He loved Agnes like a daughter. Although Elphinstone Urquart didn't have any of those, and she was too young to play that part for him.
She definitely held the honor of his favorite niece. At twenty-three, she was already a young mother with another one on the way. Nobody bothered advertising this for obvious reasons, for her grandfather was a reverend, yet it was out there. A skilled potioneer, Agnes worked out of a couple well-known apothecaries. She usually tied her dark hair in a single plait and wore plain clothing.
Elphinstone had no family. He'd married into one a few hours ago, and the nieces and nephews who liked him had been calling him uncle for ages. The others, including Minerva's youngest brother, referred to him as Mr. Urquart or greeted him with silence.
He sat on the edge of a bed, sorting through things and placing them in cardboard boxes. A black dress lay on the bed. Minerva stood in front of an open wardrobe and showed him two plain dresses, a blue one and a red one. A sapphire ring, an heirloom, glittered on her left hand, and it matched the engagement band behind it. Whilst the one was less expensive, blue stones inlaid in silver, it did little to calm her nerves.
Elphinstone placed her Bible, a worn copy, in the larger cardboard box. Minerva clicked her tongue and showed him the dresses again. They had twenty minutes until the top of the hour. Why did women bother asking these things of men? Her father purchased Muggle clothing from the same shop. (His secretary or his housekeeper probably took care of this.) Whoever chose her attire, she certainly didn't think outside the box, though Minerva donned these clothes because they helped her in her act as the reverend's daughter whenever she headed back to Caithness.
He frowned, not wanting to disappoint her, for she already breathed sharply through her nose. Elphinstone hesitated, phrasing this carefully. "They're the same."
"Yes, I know," she said, hanging them both back in the wardrobe.
"Well, you can't wear black," he said, fingering the fine fabric of the one on the bed. It was silk and fell off the shoulder. When she frowned at him, her lips falling into the familiar severe line, he added, "It's a wedding not a funeral, Minerva. You're going to wish Aggie death on her wedding day? Wear one of those on Sunday."
"My father's going to have a heart attack when he sees this ring on my hand." She picked the blue one, placing it inside the large suitcase. She cast a Color Changing Charm and switched the black to a lilac shade. They always shared a bag when they took trips together because Minerva always packed light. After gathering her toiletries and checking the bedroom one last time, she zipped the suitcase and rested her hand on his chest. "This thing could feed a small country. The set? Elphinstone, this is ridiculous."
"You like it." Elphinstone took her hand and kissed it.
"It's beautiful." She sounded a little annoyed when he said nothing and buried his face in her neck. "You're not even listening to me."
Really, he only listened to her half the time, and half of that time, she knew it. As he held her, Elphinstone could hardly contain his happiness. They had exchanged vows. It had taken place in her office, the small room next to this one, but he would've married her in a rundown Muggle courthouse in the middle of nowhere for all he cared. It had taken years and years for him to get the answer he wanted, and she'd played the most difficult game of hard-to-get. She turned her back to him, probably lost in her thoughts when he pulled her closer.
"Did you at least get it insured?" She actually laughed when he snorted. Elphinstone was the utmost authority when it came to wills, trusts, and estates. Recently retired, he'd dedicated half a century of service to the Ministry of Magic, so he could draft documents for estates in his sleep. Minerva nodded. "Of course. Look who I'm talking to."
"The student wants to teach the teacher. What fun!" Elphinstone playfully nipped her throat and let her go.
He opened the suitcase and added his Mackintosh coat, a wedding gift, to their things, before closing it again. She had asked him to draft a prenuptial agreement because Minerva fretted over public opinion. Elphinstone, who could had been her father, for Robert McGonagall and Elphinstone were the same age, turned her down. Well, really, Elphinstone was a few weeks older, a fact he was always rather conscious about because it stayed in the back of his mind. He'd flat-out refused to the prenuptial agreement, though he agreed to let her keep her name. Never mind the fact that he wouldn't dare imagine telling Minerva he gave her permission to do anything. He'd simply be asking for it. After all, generations of students had always known her as Professor McGonagall. She was a feminist, like the majority of his female law students. The girls who "wanted" a law career usually left the moment they got married and got pregnant; the ones who played the game seriously married themselves to the exhausting eighty hour work weeks.
