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The doors to the castle’s main chambers were slammed shut. A sharp noise hung in the air as heels clicked, heading onwards, deeper and deeper into said private quarters.
It was the dead of night.
Deep, deep darkness engulfed Minerva. It was the only thing she could do to calm herself down, to help herself breathe… or so she thought.
She lay there, on her gigantic half empty bed, with wide open eyes that stared at absolutely nothing. And then, as her heartbeat slowed down and she let herself release a sigh of sincerest relief, whispers of the past brushed her ears.
“Mum!! How could you! I thought I had it!”
A distant laugh reverberated in the back of her head. As her mind’s eye painted one of her memories, she could now see them moving around, talking to her animatedly, as if over twenty years hadn’t passed at all.
There he was: her teenage son with curtains of shiny black hair, wearing a greenish blue sweater a tad too large for him; his normally pale face flushed with laughter. And there he was, too. Tall and lanky like he had always been in life; with silver streaked red hair, bright purple robes and that same mischievous, lovely spark that used to shine proudly in both of his very light blue eyes.
She could almost feel him looking at her. X-raying her. She could almost feel Severus’ dark eyes proudly gazing up at her like they used to, too.
“Oh dear!” Albus’ voice chuckled in her head. One of his ghostly hands ruffled Severus’ neat black hair, “It rather seems like our winner for this chess tournament is none other than the same as last time. Who would have thought! Well done, Minerva!”
Tears welled up in her eyes, but she wouldn’t let them fall. She couldn’t, she had cried enough. She must have run out of tears by now, she couldn’t possibly have any more.
She shut her eyes tightly, trying to avoid the inevitable. The darkness was the same with her eyes closed, but the two voices dissolved. For a moment she thought it had worked. It was over. She’d done it, they were gone, they wouldn’t cloud her mind anymore, they were gone, they were gone, they were gone—
“Mummy?”
The adorable face of her five year old Severus appeared before her.
“I-it’s too scary… the thunder…” his tiny form winced. A big, fluffy, purple octopus plushie was in his arms. “C-can I sleep here?”
A massive thunder struck somewhere in the distance. And then, out of the blue, all of her memories flooded her mercilessly.
Minerva gasped. It was unbearable. It was torture. It was as if something inside her had snapped, unleashing chaos within her. She opened her eyes again, trying to return to calm, trying to regain some control; yet nothing remained of the darkness that surrounded her mere seconds ago. She could see the memories now. They were there, with her, even if they truly were not.
And there Albus was, a finger twirling a strand of her dark hair, a look of the tenderest of affections written all over his face. And suddenly it wasn’t Albus but Severus there, his Hogwarts letter had arrived and his eyes shone like never before, he was about to accomplish great things, they were sure of it! And there they were, the three of them, at the foot of their Christmas tree opening presents, a younger Albus at her side, a dark haired baby with big and dark eyes laying on her lap.
She was prisoner of every imaginable memory. Ministry balls, romantic moonlit dinners, birthday songs, a wedding ring, first year robes, a purple octopus plushie, a bag of lemon drops, many dancing lessons, buying Severus’ first cauldron, Albus’ laugh in the background as her and Severus discussed quidditch heatedly; getting Severus through his first heartbreak; Severus’ graduation, both of them standing proud as tears stung in her eyes; Severus’ potions master journey; his plan for the greater good and Albus standing proudly behind him, two long and thin hands laying on Severus’ shoulders; dark figures everywhere, a flash of green light—
“Madam Headmistress!!” Squeaked an old house elf for the fourth time that morning.
Minerva opened her eyes slowly, being highly conscious of every fiber of her body, afraid to see the world around her ever again.
What greeted her was a very wrinkly and very worried looking house elf staring up at her, standing next to her bed.
“Felky thought Madam Headmistress would like to have breakfast alone again, because of Madam Headmistress’… night terrors...” She said quietly, trying not to look too concerned.
Minerva looked at her, still slightly bewildered at Felky’s presence—how could a night go by so very quickly, while also being almost unbearably endless?—and nodded.
“I see...” She replied, not knowing what else to say. Light showered her quarters. All windows were open, and breakfast, she noticed, waited right next to her on their—her—massive bed.
The headmistress noticed what appeared to be raspberry jam covering her toast.
“Is that raspberry?” Minerva asked weakly, gesturing towards her breakfast.
Felky nodded.
Minerva nodded again and sniffed. A lone tear rolled down her pale cheek. There was another very real memory that belonged in her past.
“Thank you, Felky.”