Disclaimer: Seriously, all Harry Potter ideas and things belong to J.K. Rowling, not me.

A/N: I would like to thank all of my reviewers. Sorry if I didn't respond… I couldn't think of what to say! I was surprised (in a good way) and flattered by your reviews, and I really must thank you. Anyway, here is the fifth installment of Fallen Lioness.

Fallen Lioness

Chapter 5: Days and Time

Minerva scratched away feverishly at foot after foot of parchment. She was so far behind! Too many things had to be read, marked, written; there were simply too many things to do. This wouldn't have been a problem if she hadn't slept late, though. She was angry at herself for allowing such a thing to happen. Now she had to work more than twice as quickly as she normally did in order to keep up with her grading schedule. There was absolutely no time to waste, not a second to spare.

If I work through dinner, I can get this done, Minerva thought. Then I may even have time for the nightly chess match.

Minerva's judgment made no sense at all. She would skip the only meal of the day she could attend in order to finish work, when she could miss a game of chess to complete the work instead. In her mad rush to get through this stack of essays, she was utterly negligent of her health. Surprisingly, though, she wasn't very hungry at the moment, even though it had been nearly twenty-four hours since she last ate. Her lack of an appetite explained this way of thinking.

However, dinner came and went, and her work remained unfinished. It was nearing seven o' clock, the usual time she met Albus for chess. Her heart longed for her to get up from her chair and see him, but her head strictly kept her in place. Then she thought of something, something that would, at least for a moment, satisfy her dear little heart: She had to inform Albus that she would not be coming to his office. However, heading up to the Owlery would take much too long. Fire-calling would be the best option. She stood up and swept into her sitting room.

"Incendio," she murmured, pointing her wand into the fireplace. She grabbed a handful of Floo powder, tossed it into the roaring flame, and called, "Albus Dumbledore! May I speak to you for a minute?"

Within a few seconds, Albus's head appeared in the fire.

"Minerva! Good evening, it is nice to finally see you today," he said after carefully stepping out of the fireplace. "You wanted to speak to me?"

"Yes, that's right. I wanted to tell you that I won't be able to play chess with you tonight."

Only because I slept late, she thought, unhappy with herself.

"I haven't seen you all day. Is everything all right?" he asked with a hint of disappointment and concern in his eyes, which were quickly scanning her up and down. He probably was taking in her still unkempt appearance. "Are you ill?"

"Oh no, I'm fine, Albus. I just have a lot of work to do," she explained.

"Truthfully, Minerva? You haven't been to any meals today," he persisted. Minerva frowned fleetingly and thought quickly on her feet.

"Er, I had a house-elf bring up some things for me today," she lied. Honestly, she hadn't eaten a thing all day, but she didn't want to worry Albus. It wasn't that big a deal anyway. In previous times when she was exceptionally busy, she had found herself a bit deprived of food. She always managed. Working through one day – or half a day, rather – on an empty stomach was not a major issue.

"Oh. Well, all right, then." He paused for a moment. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to take a break?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I really have to get this work done," she said firmly, brushing off all thoughts that tempted her to procrastinate.

"If you're sure, Minerva," he said. "Good night."

"Good night, Albus."

He turned toward the fire and disappeared in the flames. The instant he was gone, Minerva's stomach grumbled, pleading for food. Although relieved that it held out until Albus left, she ignored it and returned to her desk. There was no time to stop and get a meal. Work was more important at the moment. Perhaps she could have eaten properly if she had not overslept, but she had, so now she needed to make up for that.

She returned to her desk and immediately resumed what she was doing. If she didn't return these tests to the seventh year N.E.W.T. students soon, they might mentally go insane. She knew what it was like to take a major test and have to wait even one extra day to receive the score – it was practically torture. These were highly motivated students who were itching to know how they did, praying to a higher being that they did well. She had promised them that she would give them back on Monday, and she had promised herself that she'd finish marking them on Saturday. Now Saturday was winding to its end. She quickened her pace but was still quite meticulous with the grading.

