Haunted
.x.X.x.
~CrazyPlotQueen~
~I still see your shadows in my room
Can't take back the love that I gave you~
The feel of the rocky earth through Minerva's thin ballet flats was rather uncomfortable. Minerva had been walking on polished tile floors and fine hardwood all her life. Although she was used to wearing stiff dresses, she wished she had worn something looser and more comfortable. Of course, Minerva McGonagall hadn't known she'd be hiking today.
"Isn't it beautiful?" Dougal whispered for what seemed like the millionth time today, touching his hand to the base of an oak.
Minerva gave a tight-lipped smile in reply to her boyfriend, opting not to answer. The woods he had led her into after their dinner date were indeed hauntingly beautiful, but the mud that layered the ground — and now her thin flats — was not.
"Come on, this is the place I wanted to show you!" He gave her a cheeky grin, grabbing Minerva's hand. She almost slipped in a patch of mud, a second away from falling and becoming caked in it.
"Slow down! You're such a child!" she scolded, arms pinwheeling to regain balance. Dougal arched a brow, chuckling quietly, then promptly swept a gasping Minerva McGonagall off her feet and into his arms.
"Better?"
"Marginally," she gasped, wrapping her arms around her boyfriend's large frame, and glaring poutily into his bright eyes. He was handsome, that was for sure; Dougal had icy blue eyes framed by chiseled features, tousled blond hair, and a mischievous grin that made Minerva's heart flutter with adoration. Other boys seemed to think she had a heart of stone, but Dougal knew better. It was part of why Minerva liked him so much.
"What?"
Dougal's surprised cry snapped her out of her daydreams, and she looked around the area to find herself in a ploughed field. "Th-There was supposed to be a grove here! They plowed it?"
"I heard they were clearing some land for farming a few months ago...I suppose it was your grove," Minerva said quietly, noting how displeased her boyfriend looked. Dougal had told her tales of when his father took him to a secluded grove in their tiny town, watching the sunset with his son. From the way Dougal would talk about it, it sounded like heaven on earth. Though, knowing how excited he got at the most miniscule things, it could have been mediocre at best.
"Well, look, Minnie! We can still see the sunset from here!" He pointed up to the sky, some of his childlike wonder returning, along with that vibrant grin she so adored.
Minerva swiftly disengaged herself from his hold, her shoes splattering mud on the skirt of her dress as she gazed up at the sky. The Scottish country was renowned for its beautiful sunsets, but this was another level of gorgeous. The pink and orange light was melting together, turning the clouds a strange shade of gold that she couldn't look away from.
Until she heard Dougal clear his throat from behind her.
Minerva turned around, her eyes falling on a thin box, held by a kneeling Dougal, his pants caked in mud.
"I...wanted this to be memorable, so I suppose, mission accomplished." He chuckled nervously, tugging at the collar of his shirt. He snapped open the box in his hand. A thin, golden band speckled with glimmering diamonds rested in the center. For Minerva McGonagall's family, it was rather inadequate in price, but for a farmer like Dougal, it must have cost a fortune.
A lump grew in her throat. He was serious about them, then. Not just one of his silly, childlike pranks. He wanted this.
But did she?
"Minerva, I've rehearsed this a thousand times — no, a million times — over in my head. I don't know when I first realized I wanted you to be the one, but it must have been awhile ago — a million is a lot," he admitted, his pale eyes staring at the muddy ground in anxiousness. He cleared his throat, and continued. "I know your parents probably don't think I'm good enough. Maybe I-I'm not the right kind of folk that you deserve to have, and maybe you deserve to have better. But I wanted to give it a shot, because damn it, Minerva, I love you. This is the only thing I've ever really known I wanted. Maybe I don't have a big, fancy house or inheritance like those other guys your mom suggested, but I have love."
There was silence as Minerva felt pain shoot through her heart. He was serious, indeed. What would she say? Could she even come up with an answer? Could she even decline?
"So, enough of my rambling. Will you marry me?"
