Summary: There is something special about the bond between a father and his daughter – something magical that brings out the best in any man – even the most cynical. Written in response to harrystrulove's Butterfly Kisses Challenge on SAYS.
The Challenge: Write a Songfic using the Butterfly Kisses lyrics (12+). For your story, you can portray any male HP character experiencing the joys of fatherhood. Perhaps it could be about Arthur Weasley and his experiences with Ginny as she grows up. Or maybe it's post-Hogwarts Harry or Ron with his daughter. Of course, those are just examples.
Rules:
1. Any pairing EXCEPT Harry/Cho
2. The story must portray an HP character as a father raising his daughter from infancy to adulthood and eventually giving her away on her wedding day. He can be married, divorced or widowed, but either way, he's raising his daughter whom he loves more than anything else in the world.
3. Any rating
4. Must have a happy ending
5. Any genre
6. Story could end on the daughter's wedding day, but this is not a requirement.
7. You MUST use the lyrics in your story.
8. Have fun!
Disclaimer: All HP characters are the property of JKR, the WB, and respective publishing companies - this is nothing more than a simple FanFiction that I have written. I have made no money from this or any of the other stories I have posted on this or other sites. I also do not own any portion of the song (or lyrics) of Butterfly Kisses. I just borrowed them to help create the mood of this story.
AN: I realize that not much is known about McGonagall's early life, so most of the events that occur in this story are probably far from canon – but created strictly for the purpose of this story. Er… or something like that. This story was originally posted by myself on HPFF under the same title. - Jenn
Butterfly Kisses:
The Story of a Father and his Daughter
Duncan McKay paced the hall as muffled screams and moans filtered through the closed door where his wife lay on their bed giving birth to their first child. He paused just outside the door, balling his right hand into a fist, he stuffed it in his mouth and bit down hard in an attempt to remain calm, when that didn't work he resumed his agitated pacing and prayed to the gods that his wife and child might survive the night. When he reached the end of the hallway, he stared out of the window at the darkening sky.
Outside, the moon crested the horizon, chasing the light of the sun as the heavenly sphere sank down below the waves of the crashing see far off to the west. Higher and higher the moon rose, adding its soft glow to the twinkling of starlight, its beauty mocking the man's worry as his wife suffered in labor. Growling harshly under his breath, Duncan turned his back and stalked back to the room where his wife lay and froze as a long anguished wail rose before cutting off sharply.
Fear laced through Duncan's heart and a cold sweat broke out on his face and hands as his breath caught in his throat. Desperately he strained his ears, hoping against hope that he would hear something – anything from behind the closed door that kept him from his wife. A thin cry soon rose; a gentle, frightened sound, that was barely loud enough to be heard through the door. It was such a stark contrast to the screams that had been filling the house less then a minute ago, that at first Duncan was unsure of what it was that he was hearing.
As comprehension dawned, the door opened and an exhausted healer stepped out into the hall holding a tiny bundle wrapped in swaddling clothes. The woman didn't smile as she looked up at Duncan, her eyes wary and weary as she held his eyes. "You're daughter," she announced in a voice that was rasped harshly.
"Brianne?" Duncan inquired urgently as he ignored the wriggling bundle that the woman tried to give him. "My, wife, how is my wife? Brianne?" His voice rose higher as he called his wife's name a second time, straining to peer into the room over the healer's diminutive form.
"I am sorry, McKay, your lady wife did not make it," the healer replied gently, once more attempting to hand the mewling babe to him once more.
"No! No!" Duncan wailed as he thrust the woman aside and hurried to the bed where his wife lay motionless. "Brianna, love, speak to me. I know you can hear me. I beg you, don't leave me!" Frantically he clutched her hand in his and squeezed it tightly as he stroked her face with his other hand, tears coursing down his cheeks as he noted how pale her face looked. He desperately avoided looking at the soiled bed sheets, still wet with blood from the birth, and continued to plead with his wife's spirit and the gods.
The healer stood silently in the background, rocking the whimpering babe in her arms as she watched the scene unfolding. Her heart went out to the distraught man, feeling his pain, wishing she could have done more to save the young woman on the bed. Childbirth was hard in these times though, and even magic couldn't save every woman. At least she had been able to save the child this time – a miracle considering the last moments before the birth.
Looking down, the woman studied the tiny girl in her arms, and felt a rush of warmth at seeing her little red face scrunched up. Her lungs were weak, but she lived and that was what mattered. Looking back to where Duncan knelt beside the bed, his sobs wracking his body, she felt older and more worn then she had before. In all her years as a healer and mid-wife she'd never gotten used to losing a patient – especially when she'd saved so many of them when all hope seemed lost.
