PART II

"Dumbledore would have been happier than anybody to think that there was a little more love in the world."

26. Scottish Hearts

"That'll be £13,50, dear."

Minerva looked at the Muggle money in her hand to double-check that she would be handing over the correct amount. Her mother had asked her to go to the store to buy some groceries and she hadn't handled anything other than Galleons, Sickles and Knuts in a while. She didn't want to make an embarrassing mistake.

"Didn't they teach you how to add up at that fancy school of yours?" Somebody asked her, interrupting her train of thought.

Her brow furrowed, Minerva turned around. Behind her in line stood a young man of her height and age with messy dark hair, sparkling brown eyes and a huge grin on his face. He had his hands in the pockets of his dirt-stained trousers. It took a few seconds, but then his name came back to Minerva. Dougal McGregor, son of Lachlan McGregor, who owned a farm not too far from the manse. Minerva had known the McGregors all her life, but she hadn't spoken to them in what felt like ages. Dougal's cheek sparked a memory, though.

"Actually, no, they didn't. I learned that in Mrs Thomson's class. At least I would have if her lessons hadn't been constantly interrupted," Minerva replied.

Dougal's smile widened, if that was even possible. "You remember me."

"No, I remember a lad who couldn't sit still or be quiet." Her time before Hogwarts when Minerva had still gone to the local school with all the other children in the village now felt like a distant memory from a very different life.

"And I remember a lass who'd jump up and down in her seat because she had to answer every single question." Dougal cocked his head. "Do you still do that?"

"I'm not six anymore. So no."

"Except, you just answered my question and I did see a little bounce in your step," Dougal pointed out with a lopsided grin.

Despite herself, Minerva had to suppress a smile. "I see you still haven't learned to be quiet."

Dougal shrugged. "I just have so much to say. Would be a shame not to."

"That," Minerva snorted, "is debatable."

"Excuse me, dear, but are you going to pay for this now?"

Minerva shot an apologetic look at Mrs Murray, who owned the store with her husband. "Yes, of course. I'm sorry."

"Oh no, it's so nice to have you home, dear."

Without pointing out that she was only back for the summer, Minerva handed over the money. Mrs Murray took it and pushed the grocery back towards her in exchange.

"Here, let me," Dougal offered and reached for the bag.

But Minerva swatted his hand away. "I can carry my own groceries, thank you." She took the bag and left the store.

She had only started on the path back to the manse when Dougal caught up with her. "So, is that what they taught you at that school of yours? How to look good while you're carrying your own groceries?" he asked. "Then I'd say that the reverend really got his money's worth."

Minerva rolled her eyes in annoyance. "The only one who got something out of it was me as it was my education, not my father's."

There was a short pause. "You really liked it there, didn't you?"

Surprised, Minerva met Dougal's openly curious gaze. "Yes, I really did." There was no harm in telling him that much about Hogwarts.

"But it's still nice to be home, isn't? No place like it and all that." He winked at her.

Minerva sighed. It was sweet that everyone treated her like the prodigal son, or daughter, but she felt a twinge of guilt every time. No one in the village seemed to realise that she wasn't here to stay. They didn't know the truth about Hogwarts, but even so, it was ridiculous that they all seemed to think that she had got a first-class education at an English boarding school only to spend the rest of her life in Caithness.

"Okay, that took too long," Dougal said when Minerva still hadn't answered. "You can't hesitate like that when other people ask you that question or they might burn you at the stake."

It was just a silly joke, but Minerva winced nevertheless. If only he knew that he was talking to a real witch... Actually, imagining the look on his face was kind of funny.

When Dougal saw the small smile on her lips, he said, "You think you're safe from being burned at the stake because you're the reverend's daughter, don't you?"

"Something like that," Minerva replied, amused.

"Ah, but you have to act like it, too. A reverend's daughter would know everyone in the village."

"I do know everyone in the village!" Minerva had no idea why she let him bait her, but it was too late now.

Dougal's eyes gleamed. "Then who's Rosie?"

