The summer passed in a blissful blur. Things finally went in the right direction, and he felt hopeful. He practically lived in the third bedroom to the left at the Three Broomsticks because he rented it almost every weekend. Perhaps a little ahead of himself, he'd paid through September at the end of August, though this filled the barman's pockets with gold. Mitchel Burke never gave a word of complaint.
As a schoolteacher, she took the summers off; he pounded the pavement from the usual nine to five every Monday through Friday. With his demanding schedule, there were no sick days. Death stayed in high demand. Death and taxes, he'd once heard, were the two certainties of life. Someone always needed a hand with will or a trust, and there was always the good old standby of a casket brawl over the dearly departed.
He laid beside her and caught his breath. Whenever the weekend rolled around, they made love. Whenever she was angry or happy, they made love. It was nothing more than a small bedroom, yet this was his new happy place. Minerva got up, saying nothing, and started to dress.
Not wanting to ruin their perfect bubble of happiness, Elphinstone pretended not to notice. As long as he didn't bring up words like "proposal", or "engagement", or "forever", he tended to stay on her good side. Did marriage really matter, anyway? A secret love affair was nice. It wasn't even an affair because they weren't promised to other people, and he'd never want anyone else. At forty, nearly fifteen years ago, he had known in his bones that he'd found the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.
Something still irked him. Minerva straightened her robes, sat back down on the bed, and started brushing her dark hair, determinedly not looking at him. She'd acted strange the entire weekend.
"You can stay until Monday morning," he said, picking a conversation starter and going with it. Mitchel wouldn't care. "It'll stay with you."
"I don't stay here," she said curtly, searching for her things. "I have a bedroom at the castle, and you live in London. How much money do you waste by not staying there? This...whatever we're doing, Elphinstone, this is wrong."
Perhaps this was the reverend's daughter making an appearance. Like everyone, well, people like her, Minerva stayed within the lines and walked a fine line. Elphinstone wasn't religious. Funnily enough, this was never a problem between the two of them, though he imagined it would be the day he crossed paths with her parents. In his experience, things turned wrong when something went wrong or a twist altered the moral definition. Had he done or said something stupid? She didn't flee from the Three Broomsticks. It was late morning, and they'd both slept in. Minerva finished brushing her hair whilst he struggled to piece this together in his head.
"Is it the age difference?"
"No."
Elphinstone nodded, guessing this answer might change in the future. "Okay."
The minutes passed. She made the side of her bed and lay down on top of the covers, probably realizing she had no plans for a lazy day.
He tried again. "It's because I was your boss, isn't it? You're afraid of what others might say or think."
"I haven't worked for you for fifteen years, dearie, so it's safe to say that's not a problem." She actually turned to face him. "People know. There's Mitchel, and Amelia, and Mrs. Crouch, and I'm sure the headmaster knows."
"There are others," he said, moving in the bed and climbing on top of her. They had the rest of the afternoon to get to the bottom of this, or maybe they'd get nowhere. Her anger, her agitation, pleased him. He kissed her, undressing her and ignoring the hour. "Love me, my love. Nobody else matters."
Minerva groaned as he entered her, staring into his eyes. Elphinstone often forewent the foreplay and cut to the chase.
"Tell me you love me." He fell into a rhythm.
"I want you." Minerva kissed him passionately, crying out in pleasure. He loved that sound, yet he noticed sudden tears in her eyes, and Elphinstone slowed down. "It's ... it's nothing. It's fine. I'm ... you're fine."
"I'm fine?" This ended their romance abruptly. He got out of bed and pulled on his clothes. A patient man, he rarely got angry with her, yet there were moments. Minerva McGonagall wasn't the easiest woman to get along with on a good or bad day. What she said wasn't the same thing. He got to the door, fishing a lighter and cigarettes out of his coat pocket. Opening the large picture window, made himself comfortable on the windowsill and stretched out his legs. He'd almost walked out of room. He lit up, agitated. "What the hell does that mean?"
