Chapter Six: Nothing Like The Sun
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Yet, though with difficulty, Minerva did enter the bathroom and managed to oppress her tears from falling as she saw the cup again. Perhaps it was true- perhaps she had indeed spilt all tears in her body last night. She so hoped it was true.
Because she didn't want to cry. Because she knew Albus wouldn't have wanted her to cry. Because nothing, not even her tears, could ever bring him back to her.
Never.
And that she had to realize, she kept repeating to herself. He was gone and she was still here- she would have to live with it. She felt, with every word, another knife cut straight through the torn-into-two organ that was her heart, but she knew she had to be hard with herself.
She could only hope- and that was, in fact, her only hope- that it was true what her mother had said to her so long ago. That there was a God, there high above. That there was a heaven, far away, where Albus now rested and where she would once rest as well, where she would fling her arms around him once more.
It was little hope, she knew, but it was her only hope.
And Hogwarts needed her now.
As Minerva slowly started to put on a long, black dress –emerald had suddenly lost all of its appeal- she realized at least that one thing.
Hogwarts needed her and she couldn't let the pain get the best of her. She couldn't die of grief, she couldn't "go with him" as she'd always declared she'd do if he died before her. She couldn't and she wouldn't. Her head suddenly snapped up as she proudly straightened her back.
Damn sure she wouldn't.
And with this thought in the back of her mind, Minerva McGonagall left her rooms and decided to do the thing she feared the most the first. Slowly, tremblingly, her hair loosely falling down her back- he had always liked it the most like that…- Minerva headed for the Headmaster's office.
The Headmistress's office.
Albus's office… which now was hers.
Because she, Minerva McGonagall, now was the newly appointed Headmistress of Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
This newly dawned realization quite shocked her, for some reason, though she did not know why. It was twenty-eight years now since she'd accepted the post of Deputy Headmistress- and some part of her must have known through all of those years that that meant she'd become Headmistress once. Yet somehow, it hadn't. She had always been the sidekick, the strong second-in-command, the dependable one whom you could rely on. Whom you did rely on.
Many people had relied on her and trusted her, and she'd had had her say in many things, but this- this new feeling of responsibility, of standing alone- was a new one.
It was true- many times she had supported Albus instead of he her, but in his way, with his chuckled, with the twinkle in his blue eyes which she knew shone for her alone, he had been so much more to her, so much more than even he himself had ever been able to perceive.
Minerva Dumbledore-McGonagall hadn't *loved* her husband. She had adored him. Minerva had been completely, utterly mad about him with every single fiber of her slender yet tough body.
Illogically, abnormally, crazily mad about him.
Perhaps it was because of that- because the Headmaster had been her husband- that she had never seriously thought about the fact of her succeeding him as the Headmistress.
One didn't think about the death of one's beloved.
And after all, who would have expected-
A dry, oppressed sob welled up in Minerva's throat, and not only because of her thoughts. Also- and mostly, somehow, because of the large, stone gargoyle now before her.
"Nothing like the sun" she uttered.
"My mistress's eyes are nothing like the sun"… yes, Albus and his Shakespeare. Sonnet CXXX. Ever his favorite.
Minerva slightly sobbed as she remembered, so long ago, the day he'd given her that particular sonnet as an engagement gift. It had been *their* sonnet, *their* poem, for more than forty years. Even their wedding rings had born- bore- the great Shakespeare's words.
Minerva brought her left hand closer to her eyes as she'd done so many times before and let her mind, again, absorb the text written on it.
"Albus and Minerva 1957"
and then, in miniscule letters carved into the silver
"As long as men can breathe or eyes can see."
But it hadn't endured that long… At least, not in life. But in death they would be together again. That Minerva had to remember. She had to- she had to!
Only with the greatest difficulty, Minerva tore her gaze off the thin wedding ring and entered the now open, ebony wood door of his- her!- office. She had not walked two steps when she froze again. The small, golden sign on the large, mahogany desk confronted her once more with the harsh reality. The thing had been bewitched centuries ago, so that it always showed the name of Hogwarts' present Headmaster. And there, in black, curly letters stood, neatly carven against the gold
"Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry".
Though the most touching, it wasn't the only thing that had changed. The desk had apparently been- programmed?- to clean itself after the death of the Headmaster. All Albus Dumbledore's papers, pictures, books and- of course- his beloved lemon drops now lay neatly piled up in a corner. Ready to remove them.
Minerva knew she'd throw nothing away, though. With something between a smile and a sob, Minerva took up a picture from the floor and carefully placed it back on top of the desk. It was an old picture- a very old picture- but Minerva remembered the day it had been taken as if it was yesterday. The Ball because of the appointment of a new Minister of Magic- Andrenius Theon it had been, in- in 1948.