"So the agreement," said Minerva, grabbing her emerald-green traveling cloak and tossing it over the suitcase. She cycled back to a conversation they'd beat to death because it went nowhere. They'd stopped at an impasse. She lowered her voice and faced him, unhooking his trousers and pushing him onto the bed.
"Oh." Elphinstone's widened in surprise as she let her hair down. He flushed, embarrassed, because this honestly hadn't crossed his mind. He sighed when she leaned in to kiss him. He kissed her back, running his fingers through her hair. "Here? What about Agnes? We shouldn't do this."
"She'll be fine. Remember the first time we did this? You said you loved me."
Elphinstone nodded, recalling the memory like it was yesterday. She'd been nervous, shaking in her bones. He'd referred to it was her thirtieth birthday present, a mutual gift. Since that night, they'd often rented the same bedroom at the Three Broomsticks; they went from friends to lovers, passionate lovers, a compromise he'd enjoyed for quite some time. Yet Elphinstone couldn't help himself whenever he came back to the same question. He closed his eyes, sighing contentedly as they fell into what used to be a casual rhythm. He'd missed her.
"I called you a heartless nothing," he said remembering his aged insult. He hadn't popped the question or even draped her traveling cloak over her shoulders since that night. Elphinstone placed his hands on her hips, annoyed when he felt nothing. "I love you."
"Elphinstone." She sped things up, wrapped in her euphoria, Minerva moaned.
"I can't." Elphinstone wanted this and desperately cleared his mind. Frustrated, he waited another moment before giving up altogether. There was a knock on the office door. "I ...I can't."
"Please. Come on." Minerva shifted a little.
It did no good.
Discouraged, Minerva got up and fixed her robes before she passed a hand over her face and went to answer the door; the concealed wall separating the two rooms reappeared as Minerva passed over the threshold. Elphinstone remained on the bed, his face buried in his hands. Surely, this is what it felt to die of embarrassment, yet he knew this wouldn't truly kill him because it waited to haunt him until the end of his days. What sort of husband couldn't get an erection on his wedding night? Minerva kept him young, at least mentally or spiritually. Whenever they were together, the years faded away.
As he listened to her talk to some student, Elphinstone sat up and straightened his clothes. He rubbed his thumb against the plain wedding band. He was unashamedly the romantic in this duo. Minerva didn't really care for flowers, or grand gestures, and she downright hated Valentine's Day, a point she'd made all too clear the first time he'd proposed. That was almost thirty years ago. God, age had finally caught up with him; he felt it.
She came back into the bedroom and he fluffed the pillows for no reason at all. They had a bed waiting for them at the cottage. After Agnes's wedding, he'd meant to surprise her. He'd poured his heart and soul into that place, not to mention his money, especially when she'd said she didn't care where they lived.
"We're late," he said, crestfallen. He waved his wand over the suitcase and it disappeared.
Minerva stopped, apparently doing some quick thinking. "Elphinstone, I don't care. I love you."
"Of course." He decided to not look at her as he crossed the threshold into her office. "You'll be taking care of a feeble old man for the rest of your life, or until I die, but that counts."
"Well, that was short-lived." Minerva leaned against the wall, back to her brisk tone. When he mentioned the taking out for her niece, she took off her spectacles and cleaned them on a handkerchief. She raised a finger when he opened his mouth. "I swear to God, Elphinstone, if your next words have anything to do with an annulment or taking a step back, I will hurt you."
He shrugged, for she'd literally taken the words out of his mouth. He gave it another shot.
"You have got to be kidding me! September twenty-third is my wedding day. And you, you of all people, are ruining it. Is this about the papers? I've told you it means nothing. I don't even know why they care . I don't."
Elphinstone strode over to her, shutting her up with a kiss. He pressed against the wall, satisfied when she groaned and opened her legs. She wrapped her arms around his neck and dug her heels into his back, an attempt to jar his memory. She'd done that the first time, and he'd loved it.
"Anything yet?" She caught her breath, sighing when he shook his head. They acted like teenagers, and he smiled, doubting she made this connection when she started laughing, running her fingers through his white hair.
"What is it, my love?" Elphinstone didn't catch the joke.
"Oh, it's nothing. I was just thinking I'm glad there are other ways to give pleasure," said Minerva, straightening his tie and giving him a good, long kiss. "What're we going to tell Agnes? And you can't stay here."