"Rosie?" Minerva repeated helplessly. No last name. That wasn't fair.

"Whose relatives are staying over at the Old Mill right now?"

"Um..."

"And what's the name of the Campbells' new bairn?"

Minerva's eyes widened. "The Campbells had a baby?"

"Aye, your father did the baptism last month," Dougal told her.

"Well, I wasn't here then, was I?"

"Nope. You weren't." Dougal looked triumphant. Minerva's amusement shifted back to annoyance and she picked up the pace.

Dougal matched it easily. "But that's okay. I can get you back up to speed."

It was a pathetic ploy to keep her talking, but she was actually curious. Minerva knew that the Campbells had wanted a baby for a long time. She really should go and congratulate them. "Is it a boy or a girl?"

"A wee lass. Name's Rhona."

"That's a beautiful name," Minerva said more to herself than to him.

"It was on my list, too," Dougal nodded.

Dubiously, Minerva arched an eyebrow. "You have a list of baby names?"

"Technically, it's a list of names for when we have calves," he said, then grimaced. "Not that lasses and cows are the same thing... But, er, we have some very beautiful cows, and I like to name them because, well, bulls are terrible fathers," he finished lamely and Minerva burst out laughing.

He looked sheepish but buoyed by her laughter.

"So who is staying at the Old Mill?" Minerva asked.

"Barbara Brown's entire extended family. It's her 80th birthday tomorrow."

"Right." Perhaps Minerva should start a list, too, with the names of people she needed to talk to before she left again.

The manse was beginning to come into sight now. "Okay, so who's Rosie?" Minerva asked quickly.

Dougal slowed his pace and shook his head. "Nope. I can't do all the work for you. But you ken where to find me if you need a clue!" He flashed her a smile and turned around to walk back in the direction they had just come from.

Her mother was already waiting when Minerva entered the house. "What took you so long?"

"I wasn't long," Minerva protested as she handed over the groceries. "Do you know who Rosie is?"

"Rosie? No, never heard of her," Isobel said distractedly.

Curious, Minerva thought. As the wife of the only minister in town, her mother usually knew all the women who lived here, and Rosie was definitely not a boy's name...

"Minerva?"

"Huh?" She snapped back out of her musings. "Yes, sorry?"

"I asked if you could help me make these pies," her mother repeated her request.

Minerva tried not to make a face. She was happy to spend one more summer at home with her family before she would move to London and start her new job at the Ministry. But she wasn't excited about helping with all the cooking. She had got very lazy at Hogwarts when it came to household chores. Especially when they needed to be performed without a wand.

"Of course," she said, thinking that, starting tomorrow, she would ask her father if he needed help with his sermons or any other church business. Also, he would have to know who this Rosie was.

Isobel smiled at her as if she had read her thoughts. "Don't worry, I won't keep you all day. In fact, I've been meaning to tell you that there's going to be a dance in the town hall this weekend. You should go."

Minerva grimaced. "I don't like dancing."

"You're eighteen, Minerva. You should enjoy anything that's not staying at home with your parents," Isobel said and Minerva knew better than to argue with that tone.

On Saturday both of her parents practically kicked her out of the house to go to that silly dance. But Minerva was okay with going because she was still looking for an answer to a certain question. Junior had wanted to come to, but he had decided last minute that there would only be old people there, which made it no fun. Malcolm had never been interested in going to begin with because he said that it sounded boring. Also, he was scared of girls. Bless him.

So there was no need to chaperon her brothers. It turned out that there were not only old people at the dance after all. But there were a lot of them, and they all wanted to talk to Minerva. It took her a while to find the one person she had actually been hoping to meet at this dance.

"There is no Rosie around here," she told Dougal.

He was wearing a green plaid shirt and clean trousers tonight, but his hair was still messy. Minerva had let down her own hair as well because it went well with her dress, which also happened to be green. It brought out her eyes and she really liked the colour, so she had decided to reclaim it. It didn't solely belong to Slytherin.

