Wednesday
"I wouldn't like me if I met me."
Elphinstone got turned down. He made his mistakes, and he learned from them, sometimes making new errors after he'd approached these lifelong problems from different angles. In his early forties, he enjoyed a successful law career, yet he wished to settle down and build a life with someone.
Minerva McGonagall turned him down on a Wednesday evening for dinner at a quaint London restaurant, and Elphinstone found himself completely distracted him for the rest of the afternoon. When she stood outside of his office, tapping on the door frame like some quiet confident girl. Plain and tall, she caught his eye, and the conservative reverend's daughter proved a dangerous distraction.
"Never say such a thing. I like you." Minerva worked through her last day at the Ministry like she ploughed through after week; she would have reduced him to ashes if she'd come along a generation earlier. She stopped midweek. Wednesday was her Friday.
Elphinstone sat at his desk reading through drafts of the same contested will. A revised or a rewritten will replaced the others, of course, but Elphinstone needed to find where the family of the deceased went wrong. Minerva smiled at him, politely waiting for him to finish.
"Miss McGonagall."
"Mr. Urquart." She sat down when he waved at the chair. She leg shook, perhaps a nervous tick, but she stopped biting her lower lip when he mimicked her. "Do you always show your clients their flaws?"
"Sometimes." He unscrewed a bottle of ink.
Elphinstone smiled warmly, tapping the desk with his wand and conjuring bags of takeaway. He guessed she wore her confidence in different ways. He needed to drop at least twenty pounds, but he wasn't up to a fight. He often wore Muggle clothing while representing Muggleborns or their families. Law students made mistakes all the time, but she made very few and cleaned up her messes and learned from them.
"You've already got a foot out of the door," he said, opening takeaway boxes: steamed vegetables, a casserole dish, and honey butter dinner rolls. He found plates and silverware in a cupboard. Mineva frowned at him, prim and proper, raising her eyebrow. "I'm not going to tell you to stay when you hate it here, but you're like a light in a dark place. You ought to know.''
"Thank you."
"You're hungry. Dinner isn't a date." He tipped food onto a plate and served her first. Elphinstone left his door open and waved goodnight to a judge with his fork. "Ask me anything."
"Anything?" She weighed this as she ate a bit of cheesy potato.
"Anything," he said, spreading his hands.
Elphinstone reminded himself she was twenty, a girl. This term lost its connotation because feminists gained speed slowly with their movement. He quietly supported this. He knew things about her: reverend's daughter, two brothers, a quick tongue.
Elphinstone poured two shots with a generous hand. He watched her flick sightless and recover as quickly. He handed her a glass. Minerva studied him, her expression blank.
Minerva switched things up and crossed her legs. She, of course, meant little as a gesture, perhaps nothing at all, but Elphinstone noticed and wondered how far those legs went. They ate in silence. Elphinstone played out this one-sided argument in his mind. He lived for the law, especially since he slept alone and survived for billable hours.
"Are you married?" Minerva pointed to a photograph of a young man sitting on his desk. The young man, one who favored him in looks and behavior, was Elphinstone's reminder of a one night stand from eleven years ago. "Who is he?"
"Joshua Winslow Urquart, my son." Elphinstone flashed his hand, revealing he wore no ring. He chose not to wear jewelry. Technically, well, there was no technically about it in legal terms, Joshua was a bastard. "Best mistake I ever made. He's Deaf."
Elphinstone illustrated this in sign language, knowing perfectly well she didn't know anything about this. Elphinstone, too, knew nothing about the Deaf community until his son came along. Elphinstone picked the language up quickly.
"Never married, no, miss," he added, a little late, his appetite gone.
Minerva nodded and ate in silence. Elphinstone couldn't tell what she thought. He poured another drink. Elphinstone pored over his papers, a contested will breaking apart his dead father's estate. Elphinstone himself got chosen as executor because his father, a bastard by all accounts despite his pureblood lineage, asked the legal mind to handle the money.
"My father's last will and testament," he sighed, tossing it aside like it meant nothing.
