Chapter Eight: Not Our Farewell
"Professor- Minerva, are you really sure?"
Minerva McGonagall nodded and faintly smiled at her once favourite pupil- now her colleague and her successor. She patted the young woman's shoulder in a supporting gesture.
"I couldn't be more sure, Hermione." She nodded once more and added, as she saw the hesitant look in the new Transfigurations teacher's honest, brown eyes
"You'll make a wonderful Transfigurations teacher and Head of Gryffindor, Professor Granger. I am sure of that. You're the brightest student Hogwarts has known in years. And you were a great Head Girl, Hermione, you…"
Hermione Granger interrupted her former teacher, though… and hesitatingly muttered
"I know, P- Minerva, but I am only nineteen. How do you think I'll manage to teach students who're sometimes but a year my junior?"
Minerva had her answer ready and smiled again.
"The way you taught Mr. Potter and- and Mr. Weasley many things through your seven years at Hogwarts."
The name of Ronald Weasley left her lips with difficulty. She knew how much Molly- always a dear friend of hers- suffered every single day, again and again, from the loss of her sons….
"But M-"
But Minerva silenced her new, young colleague by a soft, motherly hug
"Hermione," she then said simply.
"You're the only one I would entrust my precious little cubs to."
And that, she knew, sufficed.
====================
Yet Minerva had to admit it cut like a knife through her already ripped apart heart as she, slowly but surely, approached the biggest and most richly decorated chair at the centre of the High Table. Well here it is, she practically summarized. The Welcoming Feast- and for the first time in decades and decades and decades; the Headmaster was not present.
Yes. The Headmaster.
Because Minerva could try and try and keep trying, but she could not help it- in her eyes, Hogwarts had only one Headmaster- and that was Albus Dumbledore, her husband.
As the First Years were lead inside, she softly swallowed and squeezed her own hand under the table. For the very first time in years, all eyes were not focused on the poor, nervous, frightened First Years. The eyes were focused on her, she knew, and therefore she couldn't grant herself only the smallest moment of weakness. Even when, for the first time in decades, it was not her who carried the Sorting Hat, it was not her who held the name list. It was Hermione Granger.
But Minerva bit her lips and forced her unwilling lips into a slight smile.
"Let the Welcoming Feast begin!"
====================
Yet as she re-entered her room, that evening she felt like falling apart. She didn't even remove her cloak or undo her hair- she just fell down on the coach and closed her eyes. A sudden feeling of depression covered her heart and she just couldn't help it.
Don't cry.
Don't- don't- don't…
It was only then, as she narrowed her eyes in order to re-gain her self-control, that she noticed something. A strange artefact- probably muggle- was standing on her so-called "vanity table". As she, with a frown, approached it, she saw the piece of parchment next to it, and the well-known, neat handwriting of Hermione Granger.
"Dear Minerva,
This is a CD-player. It's a thing muggles have in order to listen to music. I've put a spell on it- it now does work inside the Castle of Hogwarts. Inside of it is a "CD"- you probably know what it is. Please listen to track three. It's entitled "Our Farewell", by Within Temptation, and it is the most beautiful song that I know.
I noticed your sadness again today, and through this, I hope to comfort you at least a little bit. You have not lost the Headmaster, Minerva- I saw the look in his eyes before he died- and you'll never lose him.
Your,
Hermione Granger."
Minerva swallowed, then slowly inhaled and sat down. But as the first verses of lyrics reached her ears; she knew she could not hold back her tears…
=
In my hands
A legacy of memories
I can hear you say my name
I can almost see your smile
=
And she could.
"Minerva," he whispered in her ear. "Minerva…" like he had spoken her name for the very first time, almost fifty years ago now.
"Minerva, I have fallen in love with you."
A legacy of memories- in her hands. Old memories, newer ones… How he had first kissed her- it had been technically forbidden, back then. That first, soft, hesitant touching of lips- the month of May, before her graduation. The whole, wonderful month of May, of hidden glances and secret, tender smiles. Of light embraces before dinner, of warm kisses before bedtime… Of the wonderful feeling of knowing for a fact that they had decades before them, that they could do as they pleased and that they would once belong to each other, not in secret, but openly.
That, Minerva now recalled, had been a vain dream after all.
