Post by MMADfan on Mar 3, 2010 1:15:24 GMT -5
“Memory for Mourning”
Summary: On a difficult day, Pomona gives Minerva a special gift. Written in response to Stefdarlin’s “Rolling Rambles” challenge #4. (Someone receives or cares for a plant. Who, what, when, where, how... that is all for you to decide.) A Resolving a Misunderstanding universe fic; ADMM.
Characters: Minerva McGonagall, Pomona Sprout, Filius Flitwick, and a host of others
Setting: the Hogwarts Headmistress’s office on a warm day in June 2012.
Genres: Drama, Flashfic
Warning: spoilers for A Long Vernal Season. And I suppose I should give a “sadness alert,” too.
Minerva took the small plant from Pomona. Its glazed grey pot felt smooth, cold, and heavy in her hands.
“It’s from the memory plant he gave me when he . . . before he . . . before you . . .” In her incoherence, Pomona looked toward Filius for help.
“Yes, I remember,” Minerva said softly, her throat tight and her eyes hot with unshed tears. How could she forget that day, fifteen years before, when Albus had first died to the world, when she had held his heart in stillness for more than five very long minutes. And now his heart was finally still forever, and this time, she grieved truly.
“I have taken good care of it over the years, and this shoot is as strong as its parent,” Pomona said. “Old enough, too, to already give off some healing aroma. I am sure that if you wished, Severus would be pleased to brew you some soothing potion from mine. I haven’t taken a harvest in several months. There are leaves aplenty, though it hasn’t bloomed yet.”
“I need no potion to remember him with joy, to remember our happiness despite my grief, and I have no desire to dull my sense of loss with a draught of any kind. It is a generous and thoughtful offer, though, and I do appreciate it,” Minerva replied with a slight nod. “It is time for me to mourn him, now and in my own way. My memory is for mourning.” She lifted the small evergreen and inhaled its bright, pungent fragrance. She sighed and closed her eyes. “This will, however, have a place on my bedside table. Thank you, Pomona.”
“If you need anything, if you need either of us at Hogwarts—”
“Or for anything else,” Filius said, clearing his throat and wiping his glasses on his bright blue handkerchief, “you know we are completely at your disposal whatever you may need.”
“And at any time,” Pomona added.
“I will call you if I do. Severus has it all in hand, though. I haven’t had to spare even a moment’s thought for Hogwarts or the OWLs and NEWTs next week. He simply stepped in quietly and is doing what needs to be done. He will be a fine Headmaster when that day comes. Albus will be . . . would be proud of him.” Minerva blinked and a few tears rolled down her cheeks. “He took everyone out for lunch. I just couldn’t . . . I needed some time without them all hovering about. He simply herded them all out the door, wouldn’t brook any arguments from them. I was glad to have them here, but it was a relief to have a few moments to myself—and some time to see you both alone, as well.”
“Here he comes now,” Pomona said, looking out the window of the Headmistress’s office. “Here they all are.”
Minerva looked out at the group crossing the lawn, Severus slightly ahead of the others, seeming to be restraining an impatient pace, Poppy beside him, and the others all behind them: Quin, Gertrude, Gareth, Melina, Helena, Egeria, Murdoch and Estelle, and then all the children seeming to float about them, like a halo of bright sparks carried in their wake. Quin, as always, was at Gertrude’s right, his arm around her shoulders, she, looking tired and much older than she had just the week before, leaned against him, heedless of anyone else, and the rest numbly followed, looking as though without Severus to keep pace, they might all simply stop right where they were, like children playing a game of statues.
“Yes, here they all are. My family,” Minerva whispered. “My family, my memory.”
Author’s Note: The event that Pomona refers to at the beginning of the story, and which Minerva remembers, is from Death’s Dominion, Chapter 20, “Yet they shall not break,” in which Albus gives Pomona a memory plant on his “deathbed.” How Minerva and Albus orchestrated his “death” is a large part of Death’s Dominion, so I won’t go into detail here! (If you haven't read it, you can download the fic from the Our Mirror of Erised group or read it over at fanfiction.net or on the Petulant Poetess.)
