Summary: When you're young, rose briars hold more appeal. But still the holly holds its own allure.
Warnings: Character deaths
Author's Notes: Much love, appreciation to my beta. MM. Many thanks to Kelly for permitting me extension upon extension. Also my vision of Elphinstone is based on Sylvester McCoy – 7th Doctor Era – in particular Ghost Light. I also took Pottermore and changed a bit to my liking. A/U
"Love and Friendship" By Emily Brontë
Love is like the wild rose-briar, Friendship like the holly-tree - The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms
But which will bloom most constantly?
The wild rose-briar is sweet in spring, Its summer blossoms scent the air;
Yet wait till winter comes again And who will call the wild-briar fair?
Then scorn the silly rose-wreath now And deck thee with the holly's sheen,
That when December blights thy brow He still may leave thy garland green.
"Professor McGonagall," Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice was calm and serene as though he hadn't just successfully overthrown a magical despot.
"Yes, Minister Shacklebolt?" She retorted as well, two could play that game. Let there be titles galore, she needed to focus on Hogwarts and its students.
"I'm wondering if you might have time to speak to someone?" Kingsley asked.
"Now?" She asked. Her tone was brittle, but really, there were dead and dying everywhere.
"I wouldn't have asked but he doesn't have much time. He's specifically requesting you. It's a rather odd request, to be honest," Kingsley asked. "I'm quite perplexed why he is asking for you, truth be told."
"A final request?" Minerva asked as she began to move in Kingsley's direction.
"Yes," he said.
"Very well then, lay on MacDuff," Minerva said.
She was hoping against hope that it wasn't one of her students. Not another young, bright light snuffed out before it could explore all the wonderful possibilities that life had to offer. Another generation lost, and let this be the last lost to egomania and darkness, she prayed to any God or Goddess or Supreme Being that might be listening. Her father, Robert, would be horrified that she was praying to any deity that might have an ear turned earthward, but she hoped he'd never know.
To her deep surprise, she knew the Death Eater who was lying half-covered by a bloody sheet. He slightly roused when she kneeled next to him. His blue eyes focused on her and he quirked a slight smile at her. His dimples… his dimples… how could she be thinking of his dimples at a time like this…brought back old memories that she thought she had successfully buried.
"Always told me I'd come to a bad end," he whispered. His color was piss poor and his voice a weak imitation of his normal timbre.
"You never listened to me, Cináed," she reminded him. Instinctively, her hand reached and found his.
"I should have heeded you as you have always been a very smart lass. But I told you that you could be great. Min..." He gasped and then continued, "Look at you, having defeating the Dark Lord… I'd like to think… I helped... Maybe I won't end up burning in hellfire…. I did give you those Defense books… recognized a few spells that you threw at us… nobody else did… but I did…so damn proud of you. I did help you out,… during the battle…. I hope you know as you looked like you might need help. However, last request for old times' sake. Will you?"
"Yes, Kenny, I will, for old times' sake," she agreed. His use of the diminutive had her responding in kind. A memory of a pitched battle, unforeseen assistance from a shadowy figure came to the forefront of her mind. "Was that you with Mulciber?"
He smiled.
"Swear on your father's God," he requested. "Charon's here, I've got the fare, but I can't go until… I make sure things are done proper."
"I so swear," she said.
"Go to Anna, tell her…" Cináed inhaled sharply and then gasped. "Tell my Nandag that I did love her. Promise me, Min. Tell her my last thoughts were of her. Only of her."
"Kenny," Minerva protested. "You want me to talk to your wife?"
"You swore…" he reminded her. "On your God. You are Robert's daughter; it's a vow you won't break."
"I will," she said.
"She knew," Cináed whispered. "She always knew…that's why you have to be the one…to give her my message, so she knows…"
"Good God, Kenny," protested Minerva. "Did you tell her about us?"
