(a/n - so, what do you think? I hope that the death scene was okay, I felt I had to mention the whole Albus being gay thing, and clear up the fact that he wasn't. In my world, anyway. However, I have a story to continue. For now, my friends.)
Lay Down Your Goddamn Arms...
Minerva gasped as she saw the dark wizard named Grindelwald fall to the floor. She would never have to face his seductive threats ever again. Her mind was preoccupied, though. Before the auburn haired man had killed Grindelwald, they had had a small, whispered conversation, and Minerva, though she couldn't hear it, had felt a warm tingle run through her body as the auburn haired hero had opened his mouth. She didn't know why, or how, that had happened. She only knew one thing. She owed her life to the auburn haired hero.
Albus picked the elder wand from Grindelwald, smiling. Oh, how long he had wanted that wand! And now it was his! As soon as his hand curled around it, sparks shot up and the whole room turned towards him, silent, enraptured.
"lay down your goddamn arms!" he said with a power and authority the minister of magic himself would be jealous of. "Gellert Grindelwald is dead. You have no master. You are all being arrested for following his lead, and taking practice in dark magic. The rest of those who have fallen in battle will be separated. The good who died trying to protect their friends and families, from the bad who died trying to gain power for a greedy and evil wizard. Then, the world shall be at peace. Once more, wizards and witches. Lay down your goddamn arms!"
Albus then turned to face Alastor, who was being fussed over by Poppy. Alastor had had several wounds, probably from trying to protect Poppy from harm. He would pull through though. Moody was as tough as devil's snare, and poppy was one of the best mediwitches Albus had ever seen. He smiled at them, in their own little world. How he longed to have a life like that with Minerva.
Minerva gasped at the man's speech. His voice was beautifully masculine, and his body shape was wonderful, aswell. If he was the Frenchman, she knew that underneath those robes, there was a perfectly fine body, in her eyes. Her head felt light, however. She had been injured, and fatigue was pulling at her, threatening to drown her into a dark abyss of nightmares and darkness. She tried to fight it, she tried to stop it from capturing her, but she was just too weak. Minerva mcgonagall closed her eyes.