A.N: ARG! I lied, once again. I said that I wasn't going to write ANYTHING else to do with the whole Ice-Cold Roses series. Well....here's more. Only, this is written out of McGonagall's POV. Actually, you could read this without reading Ice-Cold Roses, but things might make a little more sense if you do. As always, I own nothing.

"It's all so unfair..." Minerva McGonagall said to the empty Transfigurations classroom. Classes had been cancelled for the day, in mourning of Hermione Granger. Hermione, a Gryffindor Prefect. The girl at the top of all of her classes. The girl who would have eventually been Head Girl. And now? She was dead, just like that. One clear thought seemed to echo continuously in Minerva's mind....

"Why her?"

"It should have been me." she muttered, shaking her head. Hermione had so much to live for. She was happy, she had several friends, she even had a budding romance with the youngest Weasley boy. What did Minerva have? A steady job and a secure life. A boring life. A loveless life. The only "friends" she had were some of her colleagues, more like acquaintances than friends. The only romance she had ever had....well, that was a long time ago....

"History does have a tendency to repeat itself." she thought absently. The more she dwelt on it, the more she began to realize that Hermione had been a replica of herself. Another Minerva McGonagall, only more popular, and happier. Always with her nose in a book, always at the top of her class....and then there was Ron. Hermione's feelings for Ron matched the sentiments that Minerva once had for his father, Arthur Weasley. Of course, things hadn't worked out; did anything ever really turn out right in life? She had become a teacher, he had married Molly and taken a job at the Ministry. There weren't even enough memories left of their short courtship to feed on.

Yet she had loved him, once. Not true love...that's something difficult for even open people to find, and Minerva had never been very open with her feelings. But she had loved him the way a teenage girl loves a boy. The way Hermione loved Ron.

"Why her?" The echo came again. A girl that had so much to live for had her life taken away from her far too soon. Minerva had nothing to live for. No friends, no family. The only reason she had never killed herself was because she was something of a Stoic: free from passion, unmoved by joy or grief, and submissive to natural law. Why take her own life? Pleasure and pain were all the same thing to her. At least, that's what she had tried to convince herself of all these years.

There was no reason to cry. Why should she feel? Why should she enjoy or despise her life, a life without any true meaning? No, she had no reason to cry.

But there she sat, tears streaming silently down her pale cheeks. She had allowed this one student's death to move her to tears, and, for once, made no move to stem her emotion. She cried for Hermione, but more than that......Minerva cried for everything she herself had never been, would never again have the chance to be.

"I would be better off dead." she stated blankly to the wall on the other side of the classroom. Without another word, she brushed the tears off her cheeks and left the room.

A/N: Oh, my. That wasn't very good at all. Well, I had a good idea, it just didn't turn out as I had planned. Fics do that to me sometimes.....