Those four words sent Minerva into a tizzy, her lips parting to let out her answer, but no sound came out. She was not an indecisive woman by any means; why was she now unable to make a choice?
And then it hit her, clear as day — she did love him. By all accounts, she should have refused or even ended the relationship by now. He was her polar opposite — poor and childish, but she loved him for that.
"Yes."
And a grin broke out onto his face a million times brighter than the golden sunset and the glittering diamonds.
.x.X.x.
"Minerva!"
Her mother's shrill yell yanked her out of her thoughts as the water — once warm, now freezing — cascaded down onto her. She knew her time sulking in the shower was up. Minerva ran her pruney fingers through her long, brown hair, and swiftly shut off the faucet.
She stepped onto the cool, polished hardwood floor of her expensive Victorian-styled home, then draped a fluffy robe around her figure. She opened the door to find her mother tapping her foot impatiently, thin lips twisted into a displeased scowl.
"Yes, mother?" Minerva answered tiredly, tightening the robe around her body for modesty and warmth — her home was freezing.
Isobel Ross held up a small parcel of letters, her scowl twisting into a faint smile. "You have a suitor? And you never told me?"
Minerva felt her heart sink; she had forgotten the letters on her desk. "You shouldn't have been going through my things—" she tried to say, but was interrupted by her mother's blunt statement.
"You shouldn't have been hiding it."
A tense silence between them ensued.
"So, who is this Dougal McGregor? I haven't heard of him, is he from another city?" Isobel pressed. Minerva could see her anger, even as it was carefully concealed. Her mother did not like that she had kept it a secret.
"More importantly, is he one of us?"
Minerva's gaze flicked downwards; her lover had no idea the world she belonged to even existed. She felt guilty about hiding such a large part of her away from him, but what could she do? She had to protect him. A part of her wondered if he would still love her if he knew what her words could do. Dougal always said she had a sharp tongue — if only he knew how dangerous it really was.
"He's a farmer who lives on the edge of town," she replied quietly, averting her gaze. She could feel her mother's wrath without any words.
Isobel raised her chin, her eyes flashing with an indecipherable emotion. "Like mother, like daughter, I suppose. Just remember what sacrifices have to be made if you marry a Muggle. Remember your new job at the Ministry of Magic."
Minerva's gaze did not rise again as she heard her mother place the parcel firmly in her hands and walk down the hall, the clicking of her pointed heels fading as she moved further away.
The tears began to fall now, her anger bubbling up. Why was her mother so right? Minerva had recently gotten a position at the Ministry due to her top scores on her N.E.W.T.s. She had worked so hard to achieve this, studied so hard at Hogwarts. Minerva had made her mother proud. If she wed a Muggle, she would have to lock her wand away in the cupboard as her mother had done with her father, and she would have to give up her Ministry position. Did she want that?
The tears came quicker now; she sobbed, storming into her bedroom and slamming the door shut.
No. She didn't want that.
.x.X.x.
Minerva stared blankly at the letter on the table. It had been sitting there for days now, untouched and unopened. She knew what it would contain, what it would do to her. Rubbing her temple, she picked up the silver letter opener from beside her, and sliced open the envelope.
Extracting the cream paper carefully, she forced herself to read the first sentence.
"My dearest Minerva..."
She looked away, squeezing her green eyes shut. Her gut roiled with emotion, knowing that her Dougal was still stuck on her. But she owed it to him to at least continue reading. Besides, she wasn't a weak person. She would not completely break down over some letter. Her mother had forwarded the letter to her; Dougal only knew where her home used to be, not where she had went. Minerva resented her mother for being so cruel. She should have just thrown the letters in the fireplace.
"Stop being a baby, Minerva. It's just a letter," she told herself, setting her jaw, and starting where she had left off.
"I know this is the sixth letter I've written in the past week. Maybe it's foolish of me to think you will respond, or even want to respond, but I know I have to try. I don't know if I made a mistake, or maybe this is some doing of you're parents..."
