Immortal Memories

Minerva McGonagall laid her head upon her paper-strewn desktop engulfed in tears. Her silky black tresses had fallen loose from the clutches of the usual lot of pins and clips to lie carelessly upon her shoulders. Countless ragged gashes of battle were positioned sporadically around her once magnificent emerald green robes. She sensed her crimson blood oozing out of numerous cuts down her arms and legs like molasses.

Outside, one could witness the unearthly bewitching song of Albus Dumbledore's extraordinary phoenix, Fawkes. The sound was both eerie and sinister. It was the voice of mourning and was enough to make any individual feel as if they were to be swamped in the endless lacuna due to the demise of a loved one.

Minerva McGonagall hardly noticed the depressing tones as she too was expressing her sadness, though in a much more private, hushed manner. It was impossible for one to apprehend the salty tears pouring down her sodden facial features as they were as silent as the grave. Minerva did not wish to share her mournful feelings with the rest of Hogwarts', both staff and students, as very few knew of her passionate feelings for Albus Dumbledore.

Minerva attempted to lie to herself; she wanted to believe that it was only an appalling nightmare of a reverie. Minerva could not bring herself to imagine a life without Albus Dumbledore. But the tragedy had already befallen; there was nothing she could do to change the past. She was not thick enough to acquire one of the ministry's time turners to mess with it. She knew that it would merely make things worse; she'd probably wind up killing off half the school.

Minerva was now forced to take up the burden of being headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry now that her beloved had met his terrible demise. She would have to pacify the excessively shaken school while Minerva herself was in a grieved state. There was no doubt about it; Hogwarts would go down without its rightful headmaster and Minerva would sink below with it.

Minerva perceived that she would never love another as she did Albus Dumbledore. The two sorcerers acquired a bond that no normal human could ever bear. It was one of the strongest, enchanted connections ever formed in the magical world, let alone that of the muggles. There was quite a colossal age difference between the two lovers, but as Albus would always say, "Age is merely a number."

The wise, old face of Albus now swam before Minerva's sealed optics; his penetrating gaze showcasing his gorgeous, electric blue eyes. Minerva felt her consciousness fading away as she slipped elsewhere into a nostalgic reverie.

Minerva sauntered through the void corridors as she was heading for the headmaster's office. When she was in the general vicinity of the headquarters, she scanned the hallway to check for students and other staff members before traipsing towards the stone gargoyle.

"Pumpkin Pasty," she declared to the gargoyle as it sprang to life revealing a handsome set of spiraling steps moving steadily upward like that of a muggle escalator. Minerva stepped upon them as they slowly began to ascend towards Albus Dumbledore's office. At the top of the staircase, she found herself standing in front of a golden oak door. She knocked quietly and waited patiently. After a few seconds, her calling had been answered.

"Come in," answered a welcoming voice from the chambers within.

Minerva stepped nervously into the apartment and closed the heavy door behind her.

"Ah, Minerva! How nice it is to see you!" said a kindly voice on the right-hand side. She looked around to come face to face with none other than her beloved Albus Dumbledore

"Albus," she uttered nervously, "Albus, I must speak seriously with you... I..." her voice began to trail away and she fell into a premature silence.

"Ah but Minerva, is it true that you do not find me as one to speak soberly with?" he added cheerfully. Minerva looked at him reproachfully as her mouth contracted into the infamous thin line.

"Albus," she mouthed with an exasperated air.

"I am listening, my friend."

Minerva was almost lost for words. 'My friend?' Was that all she was to him?

"Well, it's been years since we've first been acquainted."

"Something that I am very much aware of," he added smiling. "It has been rather lengthy."

"Well, you see, I, well, we have been the best of friends over the years and well I just wanted to say that... well."

Albus beamed at her in an amiable manner; his boundless sea of sapphire-blue optics twinkling in the flickering candlelight. He reached forward to pat Minerva's arm as she blushed furiously. How could she have forgotten about his ability to apply the art of legimency!

"Sit down Minerva."

He led her towards an armchair with shining red and gold fabric. Minerva collapsed onto it and the gazed determinedly at his glorious eyes.

"I know very well what you wanted to tell me, my friend. You should think about taking occlumency courses with professor Snape."

"Albus, I..."

"Calm down a bit, my dear Minerva."

He had called her his 'dear.' Surely it didn't mean...

"I think you should know," added Albus, "that you are not alone in your heartache."

Minerva's tongue was tied once again; she was completely at a loss for words. Luckily, Albus had spoken for her.

"Minerva McGonagall," he declared while grasping both of her hands, " my heart truly finds itself, in love with you."

She gazed up at his piercing eyes to find them boring into hers.

"For... for how long?" inquired Minerva in almost a whisper.

"Since the day I met you. I was too cowardly to bring it to your attention. But to my comfort, I discovered, years later, that you had feelings for me too. But, I thought that I was lying to myself... that I was too in love with you to decipher reality from reverie. But, I finally know that I was correct all along. You've felt the same for me."

"I love you too, Albus."

They gazed at each other once again before falling into a most passionate kiss. A sea of golden sparks emitted dazzlingly from Minerva's wand, which rested in her pocket. It was the beginning of a romance; one that was likely to last forever.