And so, a young, smiling Minerva McGonagall waved at a much older and much wearier one. The young, auburn-bearded Albus Dumbledore to whose arm she clung smiled and waved as well.
As the older Minerva noticed the sparkle of happiness in the emerald green eyes of the younger one, those very same eyes filled with tears.
"Albus…" Minerva muttered, pressing the picture against her heart with all strength she had left.
~*~
It was like that, sitting on the bare, stone floor with the picture in her hands, slowly rocking back and forth, that Severus Snape found Minerva, an hour later. The stained tears on her face told a story she herself would never tell, and the cold Potions Master felt something in his heart melt.
"Minerva?" he asked, softer than ever before, as he squatted beside his colleague and slowly shook her shoulder.
"Minerva?"
Slowly, very slowly, he saw her "wake up" and she shook her head in surprise as she looked straight into Severus's black eyes.
"Severus? Was I…"
The Potions Master sadly smiled as he helped her stand up. He was surprised at the apparent weakness of her legs. She leant on him with all her weight, and he had to really support her- otherwise she'd certainly have fallen down again.
A weak Minerva McGonagall was an unusual- weird thing. Severus had known her for many, many years, but this, he had never witnessed before.
"You were quite "out", I believe, Minerva. No-one… no-one can blame you, of course…"
His voice slightly shook- he would miss the Headmaster, even if he didn't really show it- but he immediately controlled himself again. He had to ask her something. Something rather difficult, in fact.
"Minerva, I came to- is it alright for you if… the funeral is tonight? The Ministry people will then still be here, so they as well will be able to attend…"
To his great irritation, a tear rolled down his cheek. It was not that he was ashamed for his grief- of course he wasn't- but yet, his Slytherin spirit somewhat opposed towards the idea of showing emotions... especially- and perhaps he was old-fashioned- when a woman was present.
But he shouldn't have bothered, because "the woman", apparently suddenly finding back her strength, walked -floated, almost…- away, only turning around one time to answer.
"Good, Severus. And… Severus?"
The man nodded questioningly, trying to keep down his tears.
Minerva smiled an absent, almost ethereal smile.
"Ask Hermione Granger for the job of Transfigurations teacher and Head of Gryffindor."
She left her colleague behind- completely dumbfounded.
========================================
Yet, though with difficulty, Minerva did enter the bathroom and managed to oppress her tears from falling as she saw the cup again. Perhaps it was true- perhaps she had indeed spilt all tears in her body last night. She so hoped it was true.
Because she didn't want to cry. Because she knew Albus wouldn't have wanted her to cry. Because nothing, not even her tears, could ever bring him back to her.
Never.
And that she had to realize, she kept repeating to herself. He was gone and she was still here- she would have to live with it. She felt, with every word, another knife cut straight through the torn-into-two organ that was her heart, but she knew she had to be hard with herself.
She could only hope- and that was, in fact, her only hope- that it was true what her mother had said to her so long ago. That there was a God, there high above. That there was a heaven, far away, where Albus now rested and where she would once rest as well, where she would fling her arms around him once more.
It was little hope, she knew, but it was her only hope.
And Hogwarts needed her now.
As Minerva slowly started to put on a long, black dress –emerald had suddenly lost all of its appeal- she realized at least that one thing.
Hogwarts needed her and she couldn't let the pain get the best of her. She couldn't die of grief, she couldn't "go with him" as she'd always declared she'd do if he died before her. She couldn't and she wouldn't. Her head suddenly snapped up as she proudly straightened her back.
Damn sure she wouldn't.
And with this thought in the back of her mind, Minerva McGonagall left her rooms and decided to do the thing she feared the most the first. Slowly, tremblingly, her hair loosely falling down her back- he had always liked it the most like that…- Minerva headed for the Headmaster's office.
The Headmistress's office.
Albus's office… which now was hers.
Because she, Minerva McGonagall, now was the newly appointed Headmistress of Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
This newly dawned realization quite shocked her, for some reason, though she did not know why. It was twenty-eight years now since she'd accepted the post of Deputy Headmistress- and some part of her must have known through all of those years that that meant she'd become Headmistress once. Yet somehow, it hadn't. She had always been the sidekick, the strong second-in-command, the dependable one whom you could rely on. Whom you did rely on.
Many people had relied on her and trusted her, and she'd had had her say in many things, but this- this new feeling of responsibility, of standing alone- was a new one.
It was true- many times she had supported Albus instead of he her, but in his way, with his chuckled, with the twinkle in his blue eyes which she knew shone for her alone, he had been so much more to her, so much more than even he himself had ever been able to perceive.
