Minerva checked over her reflection in the long mirror, more to make sure she had a tidy appearance than trying to look pretty. She smoothed the wrinkles and adjusted her glasses. She had every right to wear white, but she thought it more suiting for a woman her age to wear a cream-colored dress with the McGonagall tartan for a sash around her waist, simple and understated but suitable for a wedding.
"You look grand," Pomona said.
"We're too old of friends to deceive me," she returned dryly.
Pomona looked down at her yellow organza dress and clean fingernails and said with cheerful humor. "You look more at ease and elegant than I feel, and that's no lie."
"I told you that you didn't have to go to any special trouble to be my maid of honor."
"Of course, I did. It's not every day you get married."
There was a knock at the door. "Is everyone decent?" her father called.
Pomona opened the door. "As decent as we ever will be," she said with a chuckle.
"Mind if I have a word with my daughter?"
"Not at all. I'll just help Mrs. McGonagall make sure everything is running smoothly."
She was puzzled by his presence. He was walking her down the aisle, but that wasn't for another quarter of an hour. Perhaps he was here for a sermon on creating a lasting marriage though she had heard enough of those over the years while he stood at the pulpit. He intended to be here for a while because he got comfortable in one of the chairs.
"You almost got married before, didn't you?" her father asked, almost making her drop her bouquet in surprise.
"How did you know?"
"I was young once. I saw the signs. Why didn't you?"
"I didn't want to live a lie. I didn't want to be constantly at odds with my husband because we were too different. I didn't want him to regret marrying me."
"I can understand that, but I think you should have let him decide if he still wanted to marry you, knowing you're a witch, but I know wizardkind and their laws and all that, but I think when it forces dishonesty and breaks trust, the law should be changed. Of course, I know what mankind is like too. Maybe you did make the right choice. Who but God knows?"
She swallowed hard. Maybe it was past time to bring things out into the open as long as they were speaking of the past. "I saw how hard it was on you being married to a witch and having children who were not normal."
"Is that what you think? That's not it at all. I was worried about your safety. I love your mother, and I love my children. That didn't change. But I worried we would be found out and someone would come and whisk you all away.
"If there was tension between your mother and me, it was only because I was disappointed that your mother felt she had to hide things from me. And you children hid things from me as well."
"We didn't want to cause you stress. You had enough to worry about."
"But you can understand how it makes a man feel like an outsider in his own home. I wasn't a fool. I noticed more than you think."
Of course he did. Her father was every bit as clever and observant as she. "I'm sorry. We should have included you more with that side of things."
"My bonnie lass, if you believe anything, believe that I love you, and I wouldn't change a single hair on your head because that's the way the Lord God made you. I'm sorry if you didn't know that. If you children didn't know that." Her father didn't kid around.
It was the first time she'd heard that he loved her and didn't regret the way his life had turned out. "I did know you loved me. We all did. I love you."
That moment did something for her. Her two worlds became one world. She wasn't just a witch, and she wasn't just a Muggle. She was a half-blood and proud of it.
She took her father's arm and went with him to the sanctuary. She looked out over the room where she'd been baptized, confirmed, and now would be married. She felt very blessed indeed. Albus sat on the front pew with twinkling eyes and winked at her as if to say you've earned this.
Malcolm played their father's bagpipes. It had played many hymns over the years and now it played the wedding march.
She was no young bride, and she had never been beautiful even in her younger years, but with the look of awe and love Elphinstone gave her, she felt like the most beautiful bride there'd ever been.
She was not inclined toward romantic notions, but nevertheless, as they exchanged vows it felt like a dream. One from which she didn't want to wake.
When the visiting minister pronounced them man and wife before the sight of God, she was not Mrs. Urquart, but she was a married woman. She hadn't wanted to shun her Muggle name. It would have felt like losing a part of herself and like all they'd fought for was naught. She was a McGonagall, and she would always be.
After a sweet kiss, she turned to face the crowd. She couldn't help noticing the way her father and mother looked dewy-eyed at each other as if taken back to their own wedding vows.
Despite the lies and mistrust that started their marriage, love endured above all things. It endured through war, through broken dreams and regrets, through death, and through life into eternity.
The End