"I never told her, but she knew about us. She thought you made me a better man, a better husband. Give Anna my ring," he stopped talking for a moment, and then began coughing up bright, red blood. "Tell her to cremate my body. Ashes…half …. Half, I want … Bàgh Shanabhait … you know where…. Only place I was ever me … rest… buried …. With her…She was the best… of me…"
A long pause and then he smiled, "Fancied you… from the first day I saw you…knew you were too good for… likes of me…" Then his smile widened in true delight, "Cal…Finn … ice cream? "
His mouth moved and then his blue eyes focused elsewhere and stared into nothingness.
"Kenny," she whispered, before she reach down and place a kiss on his forehead. She sat next to his body for a few minutes, willing herself not to cry. Their relationship, such as it was, had been long over. Yet, there had always been a small part of her heart that had always been his; even with her marriage to Elphinstone. There had always been a small part of her soul that had prayed that Cináed Yaxley was not beyond redemption.
"My bonnie, bonnie boy, you want me to go to your wife and tell you that you died," she whispered. "How do I face her knowing that she knows about us?"
It was then that Minerva realized that Kingsley Shacklebolt was staring at her with a look of utter confusion.
-8-8-8-
Summer 1954
Robert McGonagall, Junior caught his sister's eye and motioned for her and Malcolm to go outside.
"They're not doing well," he said.
"I noticed," Minerva said. The emotional tension between Robert and Isobel McGonagall was so thick that Minerva could have cut it with a knife. While Minerva hoped there was another reason for the tension, besides the fact that the Robert, the Muggle Minister was having difficulties dealing with his magical children, their return home and what they represented, a lie of omission by Isobel, she knew the truth of it.
"Think it's because the three of us are home. All the devil children," Malcolm said.
"Faither doesn't think that of us," Minerva protested. If she was still at school, she would have stung Malcolm with the Stinging Hex to end all Stinging Hexes, but that would break the first rule of McGonagall Treaty. Thou Shall Not Use Magic In Thy Father's House.
However Robbie handled it in his pragmatic fashion, by clouting Malcolm on the backside of his head. Malcolm was no longer the jovial wit he thought he was, as his head was ringing like a church bell.
"I'm seeing stars, Robbie!" protested Malcolm.
"I owled Granny Ross," Robbie inserted after he had intervened between Malcolm and Minerva. "She's offered to take us for the summer, to Sandwood Bay Beach."
"Bàgh Shanabhait?" Minerva asked.
"Yes," Robert said. "I suggested that since this will be the last summer the three of us McGonagalls weans will be together as you start your new job in London in the September, she might wish to have us for the summer. Minerva, I'll miss Da, but you know it would be easier for him."
-8-8-8-
Bàgh Shanabhait, Summer 1954
The assorted Ross cousins were delighted to see them, so it took away the sting of her father's obvious relief that they'd be gone for the summer. It didn't mean that Minerva didn't hug her father tightly and hang on to him for far too long when they said goodbye. They loved each other, but it didn't mean that their relationship was easy.
"God has given you a marvelous and terrifying gift, Minerva. Like any gift the Lord bequeaths, use it as He would, to defend the weak and uphold the downtrodden. To do otherwise is an unforgivable sin."
And she had lied to her father, claiming heartbreak over Dougal McGregor, as her desire to escape from the confines of Caithness, Scotland and to retreat to Bàgh Shanabhait. Dougal was a lad in the village, who had never looked twice at her, but Robert didn't know. Instead he had told her that love was hard, and he was sad for her heartbreak.
She was on the cusp of adulthood, pondering what road to take. But Minerva McGonagall swore to herself that she wouldn't be like her mother, who had given up everything, EVERYTHING, including what made her unique and special to live in a relationship with a man who couldn't understand, not truly, what her mother had sacrificed for him. It wasn't that she didn't love her parents, she loved them both, but Minerva McGonagall wanted life on her own terms, not beholden to any man's nay or yay to make her own path.
