Author's Note: So, I'm back, and with an idea that has been eating away at me for a while now. Finally, I've put it into words that I can be happy with. Just a fair warning, this story contains spoilers for Pottermore but is also pretty much AU to some major details. I'm keeping Minerva a year older than Tom for the purposes of this fic, so if you don't like timelines that are somewhat out of wack, you might want to skip this one. The rating might change, as I'm not entirely done writing each chapter, and the story does quite a bit of time traveling, so to speak, in order to tell the tale. I haven't tried this particular style before so I'm just going to go for it and see where it leads me. Feedback is more than welcome. As always, none of these characters belong to me, but to the lovely J.K. Rowling, who I thank for allowing me to borrow them for the time being. And now, on with the show...
Sullied Hereto From Untold
July 1944
"Then what happened?" he laughed softly. Field-weary fingers plucked at her floral skirt. Fresh hay, keeping them warm, splintered in her hair and stuck in their socks, the smell thick on their senses. The barn sighed and moonlight fell slatted through its boards. It was a night to rival many nights, but nothing was more apparent to the two than the other beside them.
"All right, all right," Minerva replied, unable to keep herself from smiling. She was grateful for the darkness, though surely her face was burning brightly through it. "I don't mean to, it's just —" She waved a hand and continued, still grinning. "So we were by the water's edge, and it was simply perfect outside, beautiful dusk and all that. It really was romantic, now that I think about it. Anyway, we were there, and he had been acting so serious the whole time. I mean, he was always quite serious, from what I gathered, but by then he was nearly paralyzed! I felt terribly for him, though at the same time it was kind of silly, since I honestly had no idea what was going on. We were classmates, sure, but we'd never been particularly close. It just struck me as... strange, to say the least."
Moving on to the next part of her story, Minerva suddenly clasped his hands in hers, her head inclining fiercely. He feigned surprise and initiated a stare that neither could break away from. Even in the dim light, his eyes were luminous, the friendliest hazel she'd ever seen, and she was falling headfirst into them. Their smiles persisted as she began a dramatic quotation.
"And just like this he had me — though actually he was kneeling — and he said so passionately, like he really meant it, 'Minerva, you are so lovely I cannot bear to pass you by any longer. You triumph over the rest so gracefully, as if you are the only rose left in an unruly thicket of thorns. Your talent, your thirst for knowledge, your dark beauty... I look at you and see all of these things. I look at you and see us, side by side, forever.'" She took a breath and continued. "Now I was sitting there rather concerned, no clue what to say, and even though I knew I was in front of one of the most handsome young men in school, I couldn't bring myself to look at him. Just couldn't."
Minerva shook her head, remembering the moment with much clarity, her hands in his. She never thought she could have been so amused by an incident that she had once found rather unsettling. It was an occurrence she had kept the entirety of from even her closest friends at school, as any misleading explanation she came up with seemed easier to tell than the truth. She made lighthearted fun out of it now in order to push past the darker feelings once evoked by the memory, and because she knew the young man resting next to her was merely curious. They could walk away from one another tomorrow and he wouldn't be any the wiser.
"Minerva?" She came out of her reverie, slightly bashful but regaining her composure easily. Her companion urged her on with a small nod.
"In the end, well... I had to be honest with him. We were too different, we weren't acquainted properly, and it seemed our paths were destined to be severed instead of crossed." She shrugged nonchalantly. "Oddly enough, he seemed to want to protest when I mentioned destiny, but before he could even start — SPLASH!" She mimicked the wave with her hands, and then covered her mouth, stifling her gasps of mirth. "We were caught out after hours, but only he had gotten so wet and, oh, it was riotous. I'm horrible for laughing, I know, but it was all too strange not to! Of course I threw him a towel and a joke later, though he appreciated neither. So serious, that boy. I only saw him briefly after that, but he never addressed me personally again. He won't really have the chance to now, since I've finished my schooling for good."
She stretched then, her lithe yet toned body bending almost reminiscent to that of a cat. His arm had found its way around her shoulders, though she wasn't complaining.
"You've nothing to be worried about, I don't think," he supplied. "There's no shame in telling the truth. In any case, I'm glad you're here and he's there." He beamed down at her and she nodded in agreement, dreamily disregarding the painful twist in her gut.
Everything had gone so well, from the time he'd asked to spend the day with her up until these moments in the barn, on the hay. They'd chatted amicably, as if they'd known one another for a lifetime, and Minerva found herself wondering just how they had not met earlier. Caithness was her home since birth, had watched her grow, had looked over her family for many years. It seemed that even the coincidence of existing in a "small world" had passed them by until this particular point in time, when convenience was not currently in her favor.
"Thanks for the ear, I'm sure it's completely vanished by now," she mentioned quietly after a few minutes' comfortable silence. With half-lidded eyes she looked up to him and he pulled a blanket across their forms, covering them in gentle, sleepy bliss.
"Nonsense. And any time, my lovely Minerva," he said, receiving a playful swat in return. Their laughter filled the barn and then quieted, the decrescendo the most beautiful she'd ever heard. They gazed at each other for a moment, as if sleep would cause them to forget all that had taken place, and were then contented enough to settle in. Simultaneous, smitten goodnights were issued, and they drifted off face to face in the arms of a peaceful summer night. She curled up at his side as he laid a hand at her elbow, a sweet reminder that she was not alone.