Summary: On a difficult day, Pomona gives Minerva a special gift. Written in response to Stefdarlin’s “Rolling Rambles” challenge #4. (Someone receives or cares for a plant. Who, what, when, where, how... that is all for you to decide.) A Resolving a Misunderstanding universe fic; ADMM.
Characters: Minerva McGonagall, Pomona Sprout, Filius Flitwick, and a host of others
Setting: the Hogwarts Headmistress’s office on a warm day in June 2012.
Genres: Drama, Flashfic
Warning: spoilers for A Long Vernal Season. And I suppose I should give a “sadness alert,” too.
*ETA: Kleenex Warning!*
Minerva took the small plant from Pomona. Its glazed grey pot felt smooth, cold, and heavy in her hands.
“It’s from the memory plant he gave me when he . . . before he . . . before you . . .” In her incoherence, Pomona looked toward Filius for help.
“Yes, I remember,” Minerva said softly, her throat tight and her eyes hot with unshed tears. How could she forget that day, fifteen years before, when Albus had first died to the world, when she had held his heart in stillness for more than five very long minutes. And now his heart was finally still forever, and this time, she grieved truly.
“I have taken good care of it over the years, and this shoot is as strong as its parent,” Pomona said. “Old enough, too, to already give off some healing aroma. I am sure that if you wished, Severus would be pleased to brew you some soothing potion from mine. I haven’t taken a harvest in several months. There are leaves aplenty, though it hasn’t bloomed yet.”
“I need no potion to remember him with joy, to remember our happiness despite my grief, and I have no desire to dull my sense of loss with a draught of any kind. It is a generous and thoughtful offer, though, and I do appreciate it,” Minerva replied with a slight nod. “It is time for me to mourn him, now and in my own way. My memory is for mourning.” She lifted the small evergreen and inhaled its bright, pungent fragrance. She sighed and closed her eyes. “This will, however, have a place on my bedside table. Thank you, Pomona.”
“If you need anything, if you need either of us at Hogwarts—”
“Or for anything else,” Filius said, clearing his throat and wiping his glasses on his bright blue handkerchief, “you know we are completely at your disposal whatever you may need.”
“And at any time,” Pomona added.
“I will call you if I do. Severus has it all in hand, though. I haven’t had to spare even a moment’s thought for Hogwarts or the OWLs and NEWTs next week. He simply stepped in quietly and is doing what needs to be done. He will be a fine Headmaster when that day comes. Albus will be . . . would be proud of him.” Minerva blinked and a few tears rolled down her cheeks. “He took everyone out for lunch. I just couldn’t . . . I needed some time without them all hovering about. He simply herded them all out the door, wouldn’t brook any arguments from them. I was glad to have them here, but it was a relief to have a few moments to myself—and some time to see you both alone, as well.”
“Here he comes now,” Pomona said, looking out the window of the Headmistress’s office. “Here they all are.”
Minerva looked out at the group crossing the lawn, Severus slightly ahead of the others, seeming to be restraining an impatient pace, Poppy beside him, and the others all behind them: Quin, Gertrude, Gareth, Melina, Helena, Egeria, Murdoch and Estelle, and then all the children seeming to float about them, like a halo of bright sparks carried in their wake. Quin, as always, was at Gertrude’s right, his arm around her shoulders, she, looking tired and much older than she had just the week before, leaned against him, heedless of anyone else, and the rest numbly followed, looking as though without Severus to keep pace, they might all simply stop right where they were, like children playing a game of statues.
“Yes, here they all are. My family,” Minerva whispered. “My family, my memory.”
~ Fin ~
Author’s Note: The event that Pomona refers to at the beginning of the story, and which Minerva remembers, is from Death’s Dominion, Chapter 20, “Yet they shall not break,” in which Albus gives Pomona a memory plant on his “deathbed.” How Minerva and Albus orchestrated his “death” is a large part of Death’s Dominion, so I won’t go into detail here! (If you haven't read it, you can download the fic from the Our Mirror of Erised group or read it over at fanfiction.net or on the Petulant Poetess.)
Thank you!