Quietly she approached him, laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, and whispered to him; "She was brave through it all, she fought with the heart of a lion. I only wish I could have done more for her, but, your daughter needs you now, McKay, you're all she has left."
Duncan looked up, and as if for the first time, he noticed the small bundle that the woman carried in her arms. Reluctantly he let go of his wife's hand and climbed to his feet, his tears still trickling down his face. Tenderly he leaned over and softly kissed his wife's lips one last time, breathing her name under his breath like a prayer, before he turned to the healer and gently gathered his daughter into his arms for the first time.
"She looks so much like her mother," Duncan murmured as he pulled the swaddling cloth down so he could study the baby's face. Bright eyes, shining with tears, gazed up into his with an intense fury as little arms freed from the confining wrap swung angrily back and forth. "So fierce, my little lion is too, brave like her mother."
"She is a beautiful babe," the healer agreed kindly.
"Aye, that she is. My little, Minerva," Duncan whispered, cradling his daughter close as he hummed wordlessly to her.
Two days later Brianne McKay was buried on the moor, and Duncan clung to his sanity by a thread. The only thing keeping him focused was his daughter and she soon became his only world.
Five years later, Duncan watched as his little Minerva sat on a broom for the first time, her little legs dangling just a few inches off the ground as the training broom floated lazily across the yard and Duncan felt his heart swelling in his chest.
"Papa, look at me! Papa, did you see me?"
"I saw you princess! You were amazing, why don't you turn around and come back this way so I can see how talented a flyer you are again!" Duncan called back warmly, a large grin on his face.
There's two things I know for sure:
She was sent here from heaven and she's
daddy's little girl.
Later that night, after supper and a bath, the two of them sat on Minerva's bed reading a bedtime story about unicorns and winged horses – it was Minerva's favorite story. Duncan would read the words aloud slowly – letting his finger trace an invisible line under each one as he spoke. When he paused, Minerva would then try to read the same sentence, running her finger under the words just like her father. Duncan patiently waited as she tried to sound out each world, only offering the smallest of hints when she tripped up over the longer words, and when she finished he'd start the next sentence.
The story lasted longer this way, though Minerva was always sad when the story was finished and it was time to put the book away and slip beneath the covers. Duncan teased her when she balked that night.
"I'm thinking my daughter is half cat – the way she insists on staying up all night long, or maybe an owl."
"Meow!" Minerva called as she giggled loudly. "Can I stay up longer now?"
"Even little kittens must sleep sometime," Duncan countered as he pulled up her covers and tucked them under her chin. Leaning down he kissed her forehead and felt her tiny arms wrap around his neck as she hugged him and kissed his cheek in return.
"I love you, Papa."
"I love you too, Kitten," Duncan repeated as he carried the book to the bookshelf and put it away before blowing out the candle. He watched Minerva for a minute, the moonlight dancing across her face as she curled up into her pillow and quickly drifted off to sleep.
As I drop to my knees by her bed at night
She talks to Jesus and I close my eyes and
I thank god for all the joy in my life
Oh, but most of all
Another year passed by and Duncan couldn't believe how big his little Minerva was getting. Tall and slender as a bean pole, she loved to run across the fields and had recently forsaken her treasured training broom – after having discovered the spirited little ponies that the Muggle children rode. Duncan knew how much she wanted a pony of her own, it had been the main subject of conversation for the last three months straight, and he had purchased one just recently as a birthday present for her, it would be arriving in two day's time on her birthday – Duncan never could refuse Minerva, for he loved nothing better then to see her face lit up with a smile.
In the wee morning hours on the day of her birthday, Duncan slipped out of the house while Minerva still slept. He was due to meet a Muggle down the road and out of sight of the house and he had dressed accordingly in the McKay tartan and kilt. Arriving at the designated meeting place, he found the man waiting with the pony saddled and brindled.
It was a dumpy little thing – as most Shetlands are want to be – but it's long mane had been brushed until it was soft and silky and the pony's coat practically glowed in the early dawn light. Paying the man in Muggle coins, Duncan accepted the reins of the docile beast and thanked the man for coming so early. Duncan then led the animal around behind the house where he tied it to a tree so it wouldn't wander off.
Pleased with his gift, Duncan hurried back to the house in time to change back into robes – he didn't want Minerva to see him in Muggle clothes and become suspicious. He was just pulling on his favorite dragon skin boots when Minerva burst into his room with an excited whoop. Duncan stood up and held out his arms as she rushed towards him, enveloping her in a tight hug before kissing the tip of her nose.
The two of them then climbed down the stairs together to eat a light breakfast of toast and porridge. Afterwards he led her around to where he'd tied the pony, her eyes hidden behind his large hands as he guided her around clumps of grass and stray rocks. They were just about to the tree when the pony squealed playfully and Minerva pried his hands away from her face in shock as she gazed upon the pony for the first time.