Minerva's eyes caught on the incorrect grammar usage. Dougal never really was a writer, though she chided herself for being so strict with the language. Out of all the things to pay attention to, grammar?
"But I need you to know one thing: you are the love of my life and the only woman I can be happy with..."
Minerva was getting frustrated with her emotions now. She had kept them in check, remained professional all her life and now she was losing her mind over a letter.
Her body reacted automatically: Destroy the threat, it said. She walked over to the fireplace, and hesitated for a moment as she held the paper over the fire, the flames reflected in her green eyes.
Finally, she let go.
.x.X.x.
"Minerva, you look absolutely stunning tonight."
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, biting her lip ever so slightly as the man sitting across from her began to reach for her hand. Thinking quickly, she grabbed the glass of water that sat in front of her and took a drink, avoiding his advances.
"Thank you. I try to look at least somewhat acceptable," she replied evenly, trying to conceal how uncomfortable she felt.
Minerva, now a matured woman, didn't know why she was still sitting at this table; although it would be rude to leave, she'd feel much more comfortable out of the resturant and back at Hogwarts.
Put simply, Minerva McGonagall did not like the man she was out on a date with.
She would not admit it out loud, but the only reason she had accepted his proposal to go out was because he resembled Dougal in some roundabout way. So this was how low her standards had gotten, Minerva realized. She was now looking for men who had the slightest hint of her former lover in them. Minerva searched for the tiniest spark of a childlike demeanor, the slightest resemblance in appearance in those who attempted to court her.
She knew she would only be happy with the real thing.
Minerva searched for Dougal in the shadows, kept hoping to find someone that filled the hole he left. But would she ever find someone quite like him?
Dougal and Minerva's relationship was an anomaly. It was special. There was no replicating what they had together; no cheap replacement could ever make her content.
Minerva met her date with a melancholy look. "I-I'm terribly sorry, but our date will have to end here. I'll pay," she said swiftly, and despite his protests, she snapped open her clutch and pulled out a bill. Minerva wasted no time escaping him, a heavy feeling hanging over her as she realized she would never truly be able to move on.
.x.X.x.
When Minerva's owl leapt onto her desk, letter in mouth, and she saw the familiar envelope and writing style on the front, a sense of dread overtook her. She hadn't received one of these in years — a decade, actually.
She was older now, much older than when she had last seen Dougal. Minerva was a teacher at Hogwarts now, and she was happy, but Dougal's ghost had not left her, even years later. He still haunted her in the shadows of her bedroom and in the twisting corridors of the castle. Sometimes the most miniscule thing would bring out the barest flicker of him. And now, this letter was bringing out a whole heap of him.
Finally tearing open the letter, after quite a bit of hesitation, Minerva wasn't sure what to expect.
"H-He...He's married...?"
Her ghost of a voice was practically inaudible as tears dotted her spectacles. Dougal was wed. He had gotten married. And he sent her a letter to tell her?
Minerva couldn't take it.
At first the tears were quiet, muffled by her hand as the letter tumbled from her hand and to the floor, but then she began to sob, her sobbing then turning into weeping.
Minerva was hiccuping by the time she heard the door to her classroom creak open. "Wh-Who is it?" She sobbed, scrubbing at her eyes to clear her vision.
Albus Dumbledore stood at the entrance, eyes wide in confusion. Minerva turned away, blubbering out apologies for her unprofessional behavior.
There was a tense silence, her sobs the only sound audible as Albus crossed the room, and enveloped her in a hug.
.x.X.x.
Word count: 2383
AN: there is a conscious grammar mistake in the third scene, an incorrect usage of 'you're'. Disregard for the sake of characterization and levity.
This premise of this story is completely canon, seen on pottermore. But the words and some of the events are my own.
Quidditch FanFiction League Championship:
Tutshill, Tornados
KEEPER: Minerva McGonagall
The Golden Snitch{Aurora, Vela}:
throughout the universe: Penumbra — (words) hidden in the shadows