Vijf

"I love you, I love you!"

The black-haired witch bitterly cried as the only reply to her desperately yelled words came, though, in the form of an ear-deafening silence echoing and echoing through the cold, dark rooms of her flat.

'I love you! I goddamn love you, Albus! Hear me, then- hear me!"

Her fists dug deep into the soft material of her pillow as her voice grew hoarse with ire and despair, only fading into nothing again to make place for her sobs, too intense to be heard, too passionate to have a sound.

As she curled up into a tight, silent ball of madness, chin resting atop of her knees, eyes closed as if to keep her tears from staining the bedclothes even more, Minerva McGonagall heard her own whisper pierce through the pitch black night.

"I'm in love with a madman."

It was the truth, she knew- the utter and undiluted truth and yet she could repeat it over and over again to herself- it did not change anything. It did not change her feelings, nor their intensity, their truth- it did not change her despair.

It only cut deeper, burnt harder- it only wounded her more.

Sleep did not come easy that night.

And yet at some point it did- for at eight o'clock the next morning, Minerva found herself, sleepy yet at the same time horribly awake, entering that sterile, terribly white room- only to find the man she loved way too much staring at her with eyes so empty it was nearly unbearable.

"Good morning, Albus."

Her soft, alto voice lacked every trace of the forced cheerfulness she refused to use, and yet it was not sad either. It reflected the state of her mind more perfectly than even she herself realized- for there was no sadness anymore. She had cried and cried that night, she had yelled and fought herself.

She had lost in the end- and no sadness, no anger was left- just that deep despair which was hard to explain and which came in the darkness, unexpected- quick to surprise and slow to be surprised.

As she crouched down next to his bed, she allowed one finger to softly trace the lines on the inside of Albus's hand. How she remembered those hands- when they had held her, when they had- when they have loved her.

But that was the past, she had to remember- and with a gentle squeeze, she released his hand again, tenderly laying it down atop of the white, thin sheets.

"Albus, I miss you."

He smiled, and for a moment she had the feeling her heartbeat stopped. A slight fluttering inside of her stomach pierced straight through her heart as his blue eyes- just for a moment- twinkled as they had always done- and yet when he spoke up, it was over.

"Grandmother, I know you didn't want me to leave for Hogwarts, but Aber is still here, isn't he? He'll visit you, often, I promise!"

Minerva very nearly started crying as sincere worry shone from his eyes- sincere worry, though, which she knew was not aimed at her. She knew it was the worry of a young grandson for his aging grandmother- and part of her wanted to yell, to rage- to curse, but at the same time she knew she was not being fair.

"I'm not your grandmother, Albus."

But her whisper was too silent, her words too softly spoken to pierce through the thick fogs now occupying her once lover's mind. The babbling went on and on, and Minerva found herself listening to it, tears in eyes yet knowing that listening was the only thing she could do for him at the moment- and after all, she would still do everything for him.

The soft pressure of her hand on his was the only tenderness she could provide him with now- and even as she said goodbye again, she contented herself with a mere, soft kiss pressed against his cheek.

"I know you don't know me, Albus. I know you perhaps never will- but that doesn't mean that I will not love you anymore."