They'd been playing this game for almost five years. When they moved from friends to lovers, he'd thought he'd made a breakthrough. The sex pleased him. Every time she moved with him, he went mad, and he'd lived for that rush. It was never just sex, and in his eyes, they were never just friends. Elphinstone wasn't exactly young anymore. If he bothered putting on the charm or playing this game with any other woman, he'd be a married man.
But none of them held a candle to her.
Minerva left to use the bathroom and came back. "Elphinstone," she said, straight-faced.
"Don't bother," he said, dismissing her convenient apology with a wave of his hand. He took a long drag on the cigarette. He wanted her to leave him alone.
"This is complicated," she said, fixing the bed.
"Because of the farmer's boy. I know." Elphinstone tired of this story, really, though he'd never tell her this. Elphinstone sniffed, thinking she probably imagined this Dougal McGregor making love to her every time they were together. The man wasn't coming back for her, no matter how much she wanted him. She wanted him. Furious, he left the room.
When he reached the bar, Mitchel stopped wiping down the bar and ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair. "Morning. Late morning. What's wrong, mate?"
"Women," he said savagely. Elphinstone stepped behind the bar. "Give me something to do, please."
"Almost done," said Mitchel, reading over his checklist and smiling when Elphinstone began stocking the beer bottles, unpacking large cardboard boxes from the cellar. "What did she do?"
Mitchel had been married for twenty-five years. Even if whatever Elphinstone said was ridiculous, he wouldn't laugh. Well, chances were, he'd get a good laugh out of this, yet he would give an honest answer. "Has Nina ever faked it?"
Mitchel turned to him, confused for a moment. "What? Oh, oh, that. We've been together forever. Yeah, probably. Why? Is the professor playing with you?"
"Mitchel." Elphinstone snapped at him, annoyed. Is that what this was? She needed to scratch an itch, and he was always dependably there like some faithful dog wagging its tail. He emptied the second box and locked the cupboard. "I hate you."
Mitchel got the girl, and the establishment, and the children, and the grandchildren. Elphinstone himself found the middleman to weave all of Mitchel's real estate deals. Mitchel made it all look easy. He wasn't wealthy by any means, but he was well-off and his small granddaughter, Rosmerta, saw this place as a wonderland. Sundays afternoons were more laid back.
Mitchel gave his wand a casual flick and the floors started mopping themselves and the tables cleaned themselves. "She loves you."
"Does she?" Doubtful, Elphinstone broke down the cardboard boxes.
"Elphinstone. That girl treats you better than anyone you've ever been with. Clara? Remember her? I don't even know if that's what she's called, honestly, if you want to know the truth. That's how forgettable she was. That was just sex." Mitchel walked around and sat on one of his barstools. He cleared his throat, slipping into his serious demeanor. He glanced over his shoulder, perhaps checking for his wife or his granddaughter. "I've talked to her. We talk a lot."
"You and Minerva?" Elphinstone, surprised, frowned at him. Minerva acted as though she never thought much of the barman. Elphinstone paid for his drinks from last night. "I'm not buying that. Mitchel, anyone you've given a free drink to can be your friend."
"I've never given her anything for free," said Mitchel, counting the coins before depositing them into his till. He plastered a smile on his face as Minerva came downstairs. "Professor McGonagall."
"Morning, Mitchel," she said, taking care of her weekend expenses.
"Afternoon, really," he said carelessly, shrugging it off. He nodded at Elphinstone. "Professor, tell this this what happens every third Thursday at five-thirty."
"That's dinnertime," she said, waiting for him to count her money. Mitchel positively beamed at her. "See you Thursday, Mr. Burke."
She left.
Satisfied, Mitchel raised his eyebrows at Elphinstone. "I see your girl more than you do. Are you jealous?"
"No."
He lied straight through this teeth. As a lawyer, he was a practiced liar. After he'd learning his clients were a bunch of storytellers, Elphinstone added this weapon to his arsenal. It did nothing in regards to his best mate. When Mitchel reminded his of this, Elphinstone, getting angrier, left the establishment without saying goodbye
He caught up with Minerva at the post office. "What's wrong you?"