"Happy birthday, Kitten," Duncan announced warmly as he smiled down into her shocked and hopeful eyes.
Minerva hugged him tightly before walking up to the pony and stroking its soft nose. "What's its name papa?"
"She hasn't got a name yet," Duncan explained as he joined her beside the animal and ran his fingers through its mane.
"I shall call her Mooncalf," Minerva announced after a few seconds of intense concentration. "She glows like moonlight and she's so pale!"
"It's a good name, Kitten," Duncan stated as he helped her to mount the pony. Then, at her request, he walked beside the pony resting his hand on its rump while she held tightly onto the reins in both hands while twisted her fingers into the pony's mane. She wore one of the biggest smiles he'd even seen though, her eyes glowing with excitement and pure joy.
For butterfly kisses after bedtime prayer;
sticking little white flowers all up in her hair;
"Walk beside the pony, Daddy, it's my first ride."
"I know the cake looks funny, Daddy, but I sure tried."
It was now the summer before Minerva's twelfth birthday and Duncan had high hopes that her Hogwarts' letter would arrive any day now. Minerva for the most part, didn't seem to be overly anxious about getting her Hogwarts' letter and the one time Duncan had brought it up she had expressed concern about being away from him for so long if she did go to Hogwarts.
It was a bright august morning, when the owl glided into the kitchen bearing the sealed envelope addressed to Minerva, and Duncan felt his heart swell with pride as he watched his daughter accept the letter from the owl and open it with trembling fingers.
Her eyes seemed to light up from within and when she looked up, her face was just shining with excitement. Duncan knew there was no doubt that Minerva had very much wanted to go to Hogwarts, even if she'd tried to pretend that she hadn't been dreaming of it every moment of the last three years.
In all that I've done wrong I know I must
have done something right to deserve a huge
very morning and butterfly kisses at night.
That first year of separation was excruciatingly painful for Duncan. His daughter had been the driving force behind his life, his entire reason for living, and she was not there. She was off learning how to be a proper witch and he was left alone in the house that seemed so empty now that her laughter no longer filled every room. He would walk from room to room picturing her smiling face, remembering her excited questions, solemn declarations, and her stern visage when telling the Crup to stay out of the chicken feed.
Second year was just slightly easier, her letters more frequent as she spoke of her favorite subjects, the praise the teachers gave her for spells done correctly, and the antics of her new found friends. If Minerva missed the days she used to spend by Duncan's side, she hid it much better then he did. Duncan was proud of her though, and he religiously saved each and every one of her letters in a special keepsake box that used to belong to his wife.
Third and forth year passed by quickly as Duncan became caught up in the fight against the rising dark wizard, Grindelwald and his loyal followers. He worried about his daughter's safety, but felt confidant that Hogwarts was the safest place for her. The summer before her fifth year was a magical time for Duncan, for it was the first time he discovered the woman that she was growing into. It was also the first time he noticed how much like her mother she looked, nearly sixteen years old and every inch a blossoming young woman. She was quickly becoming a formidable witch too, favoring Transfiguration and Charms.
Sweet 16 today
She's looking like her mama a little more everyday
One part woman, the other part girl.
To perfume and make-up from ribbons and curls
Trying her wings out in a great big world.
Minerva was even starting to show more interest in the young wizards that attended school with her, exchanging letters and gifts with young Logan McGonagall all summer long. Watching her sigh over the boy's attempts at romantic poetry would make Duncan smile fondly and recall his own courtship with Minerva's mother, Brianne. His heart still ached when he thought of his dead wife, but Duncan had nearly sixteen years worth of wonderful memories he had shared with his daughter.
But I remember
Butterfly kisses after bedtime prayer; sticking
little white flowers all up in her hair.
"You know how much I love you, Daddy, But if you
don't mind I'm only gonna kiss you on the cheek this time."
With all that I've done wrong I must have done
something right to deserve her love every morning
and butterfly kisses at night.
Duncan stood waiting for the train to pull into platform nine and three quarters, his heart swelling with pride as he waited for his daughter to come home at last. Seven long years he'd endured the endless months of separation from his only child and now, she'd be returning to him once more – a fully trained witch, and an adult.
The old steam engine's whistle blew shrilly as the scarlet train rounded the corner and slowed to a stop beside the tiny platform. Duncan gripped the small box in his hands tightly as he edged forward to see the departing students more clearly – anxiously searching for his daughter in the crowd of laughing children of various ages.
And then he saw her; dressed in pale green robes, her hair pulled up in a loose bun, hanging on the arm of Logan McGonagall, as the young man walked her down the stairs of the train levitating two trunks behind him. Duncan felt his throat tighten and his eyes mist as he watched her laughing up into the smiling face of the young man by her side. It was at that moment that Minerva caught sight of him waiting for her and she politely excused herself from her beau and rushed towards him.
