And She Will Be Loved

"Beauty queen of only eighteen
She had some trouble with herself
He was always there to help her
She always belonged to someone else"

One more day. One more day she had left at Hogwarts, the girl with her radiant, green eyes realized, as she wandered through the corridors of her home since seven years. One more day to decide about what probably was the probably most important choice of her life. One more day.

And she was sick of it, of running over the stone floor bare-footed, her emerald cloak tightly clenched around her shoulders, tears glimmering behind her square glasses. She was tired of it, of fighting, but not fighting him, as he put it, fighting his Destiny. With a capital letter, thank you very much. And she, secret girlfriend, bride to be and, "naturally", future queen of his so-called Dark Realm as well. It was just too much. Even for her, Minerva Jean McGonagall, top student of every class she took and wise far beyond her age. It was too much- she was too much. The whole picture of top student, Head Girl, mature one and at the same time to-be-empress of the dark dream land of her boyfriend didn't fit. Or yes, it did. Only one part of the jigsaw did not fit.

It was him.

As she balled her fist and knocked, softly at first, then a little bit harder, on the solid, ebony wood of the door to her Transfiguration teacher and friend's office, she felt weak. Utterly, pathetically, ridiculously weak. Here she was again, begging for comfort, begging for solace.

But she knew it was so much more.

"I walked for miles and miles
And wound up at your door
I've had you so many times but somehow
I want more"

As Albus opened the door and looked into the big, green eyes of the student who probably was his best friend at Hogwarts, he almost smiled. The redness of her eyes, though, told a whole other story than her semi-brave smile, and hastily, he guided her in.

She was the prettiest girl of her year, that was for sure. He had never had doubts about that. Not that it really mattered, though. He admired her wisdom more than her beautiful face- he always had. Her intellect- her enormous talent for Transfigurations, for example- her Animagus transformation of the previous year! Or no, that was not true either. What he loved the most about her, was her spirit. Her faint smiles, her sometimes sarcastic remarks, her strength. And there he'd used the l-word again.

Love. He loved her. He didn't know when or how, or since when, or even why. It was just something that was- not a choice he had made. It was as much a part of himself as his sky blue eyes were, or his, already slightly wrinkled, face. He could not help loving her, this young, brave Gryffindor with her quick brains and her stubborn courage, with her somewhat sad smile and her unfortunate choice of a boyfriend.

"It's Tom, Albus... he... he... I can't understand him, sometimes. I cannot follow his trail of thoughts- he's just mad at times..."

Tom Riddle was no good for her, Albus knew as he, slowly, enveloped the slim girl with his eager arms. He wasn't, she deserved better. But would he, aged as he was, ever be seen as "better" by her? He was years and years and years her senior- it couldn't be, it could not.

But as long as he could comfort her, as long as he could hold her, he was happy.

"I don't mind spending everyday
Out on your corner in the pouring rain
Look for the girl with the broken smile
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile
And she will be loved
And she will be loved"

A year had passed. Minerva had left Hogwarts, and Albus had bravely smiled and wished her all the best when she had, for the last time, turned around and smiled. He had, for one, single moment, thought she'd stay with him, as her dark green eyes filled with tears when she raised her pale, slender hand to wave for a last time. But the boy, young man, next to her, fingers locked closely around her other hand, had kept her from it, he knew, and he would do so forever. Tom Riddle had been was a handsome figure as he stood there, black, thick hair falling around his head, just reaching his ears, his dark brown, impenetrable eyes staring at- yes, at what? Tom Riddle was a mystery in many ways, he knew, and he had felt a cut through his heart as Minerva's worried eyes had rested, for a short moment, on the pale face of the boy beside her. And yet she'd followed. Followed like only she, rightful, fair Gryffindor she was, could do.

But he had sent her letters, and so had she. He wanted to at least know for sure she was safe, and happy, but every letter worried him more than the previous one had done. Tom Riddle was going down, more and more, and he was dragging his girlfriend, who shared his house in London now, with him... Albus couldn't know for sure, but he could read between the lines, and what he read upset him.

He could not count the times he had walked the street she lived in, every time a particular line made him shiver. In rain and in sunshine, he stood there, and waited. She would see him, sitting before the window on the first floor, and she would smile.

She could not reach him, though, not until her Lord, as he now called himself, had left the house. Then, she'd take her long, grey cloak, put on her hat and join him, a sincere smile on her face.

"Oh Albus, I'm so glad you came!"

Yes, Minerva, but why did you think I came?

For she still did not know he loved her.

"Tap on my window, knock on my door
I want to make you feel beautiful
I know I tend to get so insecure
It doesn't matter anymore

It's not always rainbows and butterflies
It's compromise that moves us along
My heart is full and my door's always open
You can come anytime you want."

"Minerva, if you ever... want to leave, I can help you..."

But she just shook her head, the loose, black strands dancing around her softly flustered cheeks. She smiled her now always sad, faint smile, as she gave her muttered reply.

"It is okay, Albus. I am okay. Really."

The tears in her eyes at his offer contradicted her cheerful words immediately.

"Can't you come with me?" he muttered, staring at his feet, not even sure of himself.

