Winter

A/N: Well, this just popped into my head…hope everyone likes it, and please tell me if you think I should continue, I dunno if this is good where it ends.

Warning: FEMMESLASH folks, don't like, I suggest you don't read…

Ms. Hermione Granger,

You kissed me in the summer of your seventh year of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the week before you were to graduate. I don't believe there had ever been a happier moment in my life. In your seven years at this school I had watched you grow in more ways than imaginable, learn more than the boundaries of knowledge had allowed, mature much more than just physically...and love…greater than I had ever felt before.

You had never laid a hand upon my skin, but your touch reached down to the depths of my soul, releasing feelings that I never thought I possessed. Yes, Ms. Granger, I had taught you the basics of magic, but you taught me a greater magic, one that I had never experienced before.

I was terribly elated, bitter sweetly happy when you received your diploma from this school. I damned myself for not having the heart to tell you how I felt, and yet, I rejoiced when I saw you walk up to shake the hand of the world's finest wizard, Albus Dumbledore. I guess I was proud of what you had done here, Hermione, who wouldn't be? I put on a smile when you departed the next day, decided that I couldn't see you upset just because I felt like a wretched old fool who didn't know who she was.

I cried like a heartbroken infant that night and a few days after, but only when I was with myself and my thoughts. Now, several years later, I find myself still weeping whenever I think of you. Especially now, in the winter, with time moving so slowly.

They say that everything perishes in the winter, no sign of vibrance, not even the smallest trace of life to be found. I say that with winter, everything is drug to within an inch of itself, the only thing left it has to hold on to; miserable, white, blankness engulfs everything now with only the smallest of hopes to begin with the promises of spring.

I cannot fight this battle any longer, my inch of life driven to bareness. There is no promise of spring and new beginnings of life to come for me, I dread.

You kissed me in the summer of your seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, as you left, Ms. Granger, I do believe you walked out with my heart, and now I have nothing to make it through the winter.

My heart is yours eternally, it seems,

Minerva M. McGonagall

A/N: Just a short little angsty drabble to release some inner emotions. I have the next part started, if anyone thinks I should continue…In other words, review or I probably won't believe anyone is interested…little blue button is dying to be itched…