Bàgh Shanabhait was a pristine beach, far enough from the Muggles roads that only the most industrious Muggle would dare trod here. Adding a slight Repulsion spell ensured that only the magical folks enjoyed the beach.
Granny Ross was a rather prim and proper dowager of the 18th century who was quite strict when it came to modesty. Her obsession with propriety meant that she had already purchased swimming cossies for Minerva. They were perfectly respectful, black, knee-length, puffed-sleeve wool dresses, featuring a sailor collar, and worn over matching bloomers trimmed with ribbons and bows. They were accessorized with long black stockings, lace-up bathing slippers, and fancy caps. Really, the cap had to go. Minerva decided she would ditch it as soon as possible. And the stockings. God help her, God forgive her for taking the Lord's name in vain, but dear God, she knew what the Muggle wore. And it was nothing like this.
"We have standards," Granny Ross informed her. "You don't want to be like that. Oh, Minerva, please, I beg you not to look!"
Naturally, Minerva had looked and she caught quite the gander. There was a young man, wearing a bathing suit. It was a two piece, striped and quite scandalous for Granny Ross, as apparently she thought it displayed too much of him. The man had been out in the sun for quite some time as his long hair was nearly bleached white and he was quite brown. The man turned around, saw them and then began jogging over to them.
"He's bounding like a gazelle," Granny Ross disapproved.
Bounding, well not so much, he was bouncing. Well, yes, while Minerva was not supposed to be aware of such things, he was bouncing rather nicely, but it wasn't proper to stare at a man's bits. So she looked upwards and realized…it was no man, it was a boy, barely out of Hogwarts. It was Cináed Yaxley, the bane of her existence. He had been Head Boy to her Head Girl; and the source of much jealousy on the behalf of her assorted beaus.
For the life of her, Minerva had no idea why. Yaxley was short, caustic, and Pure Blooded. All of which she was not, fortunately. Oh and he was Slytherin, also. Which again, she thanked the Great God Above every single day in her prayers that she had not been placed in that House.
Plus he had a smooth political edge to him that she lacked. When the two of them had been made Hogwartian ambassadors to the various foreign educators that visited the castle, she had been completely out of her depth. Not so for the Slytherin, he had been able to chinwag with the various dignitaries and he had even prevented her from making the serious faux pas of using the wrong fork for her shellfish. He had managed a glib conversation with the Beauxbatons dueling master regarding various arcane dueling differences between the English and the French and he had noticed her unhappiness.
"Good Lord, don't you read anything besides Qudditch results?" He had snidely commented while she had pointedly ignored him. Some people didn't deserve a response and Cináed Yaxley fell into that category.
"Mrs. Ross," he greeted her. "Miss McGonagall."
"Mr. Yaxley," her grandmother intoned. Really, Minerva wanted to remember how her grandmother spoke in such a way to adequately express her disgust at his scandalous behavior.
"Cináed," Minerva greeted. "I thought you would be on your world tour now."
"Had to cancel the world tour. Family came down with Dragon Pox and Da's quite ill. Thought it best if I was in a known location rather than gallivanting around the world. So I'm here for the summer, possibly longer."
"Are you on your own?" Granny Ross asked.
"Yes, Mrs. Ross, I am," he admitted. "All the House Elves have been exposed so I am here alone."
"Well, you must stop by for dinner one night. I'll let everyone know that you're here on your own and we'll ensure that you get fed."
"That would be quite kind, Mrs. Ross. But I must be permitted to reciprocate for the meal. I make a very good baked brown trout."
"Trout?" Minerva's granny repeated.
"There's a loch over yonder. Full of trout. I spend the afternoon fishing; throw most of them back as a man can eat only so much trout before he develops gills and starts looking for Selkies."
"Selkies?"
"My Uncle Calum claimed he saw a Kelpie in the loch, plus several Selkies," Cináed continued. "I spend hours there hoping to catch a gander."
