Chapter 8
It was with an unsteady hand that fumbled with the silver Celtic broach as the tired woman tried again to clasp it upon her robes.
"One more day." She murmured into the breaking dawn, the first vestiges of light streaming into her room. "Just…one…more." She whispered to herself again, turning the whole of her focus upon her broach alone. And still normally nimble fingers faltered, the silver broach clattering to the floor as the tall, proud woman's jaw flickered. The emotion, so close to the surface, bubbling up; wanting to overflow but she couldn't let it.
Not yet.
Not until after today.
Not until after four more funerals.
Four more good-byes.
Not until she had buried four more students.
Tears threatened to swallow her eyes, already blurring her vision; and gently she closed her eyes to quell the feeling. A feeling, she couldn't afford to have; until after the funerals.
Unsteadily, a hand reached out, wandlessly summoning the fallen object; and it responded instantly as the cool metal suddenly brushed her fingertips. But upon wrapping her fingers around the broach, she merely remained standing; unmoving and taking deep, normally calming breaths.
However, today they did not assuage her feelings nor calm her thoughts.
Because she still had to face the families from four more of her previous students. Had to face the reality that she had survived, again. And they had not. That they would never be able to contribute to their world and leave their mark. But; she had. Not once or even twice, but a third time. A third war.
And given a third life to live and rebuild. And they hadn't even been given the chance at one.
She could feel her emotions pull the fabric of her soul as they twisted in her guts and stomach. But her iron will remained and despite the mist again collecting along the sides of her eyes; she would not give in.
Not yet.
She needed to remain strong.
For just one more day.
And with eyes closed, she tried fastening her broach again. And as the familiar sound clattered against the floor; she opened her eyes to see it staring back her, mockingly. It, like everything else in her life, refused to return to a semblance of normality.
With a heavy sigh, trembling fingers wrapped around the worn ebony wood and she proceeded to move it in a series of half-hearted flicks before she placed her wand back into the folds of her robes. Its job done for now, as a silver broach glinted in the light.
She stepped forward, ignoring her real broach as it lay motionless on the floor. Waiting for her to try again.
But, she couldn't.
She didn't have the energy to try nor the stamina to withstand another failure. She had already failed so many…and she would see the remaining relatives of another four she had failed who sought understanding and meaning in how their loved ones died.
Because they hadn't lived long enough to celebrate how they lived. And she felt her jaw ripple…as her body wanted to give in to the overbearing amount of pent up emotion.
But much like the broach, it sat; waiting.
And she swept from the room, appearing as she needed – the morning twilight spilling across the cut of her jaw and the glint of hard emerald eyes as her distinct gait echoed off the walls; the Headmistress of Hogwarts; one of the remaining iconic pillars for which to help stabilize the wizarding community.
Now, if only that was how she felt.
She rounded the corner, robes billowing around her; mind shoving the last self-pitying thought aside.
She'd have time for those later. They were there, waiting for her…
After today.
xoxo
A/N: Hope you enjoyed!