Disclaimer: No, I really don't own Harry Potter things, characters, ideas, etc. J.K. Rowling does, and I'm not J.K. Rowling.

Fallen Lioness

Chapter 2: Collision

Surprisingly, Minerva slept unusually well. Her night was actually quite peaceful, maybe even more so than most recent ones. Her slumber was not interrupted by sporadic awakenings at ungodly hours, such as quarter of four or half past one. Waking rather well-rested, Minerva almost wondered why she had trouble getting to sleep.

Almost.

The memory raced back to her instantly. The energy she should have had drained completely out of her. She suddenly wasn't looking forward to breakfast. Albus would be there, seated in the headmaster's chair, which of course was next to hers. She wasn't sure how she would react upon seeing Albus. Certainly it would be awkward, which was not exactly how she preferred to start the day.

Looking at the clock, she saw that it was 6:37. Breakfast officially began at 6 o' clock, actually, but it was a rare day when anybody arrived for it before 7. Even Minerva, an early riser, waited to head down to the Great Hall for breakfast. She generally enjoyed the company of her colleagues, and the morning chatter of the students had a comforting affect on her. Without a doubt, she favored their breakfast talk in comparison to that from lunch or dinner; the majority of them were much calmer in the morning. Perhaps it was because teenagers did not fully "wake up" until the afternoon. No matter the reason, dinners and lunches in the Great Hall were always significantly louder than breakfasts, and Minerva definitely preferred the latter. Today was no different.

I need this. If anything will help me feel normal, it would be a typical day at Hogwarts, she reasoned. Consistency was a good thing. One major blow to her emotional mindset should not cause her life to rearrange. He even told me to pretend nothing happened, and so, I will. Things may change, but that should not faze me. She figured a bit of optimistic thinking would be beneficial to her.

Then he was there. The moment she arrived in the Great Hall, she saw him, sitting in his prominent chair at the staff table. She didn't expect him not to be, as it was his habit to be one the first there. On the other hand, she couldn't expect that, upon laying eyes upon him, the pang her heart felt would stop her dead at the door. He was chatting merrily and eating heartily, and, even with the distance, she could see his eyes twinkle. After just breaking her heart, they could still twinkle. Like it never happened...

Quickly, Minerva regained her composure. Returned was the customary thin-lipped expression, to top off the rest of her trademark appearance: heavy emerald-green robes, practical black leather low-heeled boots, and raven hair pulled back into a tight, severe bun. A speedy glance around the room told her that nobody had noticed her momentarily hurt expression. Without a sound, she strode up to the table and took her seat. She spoke to no one and began to eat in silence, as she didn't exactly want to attract Albus's attention. It was unclear what her response to him would be, and so she tried to avoid the risk of saying something stupid or private in front of him and the rest of the staff. Initiating a conversation with Albus might make her appear desperate, which she assured herself she was not.

Of course she couldn't go through an entire meal without somebody speaking to her. She wasn't reclusive like Professor Trelawney, who usually didn't come out of the North Tower anyway, or aloof, as Professor Snape was sometimes seen. Her colleagues enjoyed speaking to her, for she was witty both knowledgably and humorously. While gingerly spreading butter onto a slice of toast, Albus Dumbledoreturned toward her.

"Good morning," he said gently.

"Hello," Minerva said tersely, refusing to look at him. She wasn't sure she could handle to see his eyes, twinkling or not. They hurt her either way.

"I didn't see you come in," he continued the in the same tone.

"I didn't see you come in either," she briskly replied, being much too stubborn to allow him to melt her.

Albus chuckled half-heartedly at her clever remark, but ceased quickly. Obviously Minerva was in no mood for laughter, as she was fiercely buttering the same piece of toast. He gave up. Perhaps he realized that Minerva was not in a mood for chit-chat, or maybe she simply didn't want to speak to him. He was smart enough not to irritate her when she was in poor humor. Minerva could see him with the corner of her eye as he turned back to his remaining scrambled eggs.