"But...but we're married," he said, backing up when she pushed him towards the door, clearly enjoying this game. He frowned, lost at how the tables had turned so quickly, although he'd known this had been an unspoken rule for the longest time. She opened the door, and he backed into the corridor. "I sold my London flat. I'm homeless till Sunday."
This wasn't, strictly speaking, true. The keys to the Hogsmeade cottage were in his pocket because he'd had them since Monday.
"All your friends at the Ministry, all your lawyers, and you couldn't clear that up? That sounds like a stupid mistake and a personal problem, Mr. Urquart. Good night."
When he made it to the bottom of the Grand Staircase, hearing the rain outside, he spotted Agnes by the front doors. A chamber pot hung from her hand, pocket change jiggling inside it. She wore a plain dress, a yellow one, and looked completely out of place as students rushed up the staircase. The wedding was on Saturday, two days from now, although they had planned her taking out, the hen's night, for this evening because it was a lighter night at the Three Broomsticks. Why wasn't she there with her friends? She wasn't a drinker, something Elphinstone knew from experience because he'd poured her a glass of cognac on her seventeenth birthday, and she'd looked at him like he'd lost his mind.
Her father, Robert, he'd learned later, drowned everything in drink; everything was a cause for celebration to that man. Robert was actually one of those who would forever refer to Elphinstone as Mr. Urquart. This suited him fine. In Elphinstone's opinion, Minerva's youngest brother reminded him, Elphinstone, of a pigeon because he shit on absolutely everything.
"Aggie." Elphinstone read the panic and confusion on her face. Without bothering to ask, for he thought he knew whatever this was about, he steered her towards her aunt's door. Agnes had left the same man at the altar once before a few years ago. Whilst Christopher didn't leave her, for he loved her and shared a daughter with her, Agnes panicked over the thought of "till death do us part." . Elphinstone banged on the office door. "Minerva? Minerva."
Agnes brushed her damp hair out of her eyes. "I'll go. It's nothing."
It was most definitely not nothing. She stood there shaking. He banged on the office door again, growing impatient. All professors, especially the Heads of House, kept an open door policy even at the end of the day, for there was always a chance of something happening.
Minerva opened the door, confused and surprised to see him again. Without saying a word, she waved them both inside and locked the door. She wore her tartan dressing gown and pointed her wand at the grate. A fire appeared.
"Agnes, sit down. You're going to catch your death." Minerva busied herself with making tea and fished for answers when Agnes decided she'd rather determinedly not look at her aunt. Elphinstone exchanged a look with his wife, and she rolled her eyes when he shrugged. Minerva handed over the tea and before she sat down behind her desk. She sounded kinder. "Agnes, you're doing it again."
Elphnstone watched Minerva sort through post in a wire basket. She opened one and tossed it into the wastebasket. "What's that?"
"Mr. Darcy wants to have lunch," she said carelessly. Mr. Darcy had presented himself as Minerva's critic in Transfiguration Today months ago. She set her competition aside for the moment. "Agnes?"
"What?" The teacup shook in Agnes's hands.
"Aggie," said Elphinstone. He stood behind her and rested his hands on her chair. What was the best way to explain this to her without any collateral damage? She wasn't a fool. Agnes was afraid of turning into her father, something that wasn't even there.
"I'm going to say something, and I don't want you to walk out." Agnes nodded Minerva took off her spectacles and took a deep breath. "If you leave Christopher again, he will not come back a third time."
"I wasn't ready," said Agnes, setting her tea on the desk.
"Minerva, that's not fair," said Elphinstone.
"Not fair? Agnes, you left him at the altar because you said you needed time and you didn't want to marry him because of a child. Ryan is his daughter, too." Minerva shook her head when Agnes said she understood, not believing word of it. "Forgive me, but what's different?"
"I love him." Agnes didn't hesitate.
"You think that's enough? You're that naive?" Minerva held up a hand to silence Elphinstone. "Your mother told me she loved you the day you were born, and she left you at the hospital."
Each time Elphinstone heard this story, he thought Agnes's strung-out birth mother might've told the truth.
She'd abandoned her child, and the reverend got landed with another daughter.
This hand gesture didn't usually work with him, and when Agnes turned to face him, desperate for an ally, he couldn't help but think this was indeed the pot calling the kettle black. Minerva saw no parallel, yet he saw it was clear as day. How many times had he asked for her hand? Seven or eight? Sure, he'd been persistent, sometimes outright stupid to return to her.