But she slowly shook her head.

"I love you, you know that? Minerva..."

A faint, genuine smile graced her lips as she lifted her head and locked eyes with him.

"Yes. Yes, I know that."

But she left again, after a short hesitation. She could not leave him behind, she said. She could not, not possibly, not when there was still hope she could help him. Help him, those exactly were her words. She knew, she realized he was not normal anymore, with his meetings, his new name, his dreams, but she accepted it and, Albus thought bitterly, in all her bravery, her idealism, Minerva thought she could fight it. But she could not, she never would.

And in the meantime, she loved him as well. He was sure of that, now, he did not know who he loved more, him or her so-called Lord, but she did love him. Not a sugary sweet kind of love, no romance of smiles and happiness, but a real-life love, a bitter, true love, one that was genuine and one for which he was prepared to fight, whenever the time came she would have to choose.

"I don't mind spending everyday
Out on your corner in the pouring rain
Look for the girl with the broken smile
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile
And she will be loved
And she will be loved
And she will be loved
And she will be loved..."

He still walked there, every time a letter of her arrived, a secret letter, sent in the middle of the night. She couldn't even leave the house anymore, but she sat there, before that window, while "he" was in meeting with the scum of the wizarding world, her dark hair flowing down beside her pale, stained cheeks. He could see the unfallen tears through the green blur of her eyes, despite the brave smile of "leave-me-I-am-happy" fixed on her face. Every time he came, she would send him that same, begging look. Forget about me, she said. I am lost, Albus, she said. Without words, and yet he heard her soft whispers inside his head. I am lost, I am lost for everyone, except for him. I am his, Albus.

I don't want to, but I am.

And he'd look up, every single time, and lock his blue eyes with her green ones.

And she'd know he'd never give her up.

Even though she'd given herself up months before.

"I know where you hide
Alone in that car.
Know all of the things that make you who you are
I know that goodbye means nothing at all
Comes back and begs me to catch her every time she falls"

Every night, he sat there- at his desk. Grading essays, eating sweets, staring through the window and wondering why he could not give her up. Why couldn't he, after all? Why couldn't he? She said it herself- she was lost, so why could he not accept that. He'd always shake his head, then, and remind himself that he loved her. Not that he needed to be reminded anyway. He just did.

And then her letter arrived.

It was not one of her usual ones- neatly written, nicely folded, filled with false expressions happiness and a normal life- a life which they both knew she hadn't. This was a real letter... a piece of parchment, stained with tears, scribbled on with emerald green ink, quickly, secretly written. The last letter of one who despaired.

Her last line was the one to bring tears to his eyes, though. It was so typical, so contradictory, and yet so undoubtedly Minerva.

"Hogsmeade Station, tonight, Albus.
I won't be there.

Minerva"

It was a natural effect of her Scottish stubbornness... this hesitating, this giving up and yet wanting to fight on. It was such a truth, such a truth of hers, so sincerely written and yet so absolutely false.

Because as the train arrived, he stood there, and only one single passenger left the last carriage.

She stared at her feet, her small, leather, muggle purse clenched between her slender fingers- her radiant eyes hidden under the shadow of a hat. She was cold- wearing muggle clothes and not even warmed by a cloak, and yet she turned away as he approached her and spoke her name.

"Minerva."

"I don't mind spending every day
Out on your corner in the pouring rain, oh
Look for the girl with the broken smile
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile
And she will be loved
And she will be loved
And she will be loved
And she will be loved."

"I did it, Albus." she muttered, not looking him in the eye.

"I left him."

Impulsively, he stretched out his arms towards her, and to his great surprise, she accepted his embrace and leant her wet face against his chest. Holding her felt so good... so incredibly natural, and yet he couldn't restrain himself from asking the question that bothered him ever since he'd received her letter.

"Minerva... why now? Why not earlier? What has happened?"

All she did was, with one, brusque gesture taking off her hat, thus removing its shadow off her face and showing him, as clear as daylight, the reason he had asked for. A black eye stained her perfect, pale skin, and the tears that sprung from it could not tell a clearer story.

"He... he beat you?"

She nodded, eagerly, desperately.

"Why?"

"Because he knew there was one person in the world I loved more than I loved him."

She leant her cheek against his chest in an attempt to prolong the moment.

"And that is?"

"You."

"Me?"

"You."

He did the only, possible thing he could do. He kissed her, there, with the light of the setting sun above them, finally holding her to never let go, her suitcase lonely and forgotten, left behind like the last year of her life. He kissed Minerva McGonagall, and her small hands on his cheeks were all rewards he'd ever wanted to get.

When their faces parted again, though, she was crying hot, bitter tears as she shook her head.

"I cannot stay, though. I've come to say goodbye. I'm... I'm lost, I've been lost for months and I don't think I'll ever be able to return to you as... as the woman you deserve."

Her last words had come out as a sheer whisper, as a faint, disbelieving light appeared in her all of a sudden hopeful again eyes. He smiled as he slowly, slowly, brought his face towards hers again, in what was to be the second of many kisses.

"Please don't try so hard to say goodbye"

Minerva never tried to anymore.