Post by pinkie on Dec 28, 2008 6:52:56 GMT -5
Secret Santa for Smaug
Merry Christmas!!!
The quiet was almost unbearable. Surrounded by tiny silver trinkets, Minerva sat at the desk of Albus Dumbledore. The summer after the battle, at might it hardly seemed as if time had passed by even though around her the world was rebuilding after the war. Her mind wandered as she tried to start the letter to aspiring pupils.
There is no-one who wins a war.
Albus had said that once, in relation to the First and Second World War, Muggle Wars Minerva had not understood. The pain of loss was the same for everyone, Albus had told her. She had smiled, pretending to agree. Thinking the pain of a mother losing a child would be very different to the pain a woman feels after losing her lover. She had been right.
Minerva sighed deeply, trying to rid herself of the negative thoughts. Ever since she had charged objects through the school, she could feel her age. She was getting on. She had passed her middle age, her child-bearing years were now behind her. She had shrivelled up when Albus...
passed on...
The pain did seem to alter. Having Albus' portrait in the office was a great comfort. Sometimes they spoke as they did over chess during the late nights they shared, drinking tea and cocoa. Minerva's pen held still over the parchment.
The first time she had ever seen Albus Dumbledore was when she had been one of his star pupils. In Hogwarts Transfiguration was regarded as one of the toughest subjects, but Minerva had found it intruiging, interesting and it had come come quite easily to her. Professor Dumbledore had been patient, answering questions she had, helping her with the priliminary efforts to become an Animagus. She mastered the skill when in College and she had received a lovely letter from him, telling her how proud he was that one of his pupils had become an Animagus. And a tabby cat at that.
She had travelled and she grew as a person, changing from an eager young girl into an able young woman, ready to face the world, willing to pass her knowledge on to other eager ones. She had reacted on an ad from Hogwarts.
She had been called into Albus' office, where their eyes had locked and the first thing that had come to her mind was:
'Bugger...'
She had never seen that twinkle before. When she was a student, he was just a kind professor, like Headmaster Dippet, unlike professor Kettleburn, who with so few limbs, was still capable of causing havoc.
She had never seen the kindness in his smile. She had never heard the bending of his voice, the warmth that came with every single word.
She instantly fell in love with him.
Minerva put pen to paper and started to write. The words came because she had written them so many times before. She could almost hear Albus' voice, distracting her, like he had always done. Asking where his sherbert lemons would be, asking her if she had seen this or that letter from the Ministry.
Having him not asking questions was much more distracting, she found out. She got up from the soft chair she was coming to love and walked to the window. From this window she had often seen him wave to her. Fawkes perch had been next to here. His singing had always been so calming, she missed Fawkes too. His song had helped cure her accident with the Stunning spells. Not as much has Albus' gentle ministrations had, but the tear of the phoenix seemed one of those things that had helped many of her aches and pains.
Pain of the heart it couldn't cure. His song would have been comforting though. In the East the darkness seemed to lift a little. Minerva remembered how she and Albus had watched the sunrise in the holidays, undisturbed by prying eyes. Albus' favour of comfort and luxury had been such a gallant part of his character: he had Transfigured an enormous boulder into a four poster bed once, ready made and they had made love in the open air, under the stars and then watched the sun rise. Ever so romantic.
Her eyes closed, she imagined being young and pretty, Albus' arms around her, her head against his shoulder, the scent of chocolate and lemon in her nose. The rays of the early sunshine hit her face, warming her, she could feel a smile curling on her lips.
Her hand touched her lips. A smile. Minerva couldn't remember the last time she had smiled. But here it was. She had not actively waited for a smile to break the icey clamp on her heart, but there it was. Things were changing.
Behind her she could hear the previous headmasters and Dilys Derwent wake up. Their yawns and well wishes transported her back to the room. The brightness hurt her eyes a little and she strode through the space, looking for a mirror. She found one and looked at herself. Her hair had grayed so much since Albus' death. The wrinkles that had amused her before had become more pronounced, trying to cope with Albus' death and the war and trying to keep her students safe from the dictatorial coup that had taken place.