Agnes shook her head, gripping the arms of the chair. "You don't understand."
"Agnes, come on, I was you." Minerva stopped, no doubt playing back the words she'd said through her mind.
Elphinstone inhaled sharply through his nose and pressed two fingers to his temple. Even if either of them tried to backtrack out of this, a technique he'd mastered as an accomplished lawyer, the damage had already been done. Agnes's brown eyes widened in surprise.
"Don't tell your grandfather. Christ, that's not what I meant." In fact, she hadn't meant to say that at all. With nobody out there to save her, Minerva continued cautiously, "I could've easily been you, Agnes, it only takes once."
Elphinstone coughed and cleared his throat. "Until it happens again, that is."
Agnes thanked him quietly. Minerva said nothing, and Agnes actually laughed, skeptical, her eyes darting between them. "Wait a moment. You two ... I never would've thought ...Seriously?"
"I'm a schoolteacher not a nun, thank you." Minerva got to her feet, half-glancing at Elphinstone, asking him not to interrupt. "I'm not saying get married or don't get married, Agnes, I'm telling you to not play with emotions or string anyone along. It's cruel."
Elphinstone gave her a small smile. They said nothing for a few minutes.
"So, you got married," said Agnes conversationally, deciding to drop the subject. She held out her hand, and Minerva walked over and placed her hand in hers. Scrutinizing the ring, she whistled, turning to Elphinstone. "Damn it, uncle, did you take out a mortgage to afford this? This is ...I don't know... for royalty."
"Get used to hearing question, sir," said Minerva, taking Agnes's hand and leading her into her bedroom. When she came back into the office, Minerva opened the door for him, saying they'd see each other in the morning, and Elphinstone kissed her, wishing her good night.
Saturday morning passed in a blur once they reached Caithness. Minerva dove into wedding preparations; Agnes disappeared altogether, dragging her little daughter along with her. Elphinstone did his best to stay out of the way, for he was essentially a guest at the manse. Despite the fact that it was a small, private ceremony, there seemed to be endless things to do before showtime at one o'clock.
Elphinstone spent time with Malcolm, Minerva's younger brother, the middle child in the family. A quiet man, Malcolm worked as a foreign correspondent for publications like the Daily Prophet and Transfiguration Today. They'd met before, of course, although there were admittedly lengthy breaks in between, so it often felt like they met each other again. Although he resembled his sister, Malcolm carried his weight around his middle and enjoyed a good talk and a nice smoke. When the met in the garden, taking their seats, he shook a pack of cigarettes at Elphinstone.
"Oh, no, thank you." Elphinstone declined, holding up his hand.
"Finally kicked the habit, have you? Good for you." Malcolm lit a cigarette and stuffed the rest into his pocket. They had all donned suits out of respect for their father, who got the honor of officiating the ceremony without having to be asked. "So, you finally got my sister to say yes, I hear. I only had to ask Anne once, for the record."
Elphinstone got the point. "Is Anne with you?"
"She's at home. Anne says it's going to rain, and we're stupid for not doing this at church." Malcolm glanced at the grey skies and checked the few rows of white chairs. "Where's my dear brother? His daughter getting married isn't enough reason to show his ugly face?"
"Hmmm." Elphinstone didn't think this worthy enough of a proper response.
A woman's father ought to set his differences aside and stand beside his daughter. Malcolm, Elphinstone was pleased to see, held this belief. Agnes had specifically asked Robert to be there, even though she hated the bastard seventy-five percent of the time, and he'd sent no owl in reply. Elphinstone doubted the man knew he had a granddaughter, never mind the one expected in the beginning of the year.
"Dad's going to kill him," said Malcolm, watching Christopher fidget by the altar. When Ryan came scurrying down the aisle, she made for her father, who shook his head. Elphinstone, apologizing to Malcolm as he passed, scooped up the little girl and headed back to his seat.
Elphinstone pecked her on the cheek and placed her on his lap when he sat down. "You sit with me."
A moment later, when the congregation stood, Ryan wrapped her arms around his neck. Playing his bagpipes, the Reverend McGonagall came first in semi-formal Highland dress. The man acted as though he had done this hundreds of times because he gave no hint of emotion as he played "Highland Cathedral."He was certainly the only fellow there in a charcoal kilt jacket, white shirt, and kilt. Obviously some of he parishioners sprinkled throughout the small crowd had seen this before. Elphinstone had not.
