Reflections of Love and Loss

Albus Dumbledore paced around in front of his desk. He was at his summer home in France, storming back and forth across his elaborate study. Every now and then he would stop to examine a trinket sitting on the top of his desk, or place a wand to his temple in a very irritated fashion. He was fuming.

"How could they do this?" he roared, nearly shattering the small, glass seal that he held in his hands.

His pet phoenix, Fawkes, jumped in alarm, scattering brilliant gold and scarlet feathers on the floor. Few people have ever seen Albus Dumbledore this angry, and the rest of them didn't wish to. He stopped at his desk and slammed his wand down rather more forcefully than he should have because a set of crystal phials on his desk rattled ominously. He snatched up a piece of thick, yellowing parchment and held it up to read it again. In a tall, loopy hand, written in a dark ink that stood out against the creamy color of the paper, was a letter addressed to Albus Dumbledore. The letter read:

Dear Mr. Dumbledore,
We regret to inform you that your wife, a Ms. Minerva McGonagall, was admitted to our hospital late last night. She has been hit in the chest area with four powerful stunning spells, and is currently in a heavy comatose. We expect her to survive the ordeal, but further complications may arise. In the case that they do, we will inform you at the first notice.
Our deepest sympathies,
Artimus Waggoner
Head Healer
St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

He read and reread the letter, as if the words would change, and suddenly it would all turn out to be a joke. If only that could be. If only his dear Minerva would pop out of thin air, laughing and smiling, falling into his gentle embrace. But she wouldn't, and there wasn't even a guarantee that she would ever be in his arms again. That he would ever run his fingers through her soft, ebony hair, that he would ever feel her smooth, delicate hand in his, or feel the brush of her full, cherry lips against his. He sat down heavily in a high backed, velvet chair, sinking into its comforting deep scarlet fabric. He placed his hands on his face and heaved a sigh. How it pained him to be without her, to not turn his head and see her beaming face look back, or to not roll over and have her comforting weight beside him. It was as if a part of him was miles away, leaving a gaping hole in his soul. A small house elf came in carrying a pitcher of pumpkin juice and a silver candy dish on a large tray.

"W-would sir be wanting his sherbet lemons and pumpkin juice? Tilly has brought them for Professor Dumbledore, sir."

Tilly the house elf entered her master's study timidly. She had never seen her master so angry and wasn't quite willing to see it happen again. Albus lifted his head, and she noticed that his face looked paler and more worn.

"Yes, thank you, Tilly," he said, trying to smile, but it only came out in a grimace.

"Could-could Tilly be knowing where mistress is?" she asked daringly.

"Minerva is very hurt. I only wish I could see her."

"Well why doesn't master go to see mistress?"

Albus stood up. His tired face lit up; his eyes regained the sparkle that only his love could bring.

"Tilly, you're brilliant! I will go. I don't care what the Ministry says. I refuse to hide out in my home until they see truth. Not while Minerva is alone and hurt."

Suddenly, he disappeared with a faint pop, leaving Tilly standing holding the tray, with a very confused expression.

He appeared in the lobby of a very clean, white looking building. All the hurt that had built up inside him since he had received his letter was slowly dissipating. He walked purposefully towards the room at the end of the recovery ward. The stares that met him as he past went unnoticed. He reached the last door, the small plastic label on the door read "7-B". The lights inside were dimmed, and the door burst open as he strode up to it. Nobody tried to stop him from entering. They knew who he was and who was in that room. The only thing they didn't know was what that woman meant to him. He shut the door behind him, and it closed with a faint click. He spotted her on the bed in the corner. Even draped in pressed white linen, she looked like an angel. He rushed to her side and clasped her hand in his. He was careful to avoid the tubes protruding from her hand. Her hand was cold and clammy. It made his heart ache just look at her pallid face. Her ebony hair floating about her face made her look almost ghostly. She was devoid of emotion or expression.

Summoning the chair from the corner, he sat by her bedside and looked at her face. She looked so peaceful, so placidly content that Albus found it hard to imagine the pain she must have endured only mere hours before. He patted her hand gingerly. The tubes running from her hands disappeared into floating pouches, containing vital potions to speed up her recovery.

"Minerva, I don't know if you can understand me. I don't even know if you can hear me, but I have to say this. I love you. I know we've said it a million times, uttered it in sickness and health, but it's now, when we need each other the most that it means the most. You mean more to me than everything I've ever had. Just seeing your face can help me through everything. When things are the worst, I don't worry, because I know that I have you. But it's now, when I don't have you, and I don't even know if I'll ever have you again, that I worry. I worry that I've not said things like this enough. I worry that I haven't been as good a husband as you deserve, and I worry-I worry that I may not deserve you. If you can hear me, Tabby, and even if you can't, I want you to know this. You mean the world to me, and I hope that I mean as much to you. You'll make it, Kitten, I know you will. You're strong, and you aren't a McGonagall for nothing." He smiled a small smile.

He took a deep breath. All the things he'd wanted to say, amidst everything in their lives, was coming out now. Now, when there was nothing to be doing, no distractions, and no one to hear his loving words.

"Minnie, we've faced so much together. We've braved so many dangers, taken so many risks, and we never stopped once to think of the dangers. People would think that death wouldn't faze us. That we'd move on, because it's the way things are, but I wouldn't ever move on if something happened to you. You aren't just a part of my life, you are my life, and without you, I would die. I-I just wanted you to know that. You took my heart before I knew you, and in return, I took yours. No matter what, no matter if you're at home with me, or here in this hospital, you will always have me, and I hope beyond hope, that I will always have you."

The silence in the room at that moment wasn't lonely. It was peaceful. Albus looked down at her and he swore he'd seen her smile. She gave his hand a feeble squeeze, and he knew, from that moment, that she would be alright. He felt tears on his face, and he didn't bother to wipe them away. At that moment, that night, two people were happy and peaceful in a darkened hospital room. In that closed ward, two hearts made one, and they knew they'd be together. Always and forever.