By now, Granny was close to having an attack of the vapors.
"Find out his schedule, dear. I feel unwell and need to return to our cottage," Granny ordered.
"Would you like me to escort you, Mrs. Ross?" Yaxley asked. His voice was dripping in sincerity.
"Please, no," Granny said as she fled.
Yaxley watched her Granny escape and then he looked at her, "Was it the trout? Or the Kelpies? Or was it the swimming cossie? She caught me swimming in the all together, so she reported me to my step-mum. Got such a Howler, I never knew she knew such language."
"You swam in the all together?"
"Yes, I much prefer it to this, and what you're wearing. Though you look quite fetching in that cap," he informed her.
"Sod off, Yaxley," she snapped. The bastard just laughed.
"Looking at my schedule, I'm available tonight, tomorrow, the day after. Pretty much anytime in the next six weeks. Just tell me when to show up. I'm hoping it sooner rather than later, as I may get tired of trout."
"You will be clothed, I hope," Minerva snapped again. Really, there was something about Yaxley that got under her skin.
Yaxley bobbed his head and gave her a crooked smile. "I have been coming here every summer since I was a wee little boy. Since I don't ever remember you being here before I'm assuming that you don't know the area. Shall I show you around?"
"Fancy a fag?" He asked her as they began walking on the barely seen road. He offered her the pack of cigarettes, but then he pulled them away from her even as she reached for it. "Oh, I forgot. You're a Minister Bairn, you don't smoke, drink or have sex."
"You're wrong," she said, as she grabbed the cigarettes from him and lit one in a quick, expert motion. Then with a bravo that would have alarmed all that knew her, besides scandalizing her father, she added, "On all three points."
He arched an aristocratic eyebrow at her, so she guessed that he was impressed.
"Be careful about where you put your ashes. There's a great deal of rare fauna here. I may send some to Beery for his review. I may not, I'd hate for this place to get overrun by researchers," Yaxley informed her.
He stepped forward at a fast pace and then stopped once he realized that Minerva was staring at him.
"Oh, I'm sorry, a Slytherin can't be interested in Herbology? If I had my way, I'd stay here and let the world go to hell," he informed her. "Father has other plans for me."
"Which are?"
Yaxley said not a word; instead he picked up the pace and began walking away from her. She did a quick skipping run until she reached up to him and they walked in silence. Finally, they reached the loch and he picked up a stone. With an easy grace, he threw it so it skipped across the loch.
"Completely his plans without any input from me. My marriage has already been arranged. My fiancée is all of three," he stated. "Or perhaps two. She screamed in terror when she met me so the marriage is off to a good start. Don't you agree? I had hoped that I could possibly escape but Father decided to have Dragon Pox. Since he's older, and I'm the token heir, I have to stay in Scotland. Don't want the third cousins getting the estate."
She said not a word.
"I wanted to go to Greece and see the Telkhines, see the pyramids. Instead I'm betrothed to a two year old while my family scratches themselves. However, at least I can fish in peace. My uncle took me fishing all the time," explained Yaxley. With a practice ease, he knotted his hair into a braid and then abruptly he was dressed in gear appropriate to trout fishing. "Do you fish?"
From his tone, it seemed that Cináed doubted that she had the inclination to fish.
"Yes," she dryly retorted. "I can even put my own bait on, thank you for volunteering."
She transfigured her swimming cossie, changing the cap into something more fashionable to wear and stepped into the water. Just to check out the currents and the depths, like her father had taught her. It took her a bit of time to determine the water conditions and when she stepped out of the lake, Cináed was holding out a rod to her.
"Try it," he suggested. "It's a proper rod, not bespelled as you need skill to fish."
"Do you need dinner tonight?" she asked.
"No. You can throw it back after you catch it. I try not to take more than I can eat."
After you catch it, not if, she noticed.
"Very well then."