"Nothing." She headed towards the castle. When he grabbed her by the arm forced her to face him, her face fell. "I don't want to tell you. Because when I tell you, everything shifts."
"All right," he said slowly, feeling quite wrong-footed. He couldn't imagine her with the farmer's boy, especially since he was a married man. She followed the rules. "Is there someone else?"
"What? No." She looked scandalized, making him laugh despite the fact she was dead serious. Elphinstone kissed her. When they broke apart, she stepped back, not meeting his eyes again. "I think ... I'm pregnant."
Elphinstone let her go. She interpreted his silence and started towards Hogwarts again. This wasn't completely unexpected; it only took once. They made love all the time, every time they were together, and something like this either happened or it didn't. They'd been lucky, honestly. He shrugged, deciding to go with it. Sure, he wasn't too comfortable around small children, and he'd be an older father, but this changed nothing.
He called after her. "Minerva, wait."
"I'll take care of it. It's nothing."
She was visiting her father this week; she would leave for Caithness the next day. What would happen whenever this got out? Annoyed she hadn't even given him a moment to process this, he sped up and marched beside her. "We can do this. You don't know. I might be good at this, which means I might surprise you because I take care of my people."
"You take care of your people at work," she clarified, stopping to face him when they reached her office on the first floor. She unlocked the door with a tap of her wand. "You don't want this."
"You don't know that. I take care of my people? What is that nonsense?" He stepped over the threshold and stroked her face. "You are my people. I love you, and I will love you until the day I die."
"Elphinstone," she said, walking over to her desk. He followed her, reached into his trousers pocket, and opened a jewelry box before placing it on her desk. She glanced at the sapphire and diamond ring. "You carry it everywhere?"
"What can I say? I'm an optimist," he said evenly. If he ever got mugged in the street, he'd be in some serious trouble. There was another ring in this set, a ring he hoped to place on her finger on day. When she invited him to come with her tomorrow to meet her parents, he grinned like some eager schoolboy. He'd seriously thought Minerva would never ask him this question. "Let the record now, I accepted the first time round like a normal human being."
The sides of her mouth twitched. She took the ring out of the box and placed it on her finger, eyeing him carefully. "You are not going to loose your head over this."
Too late. A moment later, Elphinstone strode over to Minerva and lifted her in his arms, spinning her around in his happiness. Minerva let out a little scream, laughing with him. Elphinstone put her down, waving at the caretaker as the fellow continued down the corridor, his cat following closely behind.
"We're getting married," he said breathlessly, somewhat surprised to hear the words coming out of his own mouth. It set in a minute later, and those words carried weight. Nervous, he ran his hand through his hair. He tried to sound casual, yet there was no pulling this off smoothly. "When was your father born?"
Minerva reeled off the birthdate including the year and the place, before stepping into her bedroom and gathering her things for her holiday. When he asked her to say it again, Minerva made a face as she folded a flowery summer dress. Nauseous, Elphinstone sank into a chair opposite her desk. The color drained from his face. "Why do you ask?"
Elphinstone figured she might as well of punched him in the stomach. "I'm older than him."
"February twenty-ninth generally falls before March eighteenth, yes,"she said, stating this matter-of-factly. She had the gall to joke about this! Minerva had figured this out a long time ago. Elphinstone rolled his eyes. She went back into her bedroom, annoyed with him. "Oh, Elphinstone, what does it matter?"
"It matters," he hissed through gritted teeth.
Minerva came back in and placed her suitcase on the desk, checking her things. She slipped her toiletries under her other things. When he'd first met her, the night he walked her home on Napier Street in London, he'd mistaken an eighteen-year-old girl for a woman in her early thirties. Minerva had always carried herself well. It had been a careless, stupid mistake when he'd kissed her then. Elphinstone, embarrassed, had never bothered sharing this with her, even though he now realized it wasn't some innocent mistake. Elphinstone had seen what he wanted to see.
"Well, you worry yourself to death over nothing," she said carelessly.
"None of this is nothing," he said, getting to his feet. She didn't see it. He walked over to the office door, muttering about packing a bag and picking up a few things. "How is your father going to feel when we tell him your having a child with a man who could've sat in his class? That'll go over really well with the reverend. Good night."