Duncan caught her up in his arms and hugged her tightly, whispering that he'd missed her more then ever this year – since she'd chosen to stay at Hogwarts over the winter and spring holidays for the first time. Minerva confessed that she had missed him too and Duncan felt his heart warm with the knowledge that his daughter loved him as much as he loved her.
Breaking the embrace, he handed her the small present and smiled goofily as she opened it up and discovered the small emerald and ivory brooch with gold filigree. She kissed him on his cheek and promptly pinned it over her heart.
All the precious time
Like the wind, the years go by.
Precious butterfly.
Spread your wings and fly.
That night Logan McGonagall joined them for supper at the McKay castle and the three of them spoke of Hogwarts with fond memories. Duncan regaled the two young adults with tales of Tri-Wizard Tournaments, fancy balls, and his beautiful Brianne. When supper finished, Logan asked to speak with Duncan and the two men retired to the study while Minerva cleared the table.
"Mr. McKay," Logan began, his face flushed with nervousness. "I wanted to… that is I would like to have your permission to marry your daughter."
"Would you now?" Duncan asked back, his voice stern, but not unkind as he studied the young man standing in front of him. "Have you spoken to Minerva of your intentions?"
"No, not yet," Logan replied earnestly. "We have discussed our futures though, and we are very fond of each other. I'd like to have your approval and blessings if possible."
"How do you plan on providing for both of your futures?"
"I'm applying for a position within the Ministry, sir, and Minerva is determined to teach young witches and wizards. She is determined not to depend on a wizard for support."
"Yes, that's my proud little girl," Duncan agreed with a chuckle. "I know Minerva is very fond of you, Logan, and I'm sure that you will both make each other very happy."
"I have your blessing?"
"Yes."
She'll change her name today.
Duncan smoothed out the wrinkles in his dress robes before he knocked on the door to the dressing room where Minerva was preparing herself for her upcoming nuptials. While he waited for her to answer the door, he couldn't help but feel a lingering sadness at the thought that today, today he would be giving her away.
She'll make a promise and I'll give her away.
When the door opened, Duncan just stared at his little Minerva. She was dressed in long white robes, her hair piled on her hair and threaded through with tiny blue and white flowers. Lace clung to the ends of her sleeves and hid all but the tips of her fingers from view, the bodice was snugger then he would have liked – but it accented her womanly figure while still leaving much to the imagination.
"Daddy? Is something wrong?" Minerva asked worriedly, her face full of concern that something might have gone wrong.
"Nothing is wrong, Kitten," Duncan soothed – earning a smile from his daughter at the use of her old nickname. "You look so beautiful, even more like your mother then ever before. I wish she could see you now, how lovely you look. I can't believe that you'll be getting married today and I'm afraid I'll be losing my baby girl."
"Oh Daddy, you aren't losing me," Minerva assured him as she hugged him tightly and kissed his cheek. "I wish mum could be here too, but I'm most thankful that you are here for me."
Standing in the bride-room just staring at her.
She asked me what I'm thinking and I said "I'm not
sure-I just feel like I'm losing my baby girl."
She leaned over...gave me butterfly kisses with her mama there,
Sticking little white flowers all up in her hair
"Walk my down the aisle, Daddy-it's just about time."
"Does my wedding gown look pretty, Daddy? Daddy, don't cry!"
Duncan smiled down at his daughter and offered her his arm. Together, they walked down the isle and Duncan gave her away to the man she'd chosen and he prayed that she'd be as happy as he had been when he'd first married her mother. He also thanked Merlin for all of the precious memories he'd been given and that he'd carry with him in his heart for the rest of his life.
Oh, with all that I've done wrong I must have
done something right.
To deserve your love every morning and butterfly
kisses-I couldn't ask God for more, man this is what love is.
Duncan said at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of strong coffee, when an owl fluttered in through an open window. Taking the envelope from the owl, he gave it a slice of apple as thanks, and glanced at the address on the front. Right away, he recognized his daughter's hand writing and he set down his coffee mug so he could open the letter.
Daddy,
I just wanted to let you know that I've been hired
on at Hogwarts as the new Transfiguration Professor.
Dumbledore has been made Headmaster and he
remembered me from school. I'm so excited about
starting with the new term!
I love you and I miss you. Hope to see you soon!
Hugs and kisses,
Minerva
Duncan smiled and felt his heart swell with pride once more as he gazed unseeing at the wall in front of him with memories of his beloved daughter's childhood parading before his minds eye.
I know I gotta let her go, but I'll always remember
every hug in the morning and butterfly kisses.
* * * THE END * * *