"Sure there is," Dougal replied brightly when he saw her.

"Then she's not coming to church," Minerva insisted.

Dougal grinned. "I never said she was."

"But everyone in the village is going to church."

"Everyone on two legs maybe," he nodded, laughing now. "But seeing as Rosie is a hamster..."

Minerva felt the urge to punch him. "You had me wasting my time looking for a rodent?"

"No, I just asked you a question. It's not my fault that you need to have all the answers."

Unfortunately, there was some truth to that, so Minerva merely turned away, huffing in annoyance.

"Hey," Dougal quickly stepped into her path, "I'll make it up to you. Dance with me?"

"I don't dance," Minerva said automatically.

Dougal held out his hand. "Never too late to start."

Suddenly Minerva flashed back to a Slug party a few years ago when Professor Dumbledore had said something very similar. It was probably the shock of that memory that caused Minerva to agree and take Dougal's hand.

They danced and Minerva fully expected it to be as awful and uncomfortable as she remembered. But there was no painful stepping on toes and no awkward silence. She just moved when Dougal's body told her to move and smiled when his lips did the same, which was all the time.

It felt as though she was having an out-of-body experience. Her heart was throbbing and her hands were sweating and she noticed the most inconsequential things –how much space there was left between them and how Dougal's hand on her back seemed to drift lower with every song. Then the music slowed and before she knew it, they were all squished together. Minerva had never been so aware of her breasts and she had never felt a man's heart beat so close to hers. Her brain thought that this wasn't enough personal space at all.

Her heart told it to shut up.

Minerva didn't know what time it was, but it was dark and the dance had ended an hour ago when Dougal finally walked her home.

"You don't have to come all the way to the house with me," she told him. Her parents were probably in bed already and she didn't have a curfew anymore. But that didn't mean there wouldn't be questions.

"Why not?"

"Because my father wouldn't like it." Minerva felt silly saying that, but it was a good enough excuse, and perhaps also true.

"He doesn't like his daughter getting home safe?" Dougal asked.

"No, he doesn't like smart-mouthed men coming after his daughter to..." Minerva faltered.

Dougal jumped on it immediately. "To what? Court you? You think I'm courting you?" He laughed. "Perhaps I was just raised right and ken better than to let a lassie wander alone in the dark. That doesn't mean I'm planning to spend the rest of my life with you."

"Good, because you're a fool if you think that it makes any difference if it's a woman or a man wandering alone in the dark. I don't need your protection," Minerva snapped.

"Maybe I need yours then," Dougal said simply.

Caught off guard, Minerva fell silent. He had no idea how true that was. Not right now, because right now her wand was locked up in her room, but in general.

"I was just kidding," Dougal continued in what for him was a serious tone. "You were right. Of course I am."

"You're what?" Minerva asked, barely in control of the words her lips were forming. "A fool or planning to spend the rest of your life with me?"

Dougal's expression morphed into a boyish smile and he stole the quickest of kisses from her. "We'll see."

Next morning Minerva watched distractedly as the church slowly filled for the Sunday morning service. She told herself that she didn't know what or whom she was waiting for, but her heart skipped a beat when he walked in.

She quickly headed over to him before he could reach her father. "Where are you going?" He looked even cleaner and more dressed up this morning than he had last night for the dance.

"To church like everyone else," Dougal gave the obvious answer to her rather obvious question. "I need to talk to your father, don't I?"

"Don't you dare!" Minerva hissed. That was exactly what she had been afraid of.

"Relax. He's your father, but he's my reverend. I can talk to him whenever I want. About a lot of things."

"Then why weren't you here last week?"

"Couldn't make it." Dougal shrugged. "And I didn't ken you were back," he smiled and reached out to hold her hand.

Minerva snatched it back. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Proving myself to you. Isn't that what the stable boy does in the fairy tales to win the princess?"

Minerva snorted. "Life is not a fairy tale."

"It can be," Dougal insisted.

"How?"

