It's A Damn Cold Night
by Nerweniel
DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Harry Potter world and/or the song "I'm With You", by Avril Lavigne.
Standing On The Bridge
"I'm standing on the bridge
I'm waiting in the dark
I thought that you'd be here by now"
Seventeen-year-old's Minerva McGonagall's carefully suppressed tears started falling as her feet, lightly, touched the final steps of the spiral staircase in the Astronomy Tower. The dark green, tartan hood of her cloak covered most of her face, but the moonlight painted diamond streams on the pale skin, coming from her eyes and going- going just nowhere.
Like she was.
Going nowhere. Going to where her mother was, there, far above. Where the stars rested.
As she reached the small platform on top of the tower, she looked up and, despite her tears, a wry smile arched her lips.
The deep, velvety sky had never seemed so close to her. If she raised her hand, her eyes closed, it was almost as if the hand of her mother touched hers, lightly… but only to slip away as soon as she re-opened her emerald eyes.
A gust of wind. That was all. No hand. No mother. No rest.
But the sky was close. So close.
In an almost impulsive movement, Minerva, her eyes closed tightly again, found herself climbing on top of the low wall that prevented students from falling down. From falling down!
Her own, throaty laugh pained her face as she threw off her cloak.
Falling down.
This was the bridge, she realized as her hair, now loose from her thick, black braid, fell down her back and flowed freely in the wind. This was the bridge to better, to the happiness the earth had never granted her.
So perhaps heaven would.
by Nerweniel
DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Harry Potter world and/or the song "I'm With You", by Avril Lavigne.
Standing On The Bridge
"I'm standing on the bridge
I'm waiting in the dark
I thought that you'd be here by now"
Seventeen-year-old's Minerva McGonagall's carefully suppressed tears started falling as her feet, lightly, touched the final steps of the spiral staircase in the Astronomy Tower. The dark green, tartan hood of her cloak covered most of her face, but the moonlight painted diamond streams on the pale skin, coming from her eyes and going- going just nowhere.
Like she was.
Going nowhere. Going to where her mother was, there, far above. Where the stars rested.
As she reached the small platform on top of the tower, she looked up and, despite her tears, a wry smile arched her lips.
The deep, velvety sky had never seemed so close to her. If she raised her hand, her eyes closed, it was almost as if the hand of her mother touched hers, lightly… but only to slip away as soon as she re-opened her emerald eyes.
A gust of wind. That was all. No hand. No mother. No rest.
But the sky was close. So close.
In an almost impulsive movement, Minerva, her eyes closed tightly again, found herself climbing on top of the low wall that prevented students from falling down. From falling down!
Her own, throaty laugh pained her face as she threw off her cloak.
Falling down.
This was the bridge, she realized as her hair, now loose from her thick, black braid, fell down her back and flowed freely in the wind. This was the bridge to better, to the happiness the earth had never granted her.
So perhaps heaven would.