In dreams she could still see it. In dreams she pulled her wand quicker, in her dreams she was faster, in her dreams she saved him and would be by his side until one of them would die of old age.
The first time they kissed, she had almost felt as if the skies and the earth had been rearranged. Her friends all looked so different, she started to see people in other light. Albus always said that love was a force. That it changed everything. He had been right.
Minerva turned to the portaits, some of them were out, probably visiting their counterparts. Albus was in his frame and he had been following her. She could feel his eyes upon her and she gave him a tiny smile.
"Progress, my dear." he said and winked. Minerva smiled a little wider.
Christmas had always been a huge event at Hogwarts. There was music and a big tree she and Filius Flitwick helped decorate. Pomona Sprout brought in holly from her greenhouses - why the trees were in a greenhouse was still a mystery to Minerva. Poppy Pomfrey always stayed around, taking care of minor accidents. The elves made the most delicious treats and the students got ready for their holidays. Most of them spent Christmas with their families and the ones who weren't usually got together in the Great Hall, playing games, talking and singing.
Today Hagrid had brought in an enormous tree and set it up. His eyes were watery from the cold outside. Or so he said. Hagrid missed Albus too. Christmas was one of Albus' favourite times of the year - if you didn't inculde Valentine's Day.
Her wand in hand, Minerva set to work, Transfiguring little wooden chips into little birds that clamped onto the branches of the evergreen. Filius waved his wand, never-melting icicles went on other branches. Twinkeling lights appeared. From afar Minerva could hear a couple of female students singing carols.
Others passed her by, cheerily wishing her a merry Christmas. Minerva felt how her fake smile had made place for a real one. She wished them well too, Transfiguring some of the icicles into great glass balls, all silver and blue in memory of Albus: his blue eyes and silver beard were in that tree now, to be looked upon by all the students and staff.
Indeed she was slightly sentimental. This was a year she would have to do without gingerbread houses, made Muggle-style by Albus and brought to her on a tray with a cup of Earl Grey tea on Christmas morning. She would have to do without the off-key singing emerging from her bathroom. She would have to do without the well-chosen presents given to her after breakfast.
She pushed back the tears that were welling up in her eyes. Her knuckles were white as her hand clutched her wand. Albus said there was nothing wrong with any human emotion and that by embracing them, you would be a better person. Minerva felt that if she didn't put a lid on it, she would wallow in her grief. As she silently sniffled back the tears, she lost focus on a glass ball and dropped it on the floor.
That evening, Minerva slowly decorated Albus' office. Her office. Fairylights twinkled a golden glimmer on the shelves, sprigs of pine and holly decorated the golden frames of the portraits. Albus had been away, in his frame was a little note: 'be right back' it read. Minerva chuckled over that note, it was one that she had so often found when Fudge had announced he was coming over for a 'chat'.
A house-elf brought Minerva some milky cocoa and gingersnaps and Minerva picked up a much fondled copy of Pride and Prejudice and settled herself in the fluffy seat Albus had placed in a corner near the fireplace. A fire was going and the wood crackled in the flames. Her legs wrapped under her, a blanket all around her and her cocoa on the table, she focused on Darcy and Elizabeth, thinking herself lucky that when she fell in love with Albus, he had made it abundantly clear that he had felt the same way about her too. No dilly-dallying when it came to love, her Albus.
Late in the night, she passed the portrait as she went to check the Great Hall - a habit of hers since the school had been occupied by Death Eaters. In the frame was Albus, fast asleep. Wearing the bright purple pj's she had given him the last Christmas they had spent together. How he had done it, she did not know, for the other Headmasters and Dilys always seemed to wear the clothes they wore during the day when asleep.
For the first time since Albus had passed on, Minerva laughed. Out loud. Albus' portrait woke from it and smiled beamingly at Minerva.
"Merry Christmas, my dear." he said.
