Hey, all of you amazing people out there who are reading this::
I'm so, so, so sorry for taking...a month...(*gulp*)...to update this, but I had an advance illness known as 'Writer's Block'.
I'm not really sure what I think about this. I'm not too much of fan...I was interested in Minerva from the beginning because she is so, amazingly strong, and such a great person, but also so controlled and disciplined, and I came from those ideas when I started writing, but I'm not sure I really managed to come across with what I wanted.
But hey, I want to know what you think, and I AM TAKING REQUESTS for the next three chapters. I mean, I may not do them if I can't connect, but I would love some feedback (mind you, I would *always* appreciate feedback :D) on what ideas you might have, and how you might see the post-war Harry Potter world.
As usual: I am not JKR, nor am I a thief, and therefor I own nothing.
Enjoy! :)
She had never thought that while rebuilding, she would be breaking things down.
Since the war, Minerva McGonagall has been repairing, fixing, healing. Mending hearts and bricks, stepping up to lead a place that was known for its safety after so many died there. But slowly, things have been falling apart; even as she gently picks up the remains of so many people's lives and helps them put it back together.
Minerva has worked for so long to separate all parts of her life, keeping things boxed off in her mind and in her heart. Her work, a love of sorts, occupied one section, and her family, her life outside of Hogwarts, was in another. But somehow, in the aftermath of war, as the dust and ashes settled and where swept aside, it seemed that dust had been brushed off her memories, and the walls she had so carefully built up where falling down.
Minerva had not thought of love for many years now. Almost nineteen years before, the man she thought she would spend forever with was torn away from her by the man known as the one of the darkest wizards ever. It had shattered her heart, but Minerva made herself be strong. She let her sadness, her hate, her pain guide her power, and bring out her strength, but never had she let her self mourn.
Until now.
Somehow, as she attends funerals and memorials, places flowers on graves of children that she has seen grow so much, as she helps families mourn their losses and helped them begin to heal after they were torn apart by loss, she lets her walls come down.
" Another gilly water, Minerva?"
Madame Rosmarta, cheery as ever in her sparkling turquoise heels and cascading blond waves pinned up onto her hair, jerks Minerva out of her thoughts.
"Oh, yes, thanks, Rosmarta," says Minerva distractedly, passing the other women a few coins.
" How are things at Hogwarts?" Rosmarta pushes the sleeves of her purple robes up as she waves her wand, the drink in front of her fizzing and then slowly turning a soft shade of blue.
"They're…they're, coping," Minerva says finally.
" That's all you can ask for, I suppose." Rosmarta's back is to Minerva.
Minerva wants to tell Rosmarta everything, and let it all out finally. After two decades, she is letting her love and sadness into her heart. She is letting her life be free, no longer governed by the strict rules that she has imposed on her self. She takes a deep breath. It is so different than who she was even a year ago, if she said anything. Before, she would not even let herself think of anything that she has just been thinking of. She would not let herself consider them. But now….now everything is different. Wars leave different scars on different people, and for Minerva, the war has picked off the scabs that she has layered over the wounds in her heart, not letting them heal, but not managing to vanquish them completely. So as she sits in the Three Broomsticks months after the war, Minerva feels her raw, tender heart beating in her chest, and for the first time in three quarters of her life, she allows herself to open up.
"Hogwarts is coping, Rosmarta, but let me tell you something about me…."
So, guys, whad'ja think?
I am not quite sure what I think of this myself, so I would lovelovelovelovelovelove to hear what you think. Maybe you think that writing a review doesn't matter, maybe you hate my writing and you think its a waste of time, but just know: Every review makes me happier than you can ever imagine. You are giving me so much just by typing in a scant few words, just telling me what you think. If you have a heart, (Not to guilt trip you or anything...heeeheee...) write a review.
Reviews=Love