Agnes, dressed in a simple white dress, followed him, carrying a bouquet of irises and white heather, her arm looped through Minerva's. Minerva looked lovely in the lilac dress.
It was truly a sight.
Malcolm rubbed his fingers together, grinning at Elphinstone. "Whenever he puts on a show like this, whenever he agrees to going through with it, the costs for the ceremony practically doubles. It all goes towards the church, of course. Aren't you glad you're footing the bill?"
"What?" Elphinstone asked, listening to the reverend welcoming the guests. Reverend McGonagall exchanged his bagpipes for his Bible, and he switched from entertainer to minister flawlessly.
"It'll make sense later," said Malcolm, laughing at what Elphinstone assumed was some private joke. They sat down again. When Minerva took her seat between them, Malcolm draped his hand over her shoulder, preparing to light another smoke. "Sweet sister. Lovely to see you again."
Minerva took the cigarette and the lighter from him, nodding at their father. "During the ceremony? He's standing feet away from you, Malcolm."
"Missed you, too," Malcolm said dryly, taking another lighter out of his pocket and playing with it. "Whatever you say this afternoon or this evening, it doesn't matter because I'm the favorite son."
"You haven't any competition," she said, patting his knee, keeping her eyes on the young couple. "Robert is dead to me. He's not to ask me for anything. His daughter's wedding."
"I take it I'm the favorite brother, too? Excellent." Malcolm rested his right hand on top of hers. He waited some fifteen minutes until the end of the ceremony to break his news casually. "So, in regards to Transfiguration Today, would now be a bad time to mention the thorn in your side? Mr. Darcy?"
Minerva's eyebrows knitted together.
"Oh, sweet sister, so professional," said Malcolm, glancing at the sky as it started raining. They got to their feet as the reverend, the bride, and groom passed. Before they joined the queue, he leaned in closer to his sister and cleared his throat, lowering his tone. "Mr. Darcy? That's me."
Elphinstone, roaring with laughter, reached over Minerva and shook his brother-in-law's hand.
"Mr. Darcy. And you. Who's side are you on?" As Ryan ran off to join her parents, Minerva rounded on Elphinstone and punched him in the side before she strode into the manse.
"Lunch at the Cask and Kilt tomorrow afternoon after church? Two-thirty?" Malcolm threw out his invitation in a rush, and she slammed the door, pretending not to hear him. "Ah. Yeah, I should've left that out. Well, I'm going home."
Malcolm conjured a black umbrella. Near the manse, similar to why they wear Muggle clothing, the reverend's children, along with anyone in their company with magical ability, agreed to not preform magic within the county. Whilst Malcolm lived here, he followed the rules to the letter when it came to his father's domain like the church or the manse, though whatever he did within his own home was his business. He bent the rules here and there, proving he was his own man, and it was raining. He waved, stowing his wand back inside his jacket saying they'd see each other at church tomorrow. He lived ten minutes away.
"Malcolm." Elphinstone stuffed his hands in his pockets. Malcolm turned around, waiting. "Where's the Cask and Kilt?"
Malcolm talked animatedly with his fingers as he gave directions. "Couple miles that way, nestled between the post office and the bakery. We'll get Cranachan from the barmaid for dessert. You drink, don't you? You're married to Minerva, so I hope you do for your sake."
Elphinstone rolled his eyes. "Yes. Two-thirty."
Malcolm nodded, whistling as he headed down the road. Agnes once described her Uncle Malcolm as a big teddy bear, and Elphinstone thought he understood the reference. Malcolm and Anne had three children, two girls and a boy. Anne was a Muggle matron he'd met in Glasgow, and Malcolm acted as the glue holding the McGonagall family together. Ever since their mother had passed, whenever he wasn't on assignment overseas, Malcolm stayed close to his father.
Life filled the small house. When Minerva opened the back door, asking why he'd gone around the other way, Elphinstone took her in his arms and kissed her. The reverend, reading his paper and bouncing Ryan on his knee, pretended not to notice. He sipped his coffee. When Agnes shouted from the sitting room, laughing her head off with Christopher, he smiled for the first time that day.
"Do you want me to tell them to quiet down?" asked Minerva. The manse was usually a quiet place with one occupant.
