Lament | PG13 | Harry Potter
Title: Lament
Prompt: grief
Challenge: 100 Fic Challenge (#22)
Fandom: Minerva McGonagall/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter
Requested by: surena_13
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 564
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: This was a bit of a toughie to write…I tried to write something believable for Minerva and I really hope I succeeded! Let me know how I did!
-
Minerva McGonagall coiled the thin gray strands of her hair into a braid and tied a thin blue ribbon around the ends to hold it in place. Several wispy gray threads remained in her palm and she sighed, rolling them into a ball that she discarded in the waste bin.
She took in a deep breath, holding it in her lungs until they burned. She released the air slowly and flicked her eyes to gaze at her reflection in the small mirror. She’d aged rapidly in these past few months. It was no surprise; everyone had.
Everything would slow down again now that Lord Voldemort had been killed. The frenetic, ceaseless days and nights of worry and fear were over. It was time for renewal, for peace. The snake that had constricted around the entire wizarding world had mercifully released its deathly grip.
Minerva felt the ubiquitous relief that had now settled upon them all. The world seemed new, fresh.
But she knew that the world was the same as it had always been: it was now simply devoid of its two most powerful presences.
It still pained her to acknowledge that Albus Dumbledore no longer walked the earth. He existed in another realm now, but the imprint of his life was still everywhere that Minerva turned. He’d been kind and generous, loyal and fiercely dedicated. He’d been everything that Minerva had ever aspired to be.
Helping herself to a nightcap of fire whisky, Minerva could no longer fight her mind as it drifted to the antithesis of her mentor. She experienced a flood of conflicting feelings at the thought of the man who’d existed underneath the all-consuming veneer of dark magic. She knew that Tom Marvolo Riddle had been destroyed years before Lord Voldemort was, and it was for that hopeless boy that she felt a pang of grief.
She thought of him sometimes, remembering how he’d been in school rather than his reign of destruction. He’d been cool and seductive in his way, effortlessly handsome and gifted in a way that had been wasted on him. Minerva grieved for him sometimes at night, when her defenses were low and a melancholic mood overpowered her. She grieved the boy who had never really lived at all.
Minerva sipped at the liquor, reveling in the burn in her throat. She wondered what kind of woman she was for mourning a boy that had been a lie, that had never truly existed. Did that make her a traitor?
She settled into her bed and extinguished the candles with a careless flick of her wand. She wasn’t a traitor. She wasn’t a bad woman. She did not forgive the dark wizard for the malevolent things he had done. She simply lamented the figment of a lost child who’d never been given the chance to live, let alone harness his potential in a way that would benefit the world rather than destroy it.
Minerva blinked up into the darkness of her room, feeling the heavy weight of loss pressing down on her. She knew this feeling would pass. The world was in mourning but would soon become new again, would rebuild and refocus. The world would move forward, and so would Minerva.
But tonight, in the still quietness of her private thoughts, Minerva McGonagall would grieve a boy for the simple fact that no one else would.
---
Prompt: grief
Challenge: 100 Fic Challenge (#22)
Fandom: Minerva McGonagall/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter
Requested by: surena_13
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 564
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: This was a bit of a toughie to write…I tried to write something believable for Minerva and I really hope I succeeded! Let me know how I did!
-
Minerva McGonagall coiled the thin gray strands of her hair into a braid and tied a thin blue ribbon around the ends to hold it in place. Several wispy gray threads remained in her palm and she sighed, rolling them into a ball that she discarded in the waste bin.
She took in a deep breath, holding it in her lungs until they burned. She released the air slowly and flicked her eyes to gaze at her reflection in the small mirror. She’d aged rapidly in these past few months. It was no surprise; everyone had.
Everything would slow down again now that Lord Voldemort had been killed. The frenetic, ceaseless days and nights of worry and fear were over. It was time for renewal, for peace. The snake that had constricted around the entire wizarding world had mercifully released its deathly grip.
Minerva felt the ubiquitous relief that had now settled upon them all. The world seemed new, fresh.
But she knew that the world was the same as it had always been: it was now simply devoid of its two most powerful presences.
It still pained her to acknowledge that Albus Dumbledore no longer walked the earth. He existed in another realm now, but the imprint of his life was still everywhere that Minerva turned. He’d been kind and generous, loyal and fiercely dedicated. He’d been everything that Minerva had ever aspired to be.
Helping herself to a nightcap of fire whisky, Minerva could no longer fight her mind as it drifted to the antithesis of her mentor. She experienced a flood of conflicting feelings at the thought of the man who’d existed underneath the all-consuming veneer of dark magic. She knew that Tom Marvolo Riddle had been destroyed years before Lord Voldemort was, and it was for that hopeless boy that she felt a pang of grief.
She thought of him sometimes, remembering how he’d been in school rather than his reign of destruction. He’d been cool and seductive in his way, effortlessly handsome and gifted in a way that had been wasted on him. Minerva grieved for him sometimes at night, when her defenses were low and a melancholic mood overpowered her. She grieved the boy who had never really lived at all.
Minerva sipped at the liquor, reveling in the burn in her throat. She wondered what kind of woman she was for mourning a boy that had been a lie, that had never truly existed. Did that make her a traitor?
She settled into her bed and extinguished the candles with a careless flick of her wand. She wasn’t a traitor. She wasn’t a bad woman. She did not forgive the dark wizard for the malevolent things he had done. She simply lamented the figment of a lost child who’d never been given the chance to live, let alone harness his potential in a way that would benefit the world rather than destroy it.
Minerva blinked up into the darkness of her room, feeling the heavy weight of loss pressing down on her. She knew this feeling would pass. The world was in mourning but would soon become new again, would rebuild and refocus. The world would move forward, and so would Minerva.
But tonight, in the still quietness of her private thoughts, Minerva McGonagall would grieve a boy for the simple fact that no one else would.
---