Because after Grindelwald, Voldemort had come, and again they, he, she, they had become a secret. But a blissful secret. A blissful secret after all…
And she'd loved him.
=
Feel the warmth of your embrace
But there is nothing but silence now
Around the one I loved
Is this our farewell?
=
Yes, that was her question. Was this their farewell? Had the dynamic duo, the friends forever, the lovers-until-death-do-us-part then finally parted?
That was her question, that was her fear. The one phrase in their wedding vows that had ever frightened her. Till death do us part.
And after? Did he still love her? Was she still his Tabby?
Tabby…
The thought the sweet, lovely nickname made her smile through her tears. Tabby. For everyone, she had been Professor McGonagall- stern, strict, formidable, but at night, as his arms encircled her and she could feel, taste, sense the rhythm of his heart beating only for her, then she knew she was Tabby, his Tabby, his own.
Tabby, Mrs. Dumbledore…
=
Sweet darling you worry too much, my child
See the sadness in your eyes
You are not alone in life
Although you might think that you are
=
Thank you, Hermione.
She had never had children. Two miscarriages in a row, and they had known that she would never give life to a son or daughter… She had been sad, depressed even, and for the first time in her life she had thought about leaving him. He had always wanted, adored, longed for children. And she, she could not give him any…
She had filled her trunk, two days after the last miscarriage. All her clothes, all her books and every single bit left of her were pushed into it. She had written a letter, she had signed it, placed it on his desk, she had headed for the door and…
And he had stepped in.
She had never seen Albus cry before, but then, he did. He had begged her to stay- not asked her, but begged her. He had embraced her, he had comforted her, he had kissed every single tear in her eyes away and he had stayed with her, for three full weeks, until she finally felt better, until she finally was able to let go of Sarah Héloise Dumbledore… her, their, late daughter.
They had talked, for days and days and days and she had finally dared believe that he loved her for what she was, not for what she could not give him.
The children had never come, but they had at least had each other.
And Hermione.
Hermione Sarah Granger- her middle name was a strange coincidence that had never really occurred to her as a coincidence. If Sarah Héloise had lived, Minerva was sure of that, then she would have been like Hermione…
Thank you, Hermione.
=
Never thought
This day would come so soon
We had no time to say goodbye
How can the world just carry on?
=
Yes, how could it? How could it, and how could she live on when her heartbeat had stopped months ago? Her heart had stopped beating with his, yet her life was prolonged and prolonged and…
How could this day have come so soon?
Soon, not literally, perhaps- forty years was quite a long time- but still, it had felt like just one, wonderful moment of blissful madness, like that first kiss had been so many years ago… She had, for some reason, always thought she'd die before him. It was stupid, of course- he had been seventy years her senior- but still. He couldn't die, she had told herself over and over and over again, until she had eventually started to believe it.
How wrong she'd been…
=
I feel so lost when you are not at my side
But there's nothing but silence now
Around the one I loved
Is this our farewell?
=
Is this our farewell, Albus? Is this love I felt and feel for you now something of the past, something ancient, over and dealt with?
No! No, and no and no, she would never give in!
This love I feel for you is my life, Albus.
Without you, I am nothing, Albus.
Empty, Albus.
Dead, Albus.
Wait for me.
=
Sweet darling you worry too much, my child
See the sadness in your eyes
You are not alone in life
Although you might think that you are
=
She was not alone. Not alone, but how could she be not alone without him? How could she, the ever-sidekick, the helper, the advisor, still be alive when there was no-one left to sidekick for? It was impossible, it was unreal- it couldn't be.
But it was.
She had always been the emerald shadow behind the purple majesty, the clever, quick green eyes beside the twinkling, cerulean ones… the long, black braid alongside white magnificence…
They expected her to take his place.
But that she couldn't. She was still practical, witty, intelligent, strong Minerva McGonagall, but what was the point in strength when there was no-one to be brave for?
There was none.
=
So sorry your world is tumbling down
I will watch you through these nights
Rest your head and go to sleep
Because my child, this is not our farewell.
This is not our farewell.
=
This is not our farewell, my love.
Tears dripped on her hands and she sniffed. A ridiculous sound- not like her at all- but as if she cared. Yet she balled her fists as the five words were repeated once more.
"This is not our farewell."