The moon had long been resting in the velvet sky, its light shining through the cold February air and through Minerva's window in Gryffindor Tower to softly illuminate the room. With that and the few iridescent flames of candles, all was quiet and peaceful, save the frazzled woman. Minerva would have loved to enjoy the sheer serenity of her room at the moment, if only she could stop working. Alas, no matter how much she would rather be reading a good novel and munching on ginger newts, she had to finish her work instead. Sleeping late was such a villain to her today.

Finally, she completed the pile of seventh year papers, but there was still a substantial amount of work left. This time she chose to mark some first year homework. First year homework was often a challenge because the eleven- and twelve-year-olds could never seem to spell Transfiguration terms properly. After all of her years of teaching, she was still baffled as to why this was a problem. She was positive that they used their textbooks to help them write their essays, so shouldn't they have the correct spelling? She frowned as she came across the misspelling "incantation". This particular student was lucky that scoring was based on content, not spelling.

The hours slipped away while Minerva strived resolutely to complete the day's worth of grading. Desperately she fought her drooping eyelids and stifled yawn after yawn. There was only one short stack of fourth year assignments to mark. She had to finish this.

Only twenty more…Minerva thought, struggling not to doze off. She wondered why she was already so tired, considering she had slept an extra five or six hours. Perhaps working nonstop for eleven hours and without eating a thing for over a day had something to do with it. Just one more class's worth…

Inevitably, her willpower lost to her drained body, and she fell asleep at her desk, quill still in hand.

After much elapsed time, Minerva McGonagall cracked open her eyes. She was slumped in her chair with her head bowed, and her arms had dropped to her sides. She rubbed her aching neck as she tried to recall what she was doing. The glimmer of the candlelight scattered over her desk, and Minerva's eyes fell onto the sheet of parchment in the center.

Abigail Rose…? she read at the top of the page. She is a fourth year Gryffindor. This is… It had dawned on her – her grading was not done! She fumbled around her desk for her quill before realizing that it had floated down to the floor. Quickly she snatched it and made haste to complete the task.

The clock on the wall meowed once, indicating that it was one o' clock. She had not slept long in the straight-backed chair, but she ached from being in such an uncomfortable position for an extended period of time. Though determined to finally bring Saturday's grading to an end, she actually wished to curl up in her bed under the cozy covers and sleep, guilt-free.

At last, the unmarked piles from Saturday were transferred to the graded stacks. Feeling both relieved that she could go to bed and annoyed that it had taken her part of Sunday to finish, Minerva rose to change her clothing. To her, it felt so wonderful to get out of the bulky green work robe that she had practically been wearing nonstop ever since Friday morning. She slipped into her nightgown and approached her bed, fully prepared to slide under its inviting sheets and drift into a peaceful slumber. After removing her square spectacles, she climbed into her welcoming bed and surrounded herself with warm blankets.

Six hours until I have to get up again. She snuggled her head into the pillow and mulled over the past day. Most of it was spent sleeping or working, but the remaining gap was spent talking to Professor Sprout and Madam Hooch. That was a bit of a nightmare. Pomona had brought with her an unpleasant surprise, namely, an insufferable Rolanda Hooch.

'You weren't expecting much, right?' Her words echoed throughout Minerva's skull. Of all the other things that Rolanda had said, that had to be the worst. Was she always that ignorant of others' feelings?

How could I not have expected anything? I would not have gambled my friendship with Albus if I did not think that the reward was greater than the risk. Minerva scowled bitterly. She probably just doesn't believe in love.

"Yes, I do love the man!" Minerva screamed to no one, the loudness muffled by her pillow. She rolled quickly onto her back and breathed heavily, staring through the darkness at the ceiling above her. That felt good; oddly, that felt good.

"I love him," she continued in a whisper. "I love him… and I don't care if anyone thinks otherwise. I love him… when I should not." She let a single tear glide down her cheek.

I felt so happy, thinking there was a possibility of love between us, she thought reflectively. I want to hold on to these feelings, but I probably should not. Merlin, it is not easy to let go of something if it makes you happy! It is difficult to let go of it if it gave you hope. I felt like… like my life was finally beginning to have an actual meaning… I looked for love for so long, and I thought it was right there in front of me. Evidently it was not. I should move on, but, Merlin, I feel like I am setting my purpose free.

A/N: Okay, I hope you liked that. Thanks for reading. I hope to get the next chapter up in the next one to two weeks.
- Erin