She sighed inwardly. Her intention wasn't to be rude to Albus, but her severe exterior was the only shield she knew. She didn't want him to so easily get through to her. Did he know that his slender fingers still tugged at her heartstrings with every word he spoke? He probably didn't, and for now, that's how she wished it to remain.

After consuming her butter-saturated toast along with the rest of her breakfast, Minerva took a swig of orange juice. Without a word to anybody else, she made a swift and silent exit. She headed straight for her office, where she knew she could be alone until her first class. She encountered no one along the way, and quickly shut the office door behind her upon entering. She clutched her hand to her chest. Her heart felt awfully compressed, as if it were being squeezed.

Albus, she thought and shook her head quickly. She wanted to tell herself he wasn't getting to her, but that would be a downright lie. Damn emotions! They're too irrational, and I can't even control them. She swept behind her desk and took the chair, determined to move her mind to something more logical. A stack of parchment rested on the corner of her desk. Grading was on the agenda.

"'Switching Spells, by Laura O'Brien,'" she read aloud. At least some things remain constantly comforting, she thought, dipping her quill in red ink, ready to begin.

Half an hour later and half a pile marked, Minerva rose. Snatching a few items from her desk, she journeyed toward the Transfiguration classroom, trying to busy her mind with anything but Albus. Turning a corner along the way, she collided with Professor Sprout, who was carrying a potted plant with enormous leaves. Fortunately, nothing crashed to the floor.

"Do try to be more careful, Pomona!" Minerva said, more brusquely than intended, brushing some dirt off her sleeve. A bit of soil had popped out upon the impact.

"Oh – sorry, Minerva," Professor Sprout apologized, poking her head around the numerous leaves. "I didn't see you."

"I thought as much."

Professor Sprout nodded. Then she suddenly scrunched her face in thought.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"Of course I am," Minerva said, the sharp edge on her voice fading. "I only walked into you."

Professor Sprout paused a moment before responding.

"That's not what I meant," she said, placing the plant on the floor. She straightened up and continued,"You're rather distant today and – shall I say? – a bit cold. I know it is still morning, but even with Dumbledore… Minerva, I overheard you talking to him, and I don't think you've ever been like that with him. Has something happened between you two?"

Minerva stared.

"I'm asking as your friend, Minerva. There are ten minutes before any classes start. I understand if you don't want to talk about it… but I advise that you do," Professor Sprout said earnestly.

Minerva's expression softened ever so slightly. She debated whether she should talk about it with someone. It had been less than a day, so what was the rush? Albus was constantly on her mind, but she couldn't expect him not to be.

"…Not now," she responded vaguely, shaking her head slowly.

I felt so much for him, and he turned me down. Of course I should hurt, but I can't let him know that, she thought. But what about Pomona? She's one of my closest friends; I suppose she deserves to know. But no, I definitely can't tell her right now.

She couldn't explain everything right before her first lesson. What if she lost control and broke down? The students would be filing out of their common rooms into the corridors any minute now. This was neither the time nor the place.

"Is that a promise for later?"

"Perhaps," she said, using her preferred neutral response. Minerva scarcely had her own time to think about it, and Pomona expected her to share what had happened. Part of her wanted to confide in someone, but the other, much larger, part told her to keep to herself. That side of her strongly urged her to stay quiet, reminding her of what happened the night before, the last time she shared her innermost feelings. Yet, still, Pomona was her best friend.

"How about this weekend, Min?" Pomona suggested, sensing that Minerva wasn't sure right now.

"Fine," Minerva accepted resignedly.

"Good, then, this weekend it is. Saturday?"

"All right," she answered indifferently, slightly shrugging her shoulders. "Look, I'll see you at lunch. I've got to get to my classroom."

Professor Sprout nodded and said, "Until then." She walked around Minerva, carrying her plant, and the two went their separate directions.

A/N: Yeah, so… I hope that this is all right so far. Sorry there's not much action or suspense even… Trying out a different genre is a challenge! Anyway, I hope to get this updated this coming weekend. Hopefully inspiration will come to me and I won't bore you to tears!
- Erin