For I love you, Albus.
"Professor- Minerva, are you really sure?"
Minerva McGonagall nodded and faintly smiled at her once favourite pupil- now her colleague and her successor. She patted the young woman's shoulder in a supporting gesture.
"I couldn't be more sure, Hermione." She nodded once more and added, as she saw the hesitant look in the new Transfigurations teacher's honest, brown eyes
"You'll make a wonderful Transfigurations teacher and Head of Gryffindor, Professor Granger. I am sure of that. You're the brightest student Hogwarts has known in years. And you were a great Head Girl, Hermione, you…"
Hermione Granger interrupted her former teacher, though… and hesitatingly muttered
"I know, P- Minerva, but I am only nineteen. How do you think I'll manage to teach students who're sometimes but a year my junior?"
Minerva had her answer ready and smiled again.
"The way you taught Mr. Potter and- and Mr. Weasley many things through your seven years at Hogwarts."
The name of Ronald Weasley left her lips with difficulty. She knew how much Molly- always a dear friend of hers- suffered every single day, again and again, from the loss of her sons….
"But M-"
But Minerva silenced her new, young colleague by a soft, motherly hug
"Hermione," she then said simply.
"You're the only one I would entrust my precious little cubs to."
And that, she knew, sufficed.
====================
Yet Minerva had to admit it cut like a knife through her already ripped apart heart as she, slowly but surely, approached the biggest and most richly decorated chair at the centre of the High Table. Well here it is, she practically summarized. The Welcoming Feast- and for the first time in decades and decades and decades; the Headmaster was not present.
Yes. The Headmaster.
Because Minerva could try and try and keep trying, but she could not help it- in her eyes, Hogwarts had only one Headmaster- and that was Albus Dumbledore, her husband.
As the First Years were lead inside, she softly swallowed and squeezed her own hand under the table. For the very first time in years, all eyes were not focused on the poor, nervous, frightened First Years. The eyes were focused on her, she knew, and therefore she couldn't grant herself only the smallest moment of weakness. Even when, for the first time in decades, it was not her who carried the Sorting Hat, it was not her who held the name list. It was Hermione Granger.
But Minerva bit her lips and forced her unwilling lips into a slight smile.
"Let the Welcoming Feast begin!"
====================
Yet as she re-entered her room, that evening she felt like falling apart. She didn't even remove her cloak or undo her hair- she just fell down on the coach and closed her eyes. A sudden feeling of depression covered her heart and she just couldn't help it.
Don't cry.
Don't- don't- don't…
It was only then, as she narrowed her eyes in order to re-gain her self-control, that she noticed something. A strange artefact- probably muggle- was standing on her so-called "vanity table". As she, with a frown, approached it, she saw the piece of parchment next to it, and the well-known, neat handwriting of Hermione Granger.
"Dear Minerva,
This is a CD-player. It's a thing muggles have in order to listen to music. I've put a spell on it- it now does work inside the Castle of Hogwarts. Inside of it is a "CD"- you probably know what it is. Please listen to track three. It's entitled "Our Farewell", by Within Temptation, and it is the most beautiful song that I know.
I noticed your sadness again today, and through this, I hope to comfort you at least a little bit. You have not lost the Headmaster, Minerva- I saw the look in his eyes before he died- and you'll never lose him.
Your,
Hermione Granger."
Minerva swallowed, then slowly inhaled and sat down. But as the first verses of lyrics reached her ears; she knew she could not hold back her tears…
=
In my hands
A legacy of memories
I can hear you say my name
I can almost see your smile
=
And she could.
"Minerva," he whispered in her ear. "Minerva…" like he had spoken her name for the very first time, almost fifty years ago now.
"Minerva, I have fallen in love with you."
A legacy of memories- in her hands. Old memories, newer ones… How he had first kissed her- it had been technically forbidden, back then. That first, soft, hesitant touching of lips- the month of May, before her graduation. The whole, wonderful month of May, of hidden glances and secret, tender smiles. Of light embraces before dinner, of warm kisses before bedtime… Of the wonderful feeling of knowing for a fact that they had decades before them, that they could do as they pleased and that they would once belong to each other, not in secret, but openly.
That, Minerva now recalled, had been a vain dream after all.