"Merry Christmas." she answered.
Merry Christmas!!!
A smile for Christmas
The quiet was almost unbearable. Surrounded by tiny silver trinkets, Minerva sat at the desk of Albus Dumbledore. The summer after the battle, at might it hardly seemed as if time had passed by even though around her the world was rebuilding after the war. Her mind wandered as she tried to start the letter to aspiring pupils.
There is no-one who wins a war.
Albus had said that once, in relation to the First and Second World War, Muggle Wars Minerva had not understood. The pain of loss was the same for everyone, Albus had told her. She had smiled, pretending to agree. Thinking the pain of a mother losing a child would be very different to the pain a woman feels after losing her lover. She had been right.
Minerva sighed deeply, trying to rid herself of the negative thoughts. Ever since she had charged objects through the school, she could feel her age. She was getting on. She had passed her middle age, her child-bearing years were now behind her. She had shrivelled up when Albus...
passed on...
The pain did seem to alter. Having Albus' portrait in the office was a great comfort. Sometimes they spoke as they did over chess during the late nights they shared, drinking tea and cocoa. Minerva's pen held still over the parchment.
The first time she had ever seen Albus Dumbledore was when she had been one of his star pupils. In Hogwarts Transfiguration was regarded as one of the toughest subjects, but Minerva had found it intruiging, interesting and it had come come quite easily to her. Professor Dumbledore had been patient, answering questions she had, helping her with the priliminary efforts to become an Animagus. She mastered the skill when in College and she had received a lovely letter from him, telling her how proud he was that one of his pupils had become an Animagus. And a tabby cat at that.
She had travelled and she grew as a person, changing from an eager young girl into an able young woman, ready to face the world, willing to pass her knowledge on to other eager ones. She had reacted on an ad from Hogwarts.
She had been called into Albus' office, where their eyes had locked and the first thing that had come to her mind was:
'Bugger...'
She had never seen that twinkle before. When she was a student, he was just a kind professor, like Headmaster Dippet, unlike professor Kettleburn, who with so few limbs, was still capable of causing havoc.
She had never seen the kindness in his smile. She had never heard the bending of his voice, the warmth that came with every single word.
She instantly fell in love with him.
Minerva put pen to paper and started to write. The words came because she had written them so many times before. She could almost hear Albus' voice, distracting her, like he had always done. Asking where his sherbert lemons would be, asking her if she had seen this or that letter from the Ministry.
Having him not asking questions was much more distracting, she found out. She got up from the soft chair she was coming to love and walked to the window. From this window she had often seen him wave to her. Fawkes perch had been next to here. His singing had always been so calming, she missed Fawkes too. His song had helped cure her accident with the Stunning spells. Not as much has Albus' gentle ministrations had, but the tear of the phoenix seemed one of those things that had helped many of her aches and pains.
Pain of the heart it couldn't cure. His song would have been comforting though. In the East the darkness seemed to lift a little. Minerva remembered how she and Albus had watched the sunrise in the holidays, undisturbed by prying eyes. Albus' favour of comfort and luxury had been such a gallant part of his character: he had Transfigured an enormous boulder into a four poster bed once, ready made and they had made love in the open air, under the stars and then watched the sun rise. Ever so romantic.
Her eyes closed, she imagined being young and pretty, Albus' arms around her, her head against his shoulder, the scent of chocolate and lemon in her nose. The rays of the early sunshine hit her face, warming her, she could feel a smile curling on her lips.
Her hand touched her lips. A smile. Minerva couldn't remember the last time she had smiled. But here it was. She had not actively waited for a smile to break the icey clamp on her heart, but there it was. Things were changing.
Behind her she could hear the previous headmasters and Dilys Derwent wake up. Their yawns and well wishes transported her back to the room. The brightness hurt her eyes a little and she strode through the space, looking for a mirror. She found one and looked at herself. Her hair had grayed so much since Albus' death. The wrinkles that had amused her before had become more pronounced, trying to cope with Albus' death and the war and trying to keep her students safe from the dictatorial coup that had taken place.
