Word Count: 637


It's raining when they put Dougal on the ground. Minerva thinks it's quite fitting. He always said that rain keeps food on the table, and all farmers should thank God for such a gift.

She wonders if he would find something beautiful in rain at a funeral.

A funeral she cannot even attend. Not really. Perhaps she could, but guilt keeps her far away, hidden among the trees. A spell could easily deflect the rain, but she opts for a black umbrella instead, just in case anyone notices her.

"I heard about the Mug…" Someone behind her clears his throat. "I heard about your friend."

Minerva doesn't have to turn to know that Abraxas Malfoy is standing behind her. That voice is so familiar that it has often woven itself into her dreams. She shivers; she cannot think about that now.

"Shouldn't you be home, Abraxas?" she asks dryly, her eyes focused on the gravedigger who begins to drop red clay until the hole. "I was under the impression that Acanthia never let you out."

"I thought you were kinder than that," he says softly, his words barely audible over the pouring rain. "I only wanted to comfort you. Do not break my heart, dear Minnie."

"I think you have no heart." She turns to face him at last. "And I had a mind once to give you mine."

Abraxas' lips curl into a smile, but she cannot quite read the expression. He reaches out, and she pulls away. Minerva knows what his touch does to her, and she cannot let him in again. The sting of his first betrayal is still too great, and some wounds will never heal.

"I want to fix things between us," he tells her.

Why does his voice have to smooth and velvety? Something stirs inside of her, something she hasn't dared to think about since leaving Hogwarts. Her eyes close. It isn't fair that he can have this effect on her. Years have passed, and she thinks she should be immune to him.

His hand rests on her waist, and it sends a shockwave through her body. The umbrella falls from her hand, landing on the wet ground at her feet. This is wrong. She is here to mourn for the man she once loved, and Abraxas is married. This shouldn't happen.

And yet, his lips meet hers, and she feels an eruption of butterfly wings inside her, tickling her stomach. She hasn't felt this way since her youth. But she knows it cannot last. At the end of the day, they have made their choices. He could have had her, and she could have been his. If only he hadn't followed his family's traditions.

She pulls away, clearing her throat as she retrieves her umbrella and holds it over her head once more. Despite the cold rain that still beads her skin, her cheeks are flushed with heat. "That was most inappropriate," she says, holding her head high and trying to maintain her dignity.

He smirks. "You didn't seem to mind," he says. "You always liked to pretend you were prim and proper, but that isn't quite true, is it? I've seen what happens when you allow yourself to let go and enjoy yourself."

"Those days are behind me," she says before offering him a polite nod. "If you will excuse, I have a meeting to attend."

She doesn't give him a chance to say anything else. If he opens his mouth, she knows it will be over. He will weave his spell, and she will fall in love all over again. She doesn't think she can bear another heartache, least of all from the same man who broke her heart so many years ago.

She's gone in an instant, trying to think of what they could have had.