"When you find the one who's meant to be your happy ending," he said, and he actually said it with a straight face and looked her right in the eye.

Minerva should have laughed in his face, but she found herself unable to speak and she nearly jumped into the air when his body brushed against hers on his way to take a seat. The light touch was enough to set her nerves on fire.

She didn't hear a single word of what her father said in his sermon that day.

After the service Minerva stood next to him outside the church as everyone was leaving and stopping for a moment to say goodbye or to chat with the reverend. Minerva's contributions to those conversations were rather monosyllabic. Until Dougal was the one to come up to them.

"That was a beautiful sermon, Reverend," he said, and Minerva narrowed her eyes at him. Had he actually been listening? Was she the only one losing her mind?

"Thank you. I'm glad to see you back this week. How is your father?" Reverend McGonagall asked.

"Still too sick to come to church, but the doctor said he should get better soon," Dougal replied.

Minerva felt as though someone had doused her with cold water, which was just what she needed, but she wished it hadn't come in the form of bad news. How did she not know that Dougal's father was sick?

"I'll try to swing by the farm soon for a visit," Robert said thoughtfully. "I won't make it today... but we have a wonderful soup left over from last night. I'm sure that would do Lachlan some good. Minerva, why don't you go with Dougal and bring it over?"

"What?" she snapped way too loudly. Her father gave her a funny look. "Oh, of course."

Once again, Minerva headed towards the manse with Dougal in tow.

"So, I'd say your father likes me just fine," he said, clearly amused.

"He just doesn't know yet," Minerva replied.

"He doesn't ken what?" Dougal asked quickly. "Are you saying there's something to ken about us?" He pointed at the space between the two of them and then closed that space by deliberately bumping into her shoulder.

"No, there isn't, because you'd rather talk to me about hamsters than your sick father," Minerva said with no hint of amusement in her voice.

Dougal sobered as well. "Everyone wants to talk to me about that all the time. It was nice that you didn't ken. It allowed me to think of something else for a change and have some fun." He winced and stuck his hands into his pockets. "That sounded selfish."

Minerva looked at him and then she slipped her arm through the bend of his. "No. It doesn't."

Dougal brightened up, and after they had collected the pot with the soup, they made their way to the McGregors' farm. Minerva knew where it was, but she had never been there before. The farmhouse was bigger than she had thought it would be. There was room for a much larger family here. But Dougal was the McGregors' only child.

"I'll check if he's awake," Dougal said, climbing a flight of stairs to the upper floor. "Could you heat up the soup?"

Minerva was about to make a snarky comment as to why he thought it was her job to do the cooking, but she didn't want to raise her voice in a house of someone who was ill. She carried the pot into the kitchen and wished for her wand. Then she mentally chided herself. She could heat up some soup without magic! It couldn't be more difficult than becoming an Animagus.

A couple of minutes later she followed Dougal up the stairs, carrying a tray with a steaming bowl, some bread she had found and a cup of tea. A door at the end of the hall was open and Minerva entered the room behind it. Lachlan McGregor was lying in a comfortable looking bed, but he tried to sit up when he saw her.

"Dougal, you didn't tell me we had a visitor!" he complained and began to cough.

Dougal quickly rose from the edge of the bed where he had been sitting to take the tray from Minerva. "The reverend wanted to come, but he can't make it today, so he wanted you to have some soup at least," he explained, setting down the tray on the bed.

"And a personal delivery by his daughter, too," Lachlan laughed when he had recovered from his coughing fit. His laughter sounded very similar, though. "Good lad, our reverend. Don't ken anyone better."

He was looking at Minerva when he said that. "Thank you, sir," she replied.

"Don't you 'sir' me. I've known you since you were a wee lass. So they finally let you out of that special school of yours, did they?"

"Yes, I just graduated," Minerva nodded.

"Very good. I'm sure your parents are glad to have you back home. There's nothing like being with family." He smiled at his son, who squirmed under the intensity of his father's gaze, but Minerva thought it was sweet.