They didn't speak for a while, instead enjoying the companionable silence of the rod and the reel. Cináed caught a few impressive sized trout but he released them. She wasn't so lucky, until she caught the big monster that rested near the rocks. To her surprise, Cináed was in the water next to her, grinning like a fool.
"You've got Old Tom," he told her. "Bloody monster. My uncle caught him once, but old Tom snapped the line. After you reel him in, let him go. He's earned it."
It took some time but at last, she was pulling the trout of the loch. It was an impressively large trout, easily over twenty kilos. Her father would have been delighted to witness her catch!
"Careful now," Yaxley instructed her. "I'll remove the hook and we'll let him go."
"Nice catch," Yaxley offered. To her surprise, Minerva knew that she was blushing. "What are you doing tomorrow? Are you having tea with your granny?"
She rolled her eyes at him.
"The Kelpies had pups. Would you like to see them?" he offered. "We won't be close enough for them to drown us, but you can still see them."
"I'd like that."
-8-8-8-
Really, if she didn't know Slytherins as a whole, and Cináed Yaxley in particular, she would have guessed that Cináed was taking her to some out of the way place to take advantage of her. It was a ridiculous thought as she was a Half-Blood and a Gryffindor to boot. The platinum blond took her further up the coast and into a forest so thick she doubted that there was a real path.
She was about to give him the rough side of her tongue, when he stopped. He put one finger on her lips and leaned towards her, "Don't make a sound. We'll almost there. We'll lie down and overlook the loch. The pups should be sunning themselves soon."
He motioned for her to follow him and, like a fool, she did. The path opened slightly to an overhang where she could view a pristine loch. Her guide crept to the overhang and then put a blanket on the ground before he lay upon it. He motioned for her to join him, and she did.
When he curled up behind her, she really had her doubts but then he pointed out the Kelpie pups. They were itty bitty things, green as grass with black manes and flowing tails. They were knickering and splashing while they frolicked in the foam. Minerva couldn't contain her delight, so she smiled at Cináed. To her surprise, he was smiling also, a big, boyish grin of sheer delight which made him seem so much younger.
"Careful, the Mum will be out soon," he whispered.
She was so engrossed in watching the Kelpies that she didn't notice that he was stroking her hand. Long, gentle strokes and his breathing was loud in her ear. Now it had been only the other day when Minerva had proudly claimed to be a smoker, drinker and a lover, but truth demanded that she smoked cigarettes because of Augusta, drank because she had the Scottish tradition to maintain and had only a handful of experiences with physical love. And while her beaus had been sweet and attentive, she had mainly gone all the way because everyone else was supposedly doing it.
Not the best reason, she knew, as Head Girl McGonagall had often chastised the feckless followers of fools.
The hand stroking stopped, as though he was waiting for her to decide if she wished to slap or snog him. Her body was saying, snog, snog, snog while her brain was voting that she should clout him.
Really, he was bloody Slytherin and ENGAGED.
To a two year old, so this would be at most would be a summer fling. And the thought of a summer fling was both exhilarating and scandalous. Really, she had dealt with Augusta's torrid romances for most of her years at Hogwarts and her delighted crowing. It was long past time for her own.
She nodded her head and slid his hand up to her breast.
With a slowness that had to be deliberate, Cináed unbuttoned her blouse and then tugged at her brassiere so her breasts were exposed. He had difficulty with the clasp so his attempts at being the smooth and debonair seducer were not successful. She laughed, innocently but he pouted. Sweet Lord, Yaxley pouted!
"Don't make a sound, as Mum will soon be here," he whispered. "Make a peep and she'll drown us both."
She never thought much of her diddies. They weren't particularly impressive specimens but they were what she had been given so there was no use complaining or wishing for bigger titties. To her surprise, Cináed Yaxley was a breast man, as he was enthralled by her diddies. From his enthusiasm it was almost like he had never seen a set before, but the way he stroked them, kissed them and God help her... nibbled on them, proved that thought was erroneous.