She apologized, delivering her condolences perfectly. The young woman said nothing about saying prayers or whatever, a line he despised, and he quietly appreciated this. Elphinstone lived for probate court. This usually dissolved to nothing of consequence. Mr. Silas Urquart's life ended up in trusts, accounts at the bank, and the property he'd expressly said they could burn to the ground for all he cared.
"We wishes me to scatter his ashes in the Highlands."
Elphinstone found these next to the decanter, something he'd stolen from his father years ago. Elphinstone read the will through again, careful this time. His mother, also deceased, beat her husband to the grave. Elphinstone passed a hand over his tired face. After organizing his files, treating him like any other client.
He got heavily to his feet. Minerva stared at the drink, nursing it. Elphinstone poured her another one. He stayed ahead at three, and he rarely drank outside of the office. As he leaned in closer, she flushed, but then again he could've imagined this.
"Do you dance?" Elphinstone planned on following his father's wishes to the letter. He turned on the gramophone in the corner of his office. He listened to it after five or six o'clock, usually after the others left the Ministry.
"No."
"Would you like to?" A smile played on his lips.
She placed her hand in his, uncertain.
"I used to attend lessons downtown because I needed a social life, and my cousin said I pick up a hobby." Elphinstone fixed her stance, resting a hand on her stepped first and he chuckled, humming along with the classical music. "I lead."
She nodded, biting her lower lip. Minerva found her footing with her courage and let him count. "My father said I two left feet. You know this used to be considered scandalous?"
"No." He did not. Elphinstone found the office a poor excuse for a dance floor, but they managed to weave through it. He wasn't particularly religious, not really, yet he believed in the word of the law. He tipped her in a waltz pose for giggles. She laughed, surprised, warning him not to drop her. "No, miss."
Minerva spun into him, forgetting the music and knocking the air out of them. Elphinstone caught his breath, recovering and acting like he didn't dance with a stiff marionette. She loosened up after another drink. They danced again.
Elphinstone forgot about probate court. Elphinstone muttered in Gaelic, making her laugh when he slipped in archaic terms. Elphinstone buried his mother a month ago. His dead daddy kept company with the drink, and he debated shoving the deceased onto the back burner.
He leaned in, drawn in by her long eyelashes. She looked like a pretty Scottish girl. Minerva turned, and they simply stared.
"May I kiss you?" Elphinstone tucked a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear; her hair fell out of its usual perfect knot. He was her boss, her mentor, and this crossed a line even though she quit her job at five. She nodded.
They kissed. Elphinstone started slow, seeing this as nothing more than a goodbye. Elphinstone acted as the lawyer for lots of estates, and he ought to burn through the midnight taper for what he could consider as billable hours. He couldn't do this with his father's estate.
Minerva repeated her condolences. He dumbed down stuff involved in a will contest, although he sacrificed simplicity for stupidity, a wrong move, for she was a law student with two years under her belt. She glared at him, her beady eyes narrowed. He kissed her again, his eyes swimming with tears as childhood memories flooded back.
"You're a pretty girl." Elphinstone stepped back, reminding himself she was a girl. A girl. Minerva frowned, straightening when he turned his back to her. He took a moment to gather himself and stared out of the window. "You need to get far away from here because it'll drag you down. You'll be a good teacher."
She nodded. Minerva left. She came back, a little out of breath. Elphinstone sat back down, turning back to his father's papers. He shuffled the papers, seeing the will was written in his father's own hand. It covered three pages.
"I start on Monday," she said, breathless.
Elphinstone knew this already. He nodded, not sure where she went with this. If she needed a letter of recommendation, he'd tell Professor Dumbledore the Hogwarts staff received an early Christmas gift. Minerva stood straighter, bringing herself to her full height.
"There's a dessert at the the Leaky Cauldron." Minerva smiled when Elphinstone grabbed his emerald green traveling cloak, ready to get a breath of fresh air. Elphinstone locked his office and handed her the cloak. They walked towards the Atrium.