Dougal has never believed in love at first sight. The concept has always seemed so silly to him. How can you see someone and just know that you want to dedicate your life to them? Is it based on vanity? Someone is so beautiful that you don't care if they are a terrible person because at least you will have beautiful children?

He's always tried not to laugh whenever he hears the old line at the pub. It was love at first sight, I tell you. I saw her there, and I just knew.

It's illogical. He may be a farmer's son, little more than a field worker, but he likes reason. An important life decision can't be made based on one little glance.

…

His way of thinking changes the moment he sees her.

He rarely looks up when he works. Looking up is a distraction, and his father has always emphasized the importance of hard work. The fields have no room for distractions.

But he pauses when sweat beads around his eyes and looks up, wiping away the salty liquid. That moment changes his life.

A girl passes by the field, and for a moment, Dougal forgets his own name, what he's doing, and everything else that had once been important.

She is beautiful of course. Slender, dark hair flowing past her shoulders, straight as a pin. But even from where he stands, he can tell that there is something more to her than a pretty face. There's wisdom in her expression, and something about her just tells him that she is special.

"Who's that?" he asks Nathaniel, his father's summer farm hand.

Nathaniel pauses his work and looks up. "That's the McGonagall girl," he answers with a grin. "Minette? Mallory? Something like that."

He watches as she passes, and he feels the urge to run up to her, talk to her, ask her out for a drink.

But he has work to do. Such thoughts have no place in the fields.

"McGonagall," he whispers, and he thinks that McGregor would suit her better.

…

"Do you know the McGonagall family?"

His father nods. "I see Robert Sr. in town," he says. "Nice chap."

"He has a daughter."

"Minerva," his father confirms. "Lovely girl. Must be a smart one. I hear she attended a private school somewhere."

Dougal smiles to himself. So he was right. Beautiful and intelligent.

"I know that look," his father teases. "You're smitten, aren't you?"

"I've only seen her once. Don't be silly."

"One look can change everything. Ask your mum. It was love at first sight when I saw her, Dougal."

And he doesn't believe in love at first sight. At least he didn't before. Now, he isn't so sure.

…

"Would you like an apple?"

The girl jumps, startled. She looks around, confusion written over her pretty face, until her eyes finally find him in the tree. Dougal leaps down, grateful that he doesn't stumble upon landing. He lifts an apple up to her, offering her a smile.

"Thank you," she says, accepting it.

"Best apples in town," he assures her. "Carrots, too. And beans. And- Sorry, I'm rambling."

She laughs, but it isn't a cruel laugh. It's soft and lovely, like maybe she really finds him funny. She takes a bite. "I don't think I've ever tasted anything sweeter," she agrees.

"I'm Dougal McGregor."

"Minerva McGonagall."

"Pretty name. Roman goddess of wisdom," he says.

"Not many people seem to catch that."

"Well, I'm not many people."

A small smile plays at her lips, and Dougal has to remind himself to breathe. "Thanks for the apple," she says. "I'd better get going."

She starts to walk away, but pauses after several steps. Minerva turns, catching his gaze. A warm rose tints her cheeks, and she turns again, hurrying off.

…

"Thought you might like this."

Dougal jerks up at the sound of a woman's voice, surprised. Only his mother has ever visited him out on the fields. And yet there's Minerva, a small jug of water in her hands. He accepts it gratefully, drinking heavily. "Thank you," he says. "So, you came back."

"I came back," she confirms with a grin. "I wanted to know if you'd like to join me for a picnic tonight."

It takes everything not to sputter like a fool. He's never met a girl who is so bold. He thinks that he likes it. "A picnic," he echoes, nodding. "I think I'd like that."

"The lake," she says, gesturing to the north. "You know the one?"

"Seven o'clock sound good? I should be done before then."

"Seven sounds delightful."

…

"Wine?"

"The best we've got. I- It's for- I need it for-"

"Minerva," his father guesses with a chuckle. "Take the strawberry one. Believe me. Strawberry wine will make her fall in love with you."

Dougal doesn't quite believe that. Then again, he's now experienced love at first sight. So what does he know about what makes a person fall in love?

He nods and begins collecting what he needs. Strawberry wine, carefully crafted by his mother. Fresh fruit harvested from the fields. Cheese his neighbors have made that taste better than anything found in the city. He hopes that it will be enough to impress her.

…

Minerva sits on a blanket by the lake when he arrives, candles lending a soft glow of light. Dougal pauses, unable to pull his eyes away from her.

"Are you going to join me or just stare?" she teases softly, a grin on her lips.

There's that boldness again. He wonders where she's learned it from. He's never met a woman who just says whatever she's thinking. It's different, maybe a little intimidating, but nice.

"I think I'll join you," he decides with a laugh, sitting across from her and sliding his bag off his shoulder. "I brought a few things."

He adds his cheese, fruit, and wine to the collection of sandwiches and water.

"You're staring again."

"I'm sorry. You're just so beautiful," he whispers.

"I don't mind," she assures him, reaching out and taking his hand.

"Good. Because I think I'd like to stare at you forever."

Minerva smiles, a warm blush on her cheeks as she drops his hand. "That might be okay."

…

He's drunk on love and wine when he returns home. He wonders if every man feels like this. He wonders if the world always like it's spinning too fast, like his heart is a wild creature, like there is nothing but sunshine and beauty in life.

"I take it things went well," his father says when Dougal throws himself into an armchair with wide grin.

"We're going to the cinema next Sunday," he sighs happily. "And for a swim on Friday. And another picnic Wednesday."

"It was the wine. Quickest way to fall in love, son. Believe me."