Because after Grindelwald, Voldemort had come, and again they, he, she, they had become a secret. But a blissful secret. A blissful secret after all…
And she'd loved him.
=
Feel the warmth of your embrace
But there is nothing but silence now
Around the one I loved
Is this our farewell?
=
Yes, that was her question. Was this their farewell? Had the dynamic duo, the friends forever, the lovers-until-death-do-us-part then finally parted?
That was her question, that was her fear. The one phrase in their wedding vows that had ever frightened her. Till death do us part.
And after? Did he still love her? Was she still his Tabby?
Tabby…
The thought the sweet, lovely nickname made her smile through her tears. Tabby. For everyone, she had been Professor McGonagall- stern, strict, formidable, but at night, as his arms encircled her and she could feel, taste, sense the rhythm of his heart beating only for her, then she knew she was Tabby, his Tabby, his own.
Tabby, Mrs. Dumbledore…
=
Sweet darling you worry too much, my child
See the sadness in your eyes
You are not alone in life
Although you might think that you are
=
Thank you, Hermione.
She had never had children. Two miscarriages in a row, and they had known that she would never give life to a son or daughter… She had been sad, depressed even, and for the first time in her life she had thought about leaving him. He had always wanted, adored, longed for children. And she, she could not give him any…
She had filled her trunk, two days after the last miscarriage. All her clothes, all her books and every single bit left of her were pushed into it. She had written a letter, she had signed it, placed it on his desk, she had headed for the door and…
And he had stepped in.
She had never seen Albus cry before, but then, he did. He had begged her to stay- not asked her, but begged her. He had embraced her, he had comforted her, he had kissed every single tear in her eyes away and he had stayed with her, for three full weeks, until she finally felt better, until she finally was able to let go of Sarah Héloise Dumbledore… her, their, late daughter.
They had talked, for days and days and days and she had finally dared believe that he loved her for what she was, not for what she could not give him.
The children had never come, but they had at least had each other.
And Hermione.
Hermione Sarah Granger- her middle name was a strange coincidence that had never really occurred to her as a coincidence. If Sarah Héloise had lived, Minerva was sure of that, then she would have been like Hermione…
Thank you, Hermione.
=
Never thought
This day would come so soon
We had no time to say goodbye
How can the world just carry on?
=
Yes, how could it? How could it, and how could she live on when her heartbeat had stopped months ago? Her heart had stopped beating with his, yet her life was prolonged and prolonged and…
How could this day have come so soon?
Soon, not literally, perhaps- forty years was quite a long time- but still, it had felt like just one, wonderful moment of blissful madness, like that first kiss had been so many years ago… She had, for some reason, always thought she'd die before him. It was stupid, of course- he had been seventy years her senior- but still. He couldn't die, she had told herself over and over and over again, until she had eventually started to believe it.
How wrong she'd been…
=
I feel so lost when you are not at my side
But there's nothing but silence now
Around the one I loved
Is this our farewell?
=
Is this our farewell, Albus? Is this love I felt and feel for you now something of the past, something ancient, over and dealt with?
No! No, and no and no, she would never give in!
This love I feel for you is my life, Albus.
Without you, I am nothing, Albus.
Empty, Albus.
Dead, Albus.
Wait for me.
=
Sweet darling you worry too much, my child
See the sadness in your eyes
You are not alone in life
Although you might think that you are
=
She was not alone. Not alone, but how could she be not alone without him? How could she, the ever-sidekick, the helper, the advisor, still be alive when there was no-one left to sidekick for? It was impossible, it was unreal- it couldn't be.
But it was.
She had always been the emerald shadow behind the purple majesty, the clever, quick green eyes beside the twinkling, cerulean ones… the long, black braid alongside white magnificence…
They expected her to take his place.
But that she couldn't. She was still practical, witty, intelligent, strong Minerva McGonagall, but what was the point in strength when there was no-one to be brave for?
There was none.
=
So sorry your world is tumbling down
I will watch you through these nights
Rest your head and go to sleep
Because my child, this is not our farewell.
This is not our farewell.
=
This is not our farewell, my love.
Tears dripped on her hands and she sniffed. A ridiculous sound- not like her at all- but as if she cared. Yet she balled her fists as the five words were repeated once more.
"This is not our farewell."
For I love you, Albus.