Shattered

8 1 0
                                    

Welcome back! Just a quick shoutout to all of you who are following this story as I update. Your support means the world to me, thank you for continuing to read! I love writing and to know people like reading one of my stories is the greatest thing imaginable. Thank you and enjoy!

Shattered

Minerva took a good look at herself as she sat in front of the little vanity mirror that night. Her eyes traced the contours of her face, each line and crease making up the paragraphs of her story. Each one playing its part in making her the woman she was today. However, she couldn't help letting her mind wander back to a time when those paragraphs had been slightly fewer. She ran her fingers through the silver strands of hair emerging at the tip of her forehead and reminisced of a time when they had stayed deep brown. She had been dying her hair for some years now, but had considered stopping and letting it grow as it was. Her gaze drifted back to centre and she took note of the one feature that no matter how life altered her never changed. Although set in a face much changed by life her eyes still shone with what was within as bright as the day she was born. She had never taken much notice of such details before, but Minerva's focus on her appearance had increased tenfold in the last few months. She would be almost 46 when her child was born. Almost 57 when they would start their first year at Hogwarts. Almost 63 when they would graduate. Since they day she had found out she was pregnant the whispering doubts that she was "too old" had flowed in and out of her mind. They had consumed her on many occasions. She had spiraled wondering if she could manage it. Although always able to pull herself out of such thoughts in the end, it did not make them go away. It seemed as though her mind was never truly clear anymore. She sighed deeply as she rose and clicked off the lamp.

Only a few hours later she was stirred by rustling in the wardrobe at the other end of the room. She had become a light sleeper during her time as a professor. Many a night had she been woken to a student ill or injured as it was her duty to see them off to the hospital wing or back to their dorm bed. Her most sleepless nights tended to occur at the beginning of term by first years claiming a stomach ailment of some kind. Although it was usually found, after some gentle questioning, that the stomach pains were the pangs of home sickness. She found the novelty of life away from home tended to wear off around the second week for her 11 year old house members. So she would sit with them for a while, give them a cup of coco, and assure them that everything would be alright before sending them off to bed with a ginger biscuit. She turned the light on and as her eyes adjusted she saw Louise standing there with her jacket in her hand

"Oh Min, I'm sorry" she said as she finished hanging it up. "I should have slept on the couch, I didn't want to wake you"

"It's alright," she smiled as she sat up. "Good night?"

Minerva and Alice had gone down to the Phoenix to meet a few of Louise's friends after the family charades game.

"It was wonderful," the girl smiled "I'll tell you about it in the morning"

Christmas day was rung in with just as much warmth as the day before. Minerva sat with a box containing a beautiful yellow babygrow in her lap as the present opening circle continued around. Orla had hand made it for her and accompanied it with an equally beautiful leather journal inscribed with her initials on the cover from her and Malcolm. From Jane and Alice she had received an intricate wooden mobile and a new quill set. Louise had gifted her a tiny teddy and a gorgeous silver bracelet with a blue pendant.

Dinner was a joyous affair as well. An unmatched spread of delicious turkey, potatoes, vegetable, and a magnificent pudding had left them all in awe. They were going around them table pulling crackers as they heard a knock at the door which Malcolm rose to answer. Moments later he came striding back into the kitchen, his face ghostly white and slammed a letter onto the counter. The whole room stopped in its tracks. Looks of concern bounced around the table before Orla asked:

"What is it love?"

"John Murray's been killed," he choked, running a hand over his face as he stormed out the back door.

And just like that it all fell away. A chill ran through the room as shocked eyes met one another. A tear rolled down Orla's cheek as she brought a hand to her mouth. How stupid they had been to think war could not touch them there.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! As always, your reviews mean the world to me and thank you to those who leave them! Thank you for reading and I'll see you soon!

You've reached the end of published parts.

⏰ Last updated: May 17 ⏰

Add this story to your Library to get notified about new parts!

Left With More Than a MemoryWhere stories live. Discover now