Matters Of Heart
by Donna Vito fruttie
Quidditch League Fanfic Challenge
Team- Wimbourne Wasps
Position - Beater 1
Adjective - Agonising
A/N - Enjoy
A/N - Review
MATTERS OF HEART
Agonising. Her heart was breaking and it was agonising.
Minerva McGonagall was a tough woman. Or so she prided herself on being. She thought herself above petty emotions and silliness. She had served in the ministry for a few years and was offered a big promotion, but had turned it down in favour of teaching at Hogwarts. Everyone, there, knew her penchant for fairness. And toughness. And yet, that evening, she was sitting alone in her classroom, her eyes teary and a letter clutched in her hand.
The letter was somewhat crushed. Her mother had written to her and told her about the goings on in their village. And quite casually, because she didn't know Dougal like Minerva did, she had mentioned the wedding. And it had hurt, like a physical pain.
...the handsome young man... a farmer's daughter... her family and his have always been friends...their wedding will take place next week...
Minerva always kept a small photograph on her bedside table. Still, and unmoving. It was a muggle photograph. And the man in it was handsome, and smiling.
Dougal McGregor. The man she loved. The man she left. And now, the man she lost.
And quite faintly, she remembered another letter, this time written by Dougal himself. He had asked her to come to the local church, their meeting point, one last time.
If you'll find it in your heart to forgive me for whatever wrong I did you, I hope you'll be there...I want to see you one last time... And if you choose not to come, I want you to know that I'll never stop loving you...
As someone who aspired to join the Ministry and rise to a respectable position, Minerva knew that revealing the truth about her and the Magical world would have cost her, her ambitions. However, she could not lie to Dougal, either. And in the end, she had chosen the Ministry.
If only she had gone to meet him...if only she had confessed her true feelings to him that day...if only she hadn't accepted her position in the Ministry...if only
Her hands shook slightly and Minerva let out an involuntary sob.
"Minerva?"
Startled, Minerva looked around. Albus Dumbledore had entered the classroom. She quickly dabbed at her eyes as his footsteps came nearer. "Professor Dumbledore," she said, her voice composed. "I'm sorry you had to find me in such a state."
"You may call me Albus, Minerva; we have been colleagues for some time now. And it's quite alright," Dumbledore smiled at her. "Why, just yesterday I found myself in a similar state. Apparently, somebody thought it funny to send me a mismatched pair of socks."
Minerva gave a small laugh. Dumbledore seated himself on a desk beside her. "Is it something you would like to talk about?" He asked her. His voice was gentle, only a little probing.
"I'm not sure," Minerva said.
"Alright."
Dumbledore took out his wand and gave it a wave. A bottle of mead and two glasses appeared, seemingly out if nowhere. He guided it so that it was suspended over the ground, just between him and Minerva. He gave another wave and the bottle opened itself, tipped, and poured honey-coloured liquid into both the glasses. Once they were full, one of the glasses flew to his hand. He took a sip out of it.
"It is pretty good, you know."
Minerva reached out so that the other glass was in her hand. Minerva sipped from it as Dumbledore hummed a tune to himself. Moments passed by and Dumbledore waited patiently.
"My mother gave up magic for love," Minerva finally stated. Dumbledore immediately looked up, giving her his full attention. "I saw how miserable she eventually became," she said. "I gave up love for magic. Now, I'm miserable too."
"I quite understand," Dumbledore said. "Who was it, may I ask?"
"Dougal McGregor. He's getting married next week." she said.
"He must have been a fine young man to have caused you such heart break."
Minerva smiled. "He was."
"Isn't love grand?" Dumbledore said.
They sat in silence for some time. And then Dumbledore spoke again. "You have been brave, Minerva." he said. "Only a few could have chosen mind over matters of heart, and fewer still would have."
Minerva snorted. "What does it matter? My heart still aches for him. And I'm not very sure of my choices at the moment."
Dumbledore didn't reply. Instead, he raised his wand and wordlessly cast a spell in the direction of the fireplace. Moments later, it was lit with a quite, blue fire. He turned back to her.
"My life is full of regrets, Minerva. I have made a lot of wrong choices, lot of wrong calls. There are times, when I look at our students with envy and feel that every one of them is a better man than I." He seemed to be in deep thought. Divulging personal information is not something he often did.
"That's not true. You're a great man, Albus." Minerva interrupted his thoughts. Dumbledore nodded.
"Ah yes, but am I a good one?" he replied. "That is the question, isn't?
"Bravery doesn't always mean the absence of weakness; it simply means postponing your moment of weakness so that it doesn't affect your good judgment."