He stepped out of the office and disappeared.
The following morning when they arrived in Caithness, he noticed she still wore the ring. The didn't walk through the county as a couple, though, but walked alongside each other as friends. Elphinstone carried their bags, comfortable in his light suit. When they approached the manse, Minerva walked straight past it and continued along her way. Confused, Elphinstone set the bags on the front steps and followed her.
"Are you all right?" He knew the answer.
"I need a moment." Minerva walked to the church. As it wasn't a day of worship, the parking lot was empty. She let him smoke, saying both her brothers smoked like chimneys. There was no smoking in the church itself. She rubbed her hands together and walked back and forth, back and forth.
"Minerva," said Elphinstone.
"Shut up. Please be quiet because I can't concentrate with you saying my name, or asking if I need anything, or asking if I'm all right. I'm not all right. I can't do this."
Elphinstone guessed this was either the marriage or the child. He didn't even know the full story there, and he didn't want to prepare her. When she broke the news to her father, would she tell him everything? Which seemed more pressing? If this were his mother, who was frail and old. Elphinstone wouldn't let her near his child. He'd pretend he didn't have one because Miranda Urquart, his mother, would dig her claws into a Urquart heir.
"I can't have a child," she said, petrified.
"It'll be fine," Elphinstone said, hoping he disguised his own mounting fear of the prospect. "You're with children all the time, and we'll figure this out."
"Yes. And I worry about them all the time! What if Matthew eats something with peanuts in it? He's allergic! And the day my Quidditch Captain cracked his skull last year? My father was right. What sort of idiot parents let their children ride a broomstick?" Minerva inhaled sharply again and again, her words coming out disconnected and in a rush. When he approached her, she shook her head, trying and failing to regain control. "What if something happens whenever it's at school, and you're in London stuck in a hearing or ...or something."
"Whoa, whoa." Elphinstone led her over the church steps and sat down with her. He spoke in a dead calm, seeing all of her worries as valid as she rattled on about this, and that, and chicken pox. He stopped her there, chuckling, certain she'd invented that last one. "What's that?
"Chicken pox? All children get chicken pox; it's a Muggle disease with these red bumps, and you get all itchy. It's contagious and awful. Malcolm and I caught it together when my mother was pregnant with Robert." Minerva balked at the memory. "Daddy was exhausted! Run around like a chicken with its head cut off whilst running the church."
This frightened Elphinstone more than anything. "Is that a side effect? Poultry decapitation?"
"No. It's a saying, you fool." She laughed. burying her face in her hands. She relaxed her shoulders.
"It won't be Muggle-born," he pointed out, patting her on the knee. "So no chicken nonsense. Maybe head lice. That's nasty. We will be ... we'll figure it out. And if you can't get to me right away, there's always Mitchel."
"Mitchel." Minerva lowered her hands.
"Yeah, he's not too bright, is he? Nina raised those children. Well, there's your matron up at the school." Elphinstone placed a finger underneath her chin and slowly turned her head to face him. He spoke slowly and confidently. "You have nothing to worry about, love, because I'm going nowhere."
And then he kissed her.
"Minerva?" a deep voice said at the top of the stairs. "You're early."
"Daddy." Minerva practically jumped to her feet as she straightened out her dress. She got to her feet and patted her hair.
The reverend stood there with a cardboard box full of contents. He wore a plain dress shirt over ironed slacks. He looked Elphinstone up and down. The Reverend McGonagall resembled his daughter, especially in the face, although his dark hair was sprinkled with grey. Elphinstone, who had never bothered with meeting the parents before, got to his feet. He introduced himself as Minerva's friend.
"Come inside." The reverend led them inside the church. They stood in the aisle and he drafted his piece, a sermon, Elphinstone thought, at the pulpit. Every once in a while, he'd scratch his chin or say the words out loud, lost in his work. Monday was a dead day at the church.
Minerva, nervous, patted Elphinstone's arm. Whenever the reverend looked up, she dashed off. Elphinstone didn't have anything to say, so he stood there with a smile on his face.