Minerva Dumbledore-McGonagall hadn't *loved* her husband. She had adored him. Minerva had been completely, utterly mad about him with every single fiber of her slender yet tough body.
Illogically, abnormally, crazily mad about him.
Perhaps it was because of that- because the Headmaster had been her husband- that she had never seriously thought about the fact of her succeeding him as the Headmistress.
One didn't think about the death of one's beloved.
And after all, who would have expected-
A dry, oppressed sob welled up in Minerva's throat, and not only because of her thoughts. Also- and mostly, somehow, because of the large, stone gargoyle now before her.
"Nothing like the sun" she uttered.
"My mistress's eyes are nothing like the sun"… yes, Albus and his Shakespeare. Sonnet CXXX. Ever his favorite.
Minerva slightly sobbed as she remembered, so long ago, the day he'd given her that particular sonnet as an engagement gift. It had been *their* sonnet, *their* poem, for more than forty years. Even their wedding rings had born- bore- the great Shakespeare's words.
Minerva brought her left hand closer to her eyes as she'd done so many times before and let her mind, again, absorb the text written on it.
"Albus and Minerva 1957"
and then, in miniscule letters carved into the silver
"As long as men can breathe or eyes can see."
But it hadn't endured that long… At least, not in life. But in death they would be together again. That Minerva had to remember. She had to- she had to!
Only with the greatest difficulty, Minerva tore her gaze off the thin wedding ring and entered the now open, ebony wood door of his- her!- office. She had not walked two steps when she froze again. The small, golden sign on the large, mahogany desk confronted her once more with the harsh reality. The thing had been bewitched centuries ago, so that it always showed the name of Hogwarts' present Headmaster. And there, in black, curly letters stood, neatly carven against the gold
"Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry".
Though the most touching, it wasn't the only thing that had changed. The desk had apparently been- programmed?- to clean itself after the death of the Headmaster. All Albus Dumbledore's papers, pictures, books and- of course- his beloved lemon drops now lay neatly piled up in a corner. Ready to remove them.
Minerva knew she'd throw nothing away, though. With something between a smile and a sob, Minerva took up a picture from the floor and carefully placed it back on top of the desk. It was an old picture- a very old picture- but Minerva remembered the day it had been taken as if it was yesterday. The Ball because of the appointment of a new Minister of Magic- Andrenius Theon it had been, in- in 1948.
And so, a young, smiling Minerva McGonagall waved at a much older and much wearier one. The young, auburn-bearded Albus Dumbledore to whose arm she clung smiled and waved as well.
As the older Minerva noticed the sparkle of happiness in the emerald green eyes of the younger one, those very same eyes filled with tears.
"Albus…" Minerva muttered, pressing the picture against her heart with all strength she had left.
~*~
It was like that, sitting on the bare, stone floor with the picture in her hands, slowly rocking back and forth, that Severus Snape found Minerva, an hour later. The stained tears on her face told a story she herself would never tell, and the cold Potions Master felt something in his heart melt.
"Minerva?" he asked, softer than ever before, as he squatted beside his colleague and slowly shook her shoulder.
"Minerva?"
Slowly, very slowly, he saw her "wake up" and she shook her head in surprise as she looked straight into Severus's black eyes.
"Severus? Was I…"
The Potions Master sadly smiled as he helped her stand up. He was surprised at the apparent weakness of her legs. She leant on him with all her weight, and he had to really support her- otherwise she'd certainly have fallen down again.
A weak Minerva McGonagall was an unusual- weird thing. Severus had known her for many, many years, but this, he had never witnessed before.
"You were quite "out", I believe, Minerva. No-one… no-one can blame you, of course…"
His voice slightly shook- he would miss the Headmaster, even if he didn't really show it- but he immediately controlled himself again. He had to ask her something. Something rather difficult, in fact.
"Minerva, I came to- is it alright for you if… the funeral is tonight? The Ministry people will then still be here, so they as well will be able to attend…"
To his great irritation, a tear rolled down his cheek. It was not that he was ashamed for his grief- of course he wasn't- but yet, his Slytherin spirit somewhat opposed towards the idea of showing emotions... especially- and perhaps he was old-fashioned- when a woman was present.
But he shouldn't have bothered, because "the woman", apparently suddenly finding back her strength, walked -floated, almost…- away, only turning around one time to answer.
"Good, Severus. And… Severus?"
The man nodded questioningly, trying to keep down his tears.
Minerva smiled an absent, almost ethereal smile.
"Ask Hermione Granger for the job of Transfigurations teacher and Head of Gryffindor."
She left her colleague behind- completely dumbfounded.