He got her in such a state that she couldn't cast a non-verbal silencing spell, so she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out in passion.
She turned away from him, to watch the loch when a large horse's head broke the surface of the loch. It was green as emerald with a black flowing mane. The ickle Kelpies squealed their excitement as Mum had arrived and Minerva struggled not to make a sound because Cináed's hand was between her thighs. The bloody bastard proceeded to tease her, long, leisurely strokes, a quick twisting caress, then more leisurely stroking. He kept the rhythm of is strokes syncopated and irregular, while Minerva undulated wildly under him.
She was at the very cusp, teetered and then exploded. And if Mum Kelpie heard her cry out in passion, and decided to drag her and Cináed to be the very depths of the loch, she'd have no complaints.
"Oh yes," he whispered in his Scottish growl. "You've no idea how much I've wanted to see you like this. Head Girl Minerva McGonagall, hair disheveled, clothing completely undone. I've wanted to be twixt your legs so badly. And I believe that you're ready for me."
He smiled before he leaned over to kiss her. She pulled away in confusion. In her haste, she couldn't seem to button her shirt and it took her far too long to decide just to cover her chest with her hands.
"Whatever is the matter?" Cináed asked. He seemed truly confused by her response. "I've fancied you for years, Minerva. You wouldn't give me the time of day at Hogwarts, so I thought it was a fantasy that would never come true."
"You fancied me?" She asked. "Me?"
"Aye. You've got that lovely black hair. You're tall and svelte. You've got quite the tongue on you, and you knocked me off my broom when we played Quidditch breaking six of my ribs. Plus you're smart enough to have a conversation with – though you'd never consent to talk to me at school. Too busy with your fellow Gryffindors. Always too proud to listen to me when I made suggestions about the proper forks."
"Sod you, Yax," she snapped.
"That's what I'm hoping for," he protested in severe exasperation. "But it's not happening, as you're a bloody cock tease!"
She glared at him. In response, he growled a series of obscenities, she responded in kind and before much longer, they were snogging like a bunch of third years in the Quidditch pitch. Besides rolling on the blanket and tickling each other while they laughed.
-8-8-8-
Later on.
Minerva was stroking his hair and he was resting his head on her breasts. "I'm surprised," she began.
"It's the size of a wizard's hands that says how large his wand is, not the man's height," Cináed quipped.
"No, no, no. I'm surprised that the Kelpies haven't dragged us off to the bottom of the loch. We made enough noise," she explained.
"I did a silencing spell," he admitted. At her look of extreme displeasure, Cináed just laughed and gave her a dimpled smile. "As was proper, I also did the contraceptive spell. I don't wish to ruin your employment with Elphinstone by you sicking up and needing to purchase a pram."
"You know Mr. Urquart?" Minerva asked.
"He was a friend of my uncle, Calum. Uncle thought very highly of him, so I tried for the position. Father thought it was a waste of my talent, and pushed my application elsewhere. I will be working at the Ministry but in a different department. Truth of the matter, my father dislikes Mr. Urquart; thinks he's a hopeless progressive. Considering you're not Pure Blooded, he's the best Department Head for you. He'll overlook you using the wrong fork."
Minerva said nothing, though she admitted only to herself that she was nervous about the possibility of dealing with the Pure Bloods at the Ministry. She had been raised in as close to a nonMagical Household as possible, so she didn't understand what every second generation took for granted. She had studied, and studied hard to make up her lack, but sometimes she didn't know the oddest things. "The Hopping Pot"? "Babbity Rabbity"?
Yaxley continued talking, "Instead, I am to be a Hit Wizard for five years. Gain the experience there, and I will then move to another department."
Minerva was noticing how Cináed seemed to brighten when he spoke of his uncle. His affect went flat when he mentioned his father and he rarely mentioned his stepmother.
-8-8-8-