"No. I like it. It's nice to have family around." Reverend McGonagall played with Ryan's hair.
Elphinstone hated to bring this up, but he didn't want to leave it for tomorrow when the reverend would be focused on the sermon and the parishioners. "How much do I owe you for the ceremony, sir?"
"Nothing," Reverend McGonagall said. He chuckled and asked Minerva to show him the coffee containers in the cupboard. Minerva followed his instructions and opened the top cupboards. There were at least thirty or forty containers, some of them with their lids off. Maybe the reverend was a hoarder? Elphinstone did not understand. "I have been saving for Minerva's wedding since she was five. Since the two of you decided to elope, and thank you for that, by the way, Elphinstone, I decided to focus on the granddaughter."
Elphinstone said nothing, rather touched by this gesture.
Agnes shouted again, this time in triumph, and the reverend said, "She found the key to the liquor cupboard. Agnes?"
"Yes?" Agnes called from the other room. She joined them a moment later with her husband and a bottle of unopened scotch.
"Clever girl, going for the aged stuff. Give it here, Aggie, and grab us some glasses." The reverend took off his spectacles and rubbed his tired eyes. Agnes handed it over and went to the cupboard to grab some shots glasses; the reverend took them and poured with a generous hand, holding the bottle to the light afterwards. "This is thirty years old, Aggie, it's older than you are. What are you doing with this?"
Minerva handed glasses to both Elphinstone and Christopher. "Where'd you get it?"
"Dunno," said the reverend carelessly, offering his shot glass to his granddaughter. "I don't know where half of the stuff in this house comes from. You know, you're mother's been dead for seven years and I haven't cooked a proper meal? Not once. Aggie. Taste this."
"Okay," said Agnes, hesitant.
"Daddy, she's pregnant," said Minerva.
"You call your father 'Daddy', Professor?" Christopher raised an eyebrow, fighting to keep a straight face.
"Yes," said Minerva testily, challenging him. "Ryan's going to call you 'Da' until the day you die."
"It's just a sip." The reverend cleared his throat and raised his glass, smiling at them."To a happy marriage."
"A happy marriage," they said, and drank.
After the reverend polished off the rest of Agnes's glass, he downed shot after shot with Minerva. Christopher, impressed, gaped at Minerva when she flipped her glass upside down on the table.
"You are so much cooler now we've left school," said Christopher.
"Christopher, Christopher." Minerva walked over to him and took his face in her hand. Agnes giggled like a schoolgirl. "Your eyes are really blue. I am so glad you're in the family."
"Me, too," said Christopher awkwardly, for she'd held his face at an odd angle.
Minerva patted his cheek and straightened. "I need fresh air."
Elphinstone fought hard not to crack a smile as he followed her outside. She said it was raining, which was obvious, although Elphinstone got halfway down the street before he realized he'd forgotten the umbrella. Thinking he was a drowned rat, anyway, he decided not to go back, though he had no idea where they were headed. He took her hand, surprised she didn't pull away, and turned to the left.
"You're going to get pneumonia." Minerva brushed her hair out of her eyes. Her dress, splattered and caked with mud, was ruined. She slipped off her heels, carrying them.
"Yet you're the one who walked out into the rain," he said, doubting she could see more than a few paces ahead. Slowly, he reached up, slid off her splattered spectacles, and slid them into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. "So the coffee containers?"
"It's sad and embarrassing, which is why I never told you." Minerva blushed. When he grinned, she rolled her eyes, stepping into the light. "But you're you, Elphinstone, so you probably think it's sweet and adorable."
"Absolutely adorable." He left her in no doubt. "Are you all right?"
Minerva nodded. Before he asked her why the hell she'd decided on a nighttime stroll in this weather, she stopped underneath a lamppost and pecked him with small kisses, insistent. When he started falling, slipping in the large puddle they stood in, she steadied him, switched her heels to one hand, and wrapped her arms around his neck. She pressed her lips against his again. Elphinstone's shoulders relaxed as a car zoomed past in the street. Giving the scotch credit, he stroked her face, wondering how much she'd remember. "There's a bed in our cottage," he murmured between kisses. If his dysfunction continued, he'd see a Healer about it, but until the rain let up he'd give her pleasure, as she'd mentioned, in other ways.
The rain continued until Tuesday afternoon.