Dumbledore peered up at Minerva from his spectacles. "And your good judgment seems to be perfectly intact."
"Thank you, Prof-Albus," Minerva said, smiling, now.
"You have done very well for yourself, I should say. Why did you ever leave the Ministry?"
"The Ministry at the time was not to my liking," Minerva said. "It was so thick with bigotry and prejudice that it was positively dripping with pureblood mania. A half-blood, it would seem, was only a level above house-elves. "
"Amelia reckons I should have taken over the Ministry. 'By force or farce', she says."
Minerva grinned. "That does sound like her. Though, I must say, having been a part of Magical Law Enforcement has certainly calmed her a great deal."
"Ah,yes." Dumbledore hummed a small tune.
"You know I used to be quite ambitious, myself, when I was a young man," he siad, eventually. Minerva had heard only the rumours regarding Dumbledore's shady past, and had chosen not to believe any of them. For her, he was the very epitome of all that was good and pure. And she was not the only one. It was the entire wizarding Britain.
"When I was eighteen, I wanted to see the world," he continued. "Every part of it. Of course, by then, it was just me, my brother, Aberforth and my sister, Ariana. As the oldest sibling, the responsibility of taking care of my family fell on me.
"So naturally, I had to call off my plans. But I regretted it. I regretted the burden of having to look after my brother and my sister. Regretted not being free to choose my own path.
"I hung out with my friends, trying to ease that burden. Then days went by until one day, there occurred a tragedy. My sister, who was always in poor health, passed away, very suddenly, " he said. "And then I started to regret not having been there more often, for her, for my family."
Minerva knew, atleast by now, the pain of loss. "Albus, I am so sorry." Dumbledore nodded, again, accepting her condolence.
"How did you cope? And your brother?" she asked.
"Aberforth blamed me for it." Dumbledore closed his eyes, as though, trying to drown out the memory of the incident. "He said it was my fault, that I never had any time for our sister. Quite frankly, I think he is right. He, often, is."
"It was not your fault, Albus," Minerva said, softly. "There are some things that everyone wishes could have gone differently," she continued, "But, surely, you are not responsible for the inevitable.
"Professor, you once told me that I was a gifted witch, that I was the best student you have ever had," Minerva said, again, firmly. "But I had only learnt from the best. You were a great teacher. Yes, you taught well, of course, but more importantly, you inspired well. You are the best teacher Hogwarts has ever had. Will ever have, unless I am thoroughly mistaken," she corrected herself. "It is the only detail about you that truly matters, isn't it? "
Dumbledore looked greatly moved.
"Minerva, I-" He cleared his throat. "Yes. it is the only detail that matters about any of us."
And now he looked teary, himself, making Minerva feel a little uncomfortable. They were both quiet now. But it was a nice kind of quiet. Solace. And Comfort. They sat in relative silence for some more time. And after a while, Dumbledore looked at his watch.
"I'm afraid I have to leave now, Minerva. It's getting late and I have a few Ministry related matters to look into," he said. "They want to offer me the position of Minister, it would seem. What a tedious job that would be! And the pay! Why, it is horrendous!"
"You would make a good Minister, Albus," Minerva said, quietly.
"Ah, yes, perhaps," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. "But then, again, so would you, Minerva." He peered over his glasses again; he seemed to do that a lot, lately. Old age, Minerva supposed. "And here, we both are, at Hogwarts, where we are truly needed," he said. "Good night, Minerva. Have a restful sleep."
"Good night, Albus."
So saying, Dumbledore left her. And Minerva was once again, alone in her class. But the conversation with her favourite professor had left her heart considerably lighter. And as she read the letter again, Minerva felt it hurt a little less, and memories of Dougal, though heartbreaking, was somehow bearable, somewhat less agonising.
A/N -
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Dougal McGregor was a muggle, son of a farmer. Minerva's mother, Isobel was a witch who gave up magic to marry Minerva's father, Robert, a muggle minister. They had two more children, sons. Minerva and her brothers were all magical. After Minerva's birth, Isobel revealed hers and her daughter's magic to her husband. Though, a shocking revelation, they stayed together (for the remainder of their lives?)
Minerva fell in love with a muggle, too, but chose magic over love, seeing how miserable her mother was, without magic. And also, because, revealing the secrets about the Wizarding World would have negatively impacted her job and future aspirations at the Ministry. However, that seemed to be a wasteful reason, as she left Ministry a couple of years after she had joined.
Yes, this is pretty much CANON.
Mcgonagall cries. Dumbledore comforts . They both share certain details about their lives.
They develop a mutual trust that lasts until Dumbledore's death. They become very close.
Platonically, of course.
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