Title: A Lingering Knowledge
Summary: Following Minerva's unfortunate attack, upon awaking, she does not recognize the bespectacled, white bearded man before her. What will Albus do to coax her memory back?
A/N: This fic may be called a stretch, seeing the first problem as I portray Albus and Minerva as the same age... The second thing is that I give you a piece of influential music at the beginning of each post. I thought all you fans out there would like to know that before you flame this because of the piece of music at the beginning. That lies only to let you become acquainted with the feel of the post, so with that in mind, read, review, and enjoy!
please forgive me
But I won't be home again
I know what you do to yourself
I breathe deep, and cry out
Isn't something missing?
Isn't someone missing me?
Even though I'm the sacrifice
You won't try for me not now
Though I'd die
to know you love me
I'm more alone
Isn't someone missing me?
The white garden gate that I so thoroughly detested swung eagerly in the mild breeze. I smiled to myself as the wind wept my hair around my face, giving me the feeling of vitality, a feeling that I had not felt for such a long time. My black tendrils of slight curls of hair swept about my face, and I beamed more broadly. The sunlight was what brought me the greatest joy at that time, though I would not mention this to anyone I knew. Children in the neighborhood often avoided me, for I was deemed 'odd', and 'unsightly', though my parents never said such. My mother was a wrought-iron woman, and hardly said a word worthy of speaking twice, but she did mention every now and again that I was beautiful in her eyes. I always thought this to be a motherly thing, for her words were never confirmed by anyone I knew, except for one.
A young boy around my own age was often found beyond that garden gate that I was forbidden to venture from, but who was I to ignore someone uttering my name with such sincerity, and such feeling? He often called to me in the early hours of the morning, which was the time we quickly found we both liked best. Dawn was my favorite part of the day, for it always signaled a new beginning of something. Perhaps this is why I later desired having to change into a cat, to further explore the realms of night that I always slept beneath in my younger years.
Oftentimes we would find ourselves in a tangle of trouble, for we were forbidden, you see, to speak to other children that were not of Wizarding ways. I knew he was, for he often exhibited his powers to me, more than likely to impress me, but at the same time, he always seemed to reassure me about the things he did. When winter came around, he somehow whipped up a blanket that was as soft as a cloud, and kept even my own teeth from chattering in the constant blow of the wind. I was never fully warm for I was rather lean for my age for the longest time. When others would complain, like my mother for example, about the heat that enshrouded the country of Britain, I always said it never felt warm outside to me. It always felt the perfect temperature, except in the winter. My mother always snapped back that I needed more meat on my bones, and that then perhaps I could experience the summer as everyone else did. I fervently decided then and there to never become as plump as my mother was, for it sounded terrible to suffer in the heat of the day.
Then, there was he again. He appeared at the most convenient times, as though he knew when I would be waiting for him to talk about how the world was, and how things at home went. I often had nothing to say new, but oh, that dear boy would take me away in a story that he had never told, and actually engage me in a very interesting conversation. He was Pureblood, and seemed quite oblivious to such a grand title in our world. I adored and admired him for that. I actually came from a family of both parents being Muggleborns, so that boy and I would often joke about what Blood status I had actually acquired from that. It was thought for a long time that I was not of magical abilities at all, for no matter what I did, the simplistic ways of magic that he was able to deliver seemed to be beyond me. This fact did not bother him in the slightest, and often reassured me that my powers would come when they were ready, because he informed me one lazy afternoon that he could sense the powers that I held.
"I know you have something Min," he muttered awkwardly one afternoon, as we both sat in the sunflower field that lay just beyond our homes.
"How can you be so sure?" I questioned, trying so hard to not cry in front of him. It was shameful that he could perform all of these acts, and I could do nothing, save watch.
His blue eyes shot a scrutinizing look at me, before he spoke again. "Aw, Min, don't cry," he muttered, his voice full of the tang of childhood. He dug through his pockets before extracting a nice and neat tartan-edged handkerchief, and handing it to me.
"Oh, thank you," I said gratefully as I wiped my tears away with one fluid motion, before returning it.
"Oh no Min, this handkerchief is for you," he responded as he put the handkerchief back into my hands, and closing them with his.
"Thank you," I replied helplessly again. "Perhaps if I had magic, I wouldn't weep so much," I thought bitterly to myself. I bestowed the handkerchief back into my pocket, not knowing that I would keep it for as long as I had.
"You're welcome Min. There's no need to cry over spilled potion, at least, that's what my mum always says," he said, his starlit, azure eyes peering apologetically at me.
I giggled, which brought a smile to his face. It was one that was all-too familiar, but I could not quite put my finger on exactly who was smiling.
"Oh, one other thing," I began as the moment of pure happiness passed.
I hesitated, unsure if I should tell him. Finally, all reason outweighed the possibility of his reaction being a bad one, and I proceeded to declare what had been irritating me for the past few weeks he had come up with this "pet-name" for me.
"Don't ever call me 'Min' again," I said simply.
He looked crestfallen, but smiled weakly up at me before saying, "Sorry Minerva." I would have probably picked out the wit in his words if it had not had been for those eyes of his. They drove me mad as to how in the World a piece of the sky could have become implanted in a pair of eyes, but somehow, his eyes were as blue as the sky above. Once his eyes graced mine with their beautiful color, I looked away, and began picking apart a blade of grass that had most likely had been ripped apart by insects.
"Here," he began as he scooted closer to me, and entwined a single sunflower in my hair. I smiled, enjoying the subtle brushing of his hand against my hair, as he oh so gently parted my hair before placing the flower behind my ear.
"There," he began triumphantly. "Now you're perfect Min, I mean, Minerva."
I smiled at him, not even trying to suppress the happiness that suddenly engulfed me at his touch. "Thank you A--"
That was all I had of that memory. Pieces of my life were now in fragments, and this one I was so sure that I loved that somehow started with an 'A', judging by the way I had sensed my lips moving on his name, was gone. I was forgetting the one piece that linked me to something grander than the entire world put together, and I knew it. Memory was bound to be lost; at least, that is what all the Healers had informed me. I seemed to remember everything, but a piece of me was missing, and I was so frantic in finding it, that I had torn my whole room apart the day I first awoke, to find a piece that would coax me to remember. The pain of knowing that something was missing was great, and I fully intended to do something about it, once I remembered how to get back to my room and take a nap that is.