For in that sleep what dreams may come

His hand is soothing like a mid-summer’s day breeze upon my tear-strewn cheek. The wind blows, catching me off guard and pushes me into his arms. They are stronger than I had imagined and before I realize it, my hand traces up the curved musculature so purposely hidden beneath dark robes.

He smiles at me; I know without looking up. “Are you alright Minerva?” he asks with that god like smooth voice of his. It seemed to purr… oh wait that was me. I’m purring into his robes, I’m buried in them and his arms wrap around me protectively. Keeping the wind at bay with that heavy cloth, he leans forward and down enough to place a gentle kiss on the top of my head.

My bright green eyes shoot up at his, the hair around my widow’s peak brushing against his nose. Our eyes meet and I feel my knees give out. What power he has. He catches me and slowly we both lower onto the emerald grass. He’s saying something to me, but I’m sobbing into his chest. His rough hand strokes my head till it reaches my bun and he releases it. Raven locks streaming with grey fall down my back and he lifts a handful to his snout and inhales. “Minerva, your scent is exactly as I remembered.”

I pull away, wiping away hot tears with the back of my bony hand. Looking down at it, I notice my makeup is running and try to look anywhere but at him before he sees it. Too late, my jaw is held between his fingers and turning my messy mask toward him. He’s still smiling as he looks me in the eyes. His thumb wipes away a charcoal tear and he leans down to kiss the spot. I can’t help but muffle a small sob at the feel of his lips on my flesh. I lift trembling fingers to his very distinguished jawline and trace it wonderingly.

He notices my fear and strokes my cheek with his thumb. “It’s going to be alright Minerva…. Minerva…..”

“Minerva.”

“Hmmm….” I moan.

“Minerva!” a small hand is on my arm shaking me. My head jerks up and I look around quickly. Stone walls, spiral staircase, large wooden desk, and… papers. Tons and tons of papers. Some stacked high, others spread open where I had been looking over them before dosing off. I remember why I woke up and look to my side. Poppy Pomfrey is standing next to me with a concerned look in her eyes.
“Minerva, are you alright?”

Her staring is making me uncomfortable and I wipe something off my cheek. Looking down it seems I’ve been crying and my makeup’s running. “Yes… yes I was just dreaming.” I say nonchalant.

“About Albus?” She asks me with a raised brow. I feel as if I were being interrogated.

“Wha?... Oh, yes,” I mutter quietly, staring at the only wooden part of the desk not covered with papers. “about Albus…” I finish dishonestly.

“Mmhmm, I thought so,” the plump woman says confidently. She places a warm arm around the back of my shoulders, “it’ll be alright Minerva, you’ll see.”

“Oh, I know it’ll be alright,” I say, my confidence growing as sleep begins to slither away from my mind. I gaze down at the masses of piled white on my desk hopelessly. “How do you think he did it? I never once saw him actually working on paperwork, yet his desk was always clean; I’ve been here for six hours straight and have barely scratched the surface.”

Pomfrey smiles that knowing smile of hers, “Well, did you ever see those paper airplanes always flying through the hallways and on the campus grounds?” She winks at me and chuckles.

My eyes widen, “You mean he didn’t do the work? But, but how did he get away with it?” I thought I knew the answer already, but I secretly hope I was wrong so that I might follow in his footsteps.

Pomfrey just shrugs, “He was Dumbledor, I guess that’s the only explanation for it.” I feel my shoulders sag, my thought correct. Suddenly, Pomfrey perks up, coming out of some distant memory and looking at me straight in the eyes. “Now, Miss Minerva McGonagall, you are to leave this office right now and go and get some proper sleep. It’ll do neither you nor Hogwarts any good if it’s Headmaster is out sick or too tired to perform her day-to-day activities.”

I laugh half-heartedly, shrugging her arm off of my shoulders and pushing the enormous chair back. I stand, stretching the sleep from my muscles. “I suppose you’re right. Thanks for coming to check on me Poppy; I would have slept the night here if you hadn’t woken me.”

She smiles an award-winning smile thinking she had done some good for someone and pats me on the back as we walked out of the still unfamiliar office together. In my mind, she couldn’t have done anything more cruel.