In dreams she could still see it. In dreams she pulled her wand quicker, in her dreams she was faster, in her dreams she saved him and would be by his side until one of them would die of old age.
The first time they kissed, she had almost felt as if the skies and the earth had been rearranged. Her friends all looked so different, she started to see people in other light. Albus always said that love was a force. That it changed everything. He had been right.
Minerva turned to the portaits, some of them were out, probably visiting their counterparts. Albus was in his frame and he had been following her. She could feel his eyes upon her and she gave him a tiny smile.
"Progress, my dear." he said and winked. Minerva smiled a little wider.
Christmas had always been a huge event at Hogwarts. There was music and a big tree she and Filius Flitwick helped decorate. Pomona Sprout brought in holly from her greenhouses - why the trees were in a greenhouse was still a mystery to Minerva. Poppy Pomfrey always stayed around, taking care of minor accidents. The elves made the most delicious treats and the students got ready for their holidays. Most of them spent Christmas with their families and the ones who weren't usually got together in the Great Hall, playing games, talking and singing.
Today Hagrid had brought in an enormous tree and set it up. His eyes were watery from the cold outside. Or so he said. Hagrid missed Albus too. Christmas was one of Albus' favourite times of the year - if you didn't inculde Valentine's Day.
Her wand in hand, Minerva set to work, Transfiguring little wooden chips into little birds that clamped onto the branches of the evergreen. Filius waved his wand, never-melting icicles went on other branches. Twinkeling lights appeared. From afar Minerva could hear a couple of female students singing carols.
Others passed her by, cheerily wishing her a merry Christmas. Minerva felt how her fake smile had made place for a real one. She wished them well too, Transfiguring some of the icicles into great glass balls, all silver and blue in memory of Albus: his blue eyes and silver beard were in that tree now, to be looked upon by all the students and staff.
Indeed she was slightly sentimental. This was a year she would have to do without gingerbread houses, made Muggle-style by Albus and brought to her on a tray with a cup of Earl Grey tea on Christmas morning. She would have to do without the off-key singing emerging from her bathroom. She would have to do without the well-chosen presents given to her after breakfast.
She pushed back the tears that were welling up in her eyes. Her knuckles were white as her hand clutched her wand. Albus said there was nothing wrong with any human emotion and that by embracing them, you would be a better person. Minerva felt that if she didn't put a lid on it, she would wallow in her grief. As she silently sniffled back the tears, she lost focus on a glass ball and dropped it on the floor.
That evening, Minerva slowly decorated Albus' office. Her office. Fairylights twinkled a golden glimmer on the shelves, sprigs of pine and holly decorated the golden frames of the portraits. Albus had been away, in his frame was a little note: 'be right back' it read. Minerva chuckled over that note, it was one that she had so often found when Fudge had announced he was coming over for a 'chat'.
A house-elf brought Minerva some milky cocoa and gingersnaps and Minerva picked up a much fondled copy of Pride and Prejudice and settled herself in the fluffy seat Albus had placed in a corner near the fireplace. A fire was going and the wood crackled in the flames. Her legs wrapped under her, a blanket all around her and her cocoa on the table, she focused on Darcy and Elizabeth, thinking herself lucky that when she fell in love with Albus, he had made it abundantly clear that he had felt the same way about her too. No dilly-dallying when it came to love, her Albus.
Late in the night, she passed the portrait as she went to check the Great Hall - a habit of hers since the school had been occupied by Death Eaters. In the frame was Albus, fast asleep. Wearing the bright purple pj's she had given him the last Christmas they had spent together. How he had done it, she did not know, for the other Headmasters and Dilys always seemed to wear the clothes they wore during the day when asleep.
For the first time since Albus had passed on, Minerva laughed. Out loud. Albus' portrait woke from it and smiled beamingly at Minerva.
"Merry Christmas, my dear." he said.
"Merry Christmas." she answered.
