Out of her hands
Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me and so no money is to be made out of this story. I am simply using them to put them into situations that JK Rowling would never do.
Summary: He returns to her after eight months away. She thought he was dead. Can things go back to the way they were before he left her? AD/MM
A/N: This is my new chapter fic. I am not sure how long it will be but I do have a faint idea how I want this to go. I would be grateful if you could read and then review. Your comments are always welcomed. Thanks to my beta reader, Ang!
Chapter One: Accepting the Truth?
In the middle of the vast Scottish Highlands there was a quaint old stone cottage. Simply by looking at it, you would have thought that it had stood there for hundreds of years, as it blended with the miles of greenery and the stone taken from the quarry. In fact, the cottage was relatively new, only a year old to this day but the owners had lovingly made it appear old so it wouldn't stick out and cause offence. There was an ivy vine growing up around the farmyard style door with flowers in the window boxes. The garden was neat but needed some tending to it. This cottage looked the same as the others in the nearby village but one thing set it apart from the others. The curtains were always drawn.
Inside the cottage, Minerva McGonagall sighed. Eight months ago, her life was very different. She had been engaged to the most wonderful man, who was eighty years her senior but it didn't seem that way. He loved and adored her and she felt the same about him. She had no opposition from her family about the man who she loved because they saw the love between them. They had so much in common and felt as though they were equals and soul mates.
He had been the most eligible bachelor when she had met him and she was still a schoolgirl herself. They had struck up a platonic relationship, which didn't blossom into love until she was out of school and working to become a professor. Minerva had moved into the house, which her fiancé built for them and their future children. She had been living with him for two months before the letter had come and took him from her. She still had the letter and she would look at it everyday, as if it held clues to where he was.
He had promised her that he would be back soon and that he loved her dearly. She had believed him and now it had been eight months since he had walked out that door and she had received no word from him. He had gone to fight the darkest wizard that had brought fear and terror into the lives of her and many others. Within days of his departure, word had come through that the dark wizard, Grindelwald, had fallen. Minerva had waited patiently by the door for days. She watched the path that led to their front door but he didn't walk up it. He didn't come home to her.
As the months slowly went by, Minerva had to reside herself to the fact that he wasn't coming back to her. There was no sightings of him. He hadn't been in contact with her family or his. And none of their friends had received a word from him either. She didn't want to give up hope but each day that went by, she lost a little bit more. Her friends were worried about her. She wasn't eating properly and the weight was falling off her lithe frame, making her look gaunt and ill. Minerva could not mourn because she had no closure. She had no body to bury. All she could think about was that somewhere out there, he was hurt and in pain.
Search parties had been sent to the field where Grindelwald had fallen, in hope of finding the greatest wizard of recent times, as the wizarding public had dubbed him. The search parties came back with nothing apart from blood samples that showed his DNA. Minerva, herself, had actually gone with them to see for herself but she was still in denial.
Minerva looked around the familiar kitchen and fought back the tears. She had cried so much and felt that she didn't have the strength to cry anymore. She felt lost without him by her side; making her laugh and making her feel comfortable. She had never known how dependant she was on him until he left her. Part of her wanted to hate him but the other part loved him so much that her heart could not hate. Minerva had gone through so many emotions during the last eight months and she hoped she would never have to deal with them again.
Not only did she think that he was probably dead, she also went through a stage of thinking that he had gone to hiding. He didn't want to return to his life with her. Maybe he had a new life with a new woman and he was never going to come back to her. She had mentioned this to her best friend, Poppy Pomfrey, who had quickly scolded her for thinking such things. But Minerva ignored her. How could Poppy truly understand what she was going through? True, Poppy had had her fair share of troubles. The man she loved was badly injured but Alastor had still found a way back to her. If Minerva was honest with herself, she had no idea what to believe and she wasn't sure if she cared anymore.
She picked up the latest copy of the Daily Prophet. Her eyes couldn't miss the headline that shouted out to her. ALBUS DUMBLEDORE PRESUMED DEAD! Everyone else was giving up hope and carrying on with his or her lives. Minerva had to as well, no matter how painful that was. She had already packed her bags. If she were to move on then she would have to move out of the cottage. She had arranged to stay with Poppy and Alastor while she looked for somewhere else to make her home. She picked up her bags and, before leaving, she left a note addressed to Albus. She wasn't sure if the only man she loved and would ever love would ever find it and read it but she had to leave it.
To be continued
