur the mandatory words,

"I'm sorry." Minerva nods. She removes her head from my robes, and her eyes are red and puffy. There are black make-up streaks down her face. Mascara, I think. She raises her lovely long legs unsteady. I leap up alongside her, and help her inside. Just as we pass the Astronomy door, the foreboding clouds overhead begin weeping over the Earth and its immense sorrow. Minerva removes her arm from around me, and we begin walking with a respectful no-touching zone between us. I had hoped that perhaps in her desire to love, she would perhaps hold my hand. But I know now that my hopes were in vain, and had no basis of logic. Merely wishful thinking, I fear. I sneak a glance over at her, and find that she is holding her hand out. I smile at her, and she smiles back. I extend my hand, and we walk closely down the hall, our hands intertwined. Hers is small, and to my surprise, it possesses a strength I didn't know young women had. I had expected something small, fragile, and trembling. But I smile as I realize I should have known better. I have often found a person's handshake is representative of their personality. Minerva's is small, and yet very powerful. How very fitting.

And now we are at the Gryffindor Common Room. I know I must leave her, against my will. Before I think better of it and change my mind, I kiss Minerva on her cheek. She blushes and smiles. I say,

"Goodnight, Minerva." She leans over and kisses me on the lips. She pulls away and says,

"Goodnight Albus." I watch her go through the porthole with a final wave. As I make my way back to my rooms, I think of our kisses. I had indeed made the first move. But she had taken it a step farther. One wonderful, glorious step farther.

I walk into my room. Fawkes is there to greet me. I stroke his head and say,

"Fawkes, I have a job for you. I want you to go down the 6th year Gryffindor girl's dormitory. Make sure that Minerva stays in her dorm." I trust that she is alright, but I still want to be sure.

Minerva lay in her bed when she heard a quiet little pop! She opened one eye slightly, and saw a large red bird sitting on the window seat. She smiled, and sighed happily as she snuggled deeper under the covers.