"What do you do?" The reverend flipped through a Bible.
"I'm a lawyer," said Elphinstone, shifting his weight, and added, as always for clarification, "an estates lawyer."
"They have regular specialities in the wizarding world. Imagine that." The reverend returned to his work. "Your name sounds familiar."
Elphinstone nodded, struggling to think of where the Reverend McGonagall might've heard of him. This definitely would not warm the stern man up to him, but he went with the truth. "I was her boss for three years at the Ministry."
Minerva returned and walked up the steps to the pulpit. He kissed her father on the cheek. "Daddy. What're you talking about?"
"Mr. Urquart says he's your friend, an estates lawyer," he said, filling her in. He raised his eyebrows and set his work aside. "It's nice that he cares for you."
"Yes," said Elphinstone, catching the edge in the man's voice.
"Though why he would be kissing my daughter at church, I have not a clue." He glanced at Minerva, who paled. If anyone else would've challenged her, Minerva would've shut it down. "You look ill, Minerva."
"I'm fine," she said, wiping her face with a handkerchief. She glanced at Elphinstone and shifted the handbag on her shoulder. "It's a bug."
"One of those twenty-four spells?" The reverend took her by the hand, spotting the sapphires like a target. "You're getting married?"
Elphinstone nodded.
"To him? Who are you?" The reverend demanded, leading his daughter down the steps and glaring at Elphinstone. His momentary pride evaporated in an instant. He raised his voice when Minerva started speaking, drowning her out. "She is my only daughter. She is my joy in life. Why would you want to marry her?"
"Daddy, this is my decision, and I am not a child." Minerva took her arm back, her confidence leaked though her tone.
"Quiet! I don't want to hear another word from you," he said, turning back to Elphinstone. "You don't even know her!"
"I know her." Elphinstone remained calm, looking into his eyes. He didn't fear many people. "I know she sleeps on her left side, I know she leaves the cap off the toothpaste, and I know she washes her hair with rosemary and mint shampoo."
Minerva raised her eyebrows in surprise, but she turned back to her father. Smiling to himself, Elphinstone surged with pride that he'd gotten that last one right.
"She's confident, and she's so intelligent it's almost scary. I can go on all day, sir." Elphinstone argued with people for a living, and he was quite good at his job whenever he got in his element. "I love her. I'm going to marry her because she's ...she's everything. There aren't many out there like her."
The reverend straightened, mildly interested.
Elphinstone had tried not to fall for this woman. "Trust me, sir, I've looked. Your daughter is special."
"I like him. You should bring him around more often," said the reverend, speaking to his daughter. "Let's do tea at three, and we'll have dinner, too. I can make Shepard's pie. Keep this one."
"All right, three o'clock," she said, taking Elphinstone out of the church. She tucked her arm in his, returning to her brisk manner. She ran her finger engagement ring, hesitating a little. "There's no baby."
Elphinstone sighed, taken aback by his disappointment. "You're sure?"
Minerva slipped a small book, a calendar, book into her handbag. Elphinstone knew what it was because his mother used to carry one of those. Relieved, she added, "Positive. I'm feeling a little under the weather. That's all."
"But you're sure?"
She offered him the ring back. "Not altogether, no. Wait and see."
"I wasn't marrying you for a child," he said, slipping it back on her hand and kissing it. "I know you're not ready, but that will change one day, so you keep it. It's yours. I'm yours."
"But..." Her voice trailed off.
"Are you suddenly not going to be engaged over dinner?" Elphinstone squeezed her hand. "I don't know about you, but I'd rather not anger the reverend right after. I stole his daughter."
"What do you want?"
"I want you." He wanted to sit at table and enjoy Shepard's pie. He placed a hand on her waist as they walked off, for he'd never seen Caithness properly. Today she'd show him around like a local. "I left the Three Broomsticks for Shepard's pie?"
"A dry Shepard's pie, most likely." Minerva pecked him on the cheek as she steered him towards the town square. "You know my shampoo? Impressive."
Elphinstone grinned. He loved her shampoo.