"We should let you eat in peace," Dougal said, ushering Minerva out of the room.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do, son!" Lachlan hollered after them, which ended in another coughing fit.

Minerva must have looked worried because Dougal said, "It sounds worse than it is. At least that's what the doctor said."

She didn't immediately respond because she couldn't help but wonder if the healers at St Mungo's or even Madam Hailstone would be able to heal Lachlan as easily as they had always taken care of Minerva's injuries. It made her angry that it wasn't even an option.

"This will be my farm one day, but not just yet," Dougal added when Minerva still hadn't said anything.

They had taken the stairs back down into the hallway. "Then you want to stay here and keep running the farm like your father?" "It was my grandfather who built it, actually, and I want to keep it going, aye. I always wanted to, really. But not alone. Losing Mother was… hard enough."

"When did she die?" Minerva asked softly.

"Two years back."

Now that he mentioned it, Minerva did remember her mother telling her about the funeral in a letter. But at the time Minerva had been too busy studying for the O.W.L.s to think about it much, and she hadn't been home for Easter either. Of all the things she had missed while she had been away at school, this felt like the worst.

"I'm sorry," she said and took Dougal's hand to squeeze it.

"Not your fault." He looked down at their intertwined fingers and cheered up almost instantly. "So, do you want to help me milk some cows?"

"Uh…" said Minerva.

That was all she managed before Dougal used the fact that they were now holding hands to pull her out of the house and into the stables.

Minerva wasn't quite sure what was happening, but all of a sudden she was squatting next to a cow and she had her hands wrapped around two of its teats. She felt awkward squeezing them, especially since nothing happened. The cow seemed rather unimpressed.

As did Dougal. "Wow, you're really bad at this," he observed.

"Well, funnily enough, milking cows was not part of the curriculum at my school either," Minerva defended herself. She wondered if there was a spell, though.

"Then what exactly did you learn there?" Dougal asked as he grabbed a stool to sit next to her.

Minerva shot him a look. "Because adding up groceries and doing chores on a farm are the only things worth teaching to a woman?"

"No, because you haven't talked about what you want to do now that you're out of school," Dougal explained and wrapped his hands around hers to show her how to properly wrap her thumb and forefinger around the base of the cow's teat. "I know that smart head of yours must be bursting with ideas."

When Minerva had overcome her surprise about his words and his touch, she said, "I want to do some good in the world."

"Specify," Dougal said, revealing an unexpected sharpness of his interest and his intellect.

"Things aren't… right." Minerva wondered how else to phrase this in a way that Dougal would understand without actually knowing about the existence or the problems of the wizarding community. "People aren't treated the same because we always choose to see how we are different rather than how we are the same. At best, people react with distaste, at worst with violence. But we could learn not to fear what we don't understand and most importantly not to hate. We could choose to…"

"… love?" Dougal offered when Minerva had paused.

Her stomach did a little somersault because Dougal had stopped trying to teach her how to milk the cow, so now they were just holding hands again and sitting with their faces really close together – well, close to each other and to the cow's udder.

"Aye, we could choose to love," Minerva agreed softly and then she squeezed with her thumb and forefinger and squirted milk into Dougal's face.

He roared with laughter, which made Minerva laugh as well, and they didn't stop laughing for the rest of the day while they did multiple chores around the farm. When Minerva was thoroughly out of breath from chasing chickens around the coop, she looked warily at Dougal's outstretched hand.

"Don't worry. No more work today. I haven't shown you my favourite spot on the farm yet."

Minerva took his hand and he led her over to the barn. She saw an old tractor and other farm equipment, but Dougal indicated that she should climb up the ladder to the hayloft. There was more than just hay up there. Next to a charming window that offered a nice view of the surrounding fields, there was a cosy little sofa, a makeshift bed made out of a bunch of blankets and pillows, a small table with stacks of books and an easel with some painting utensils.

"Welcome to my humble sanctuary," Dougal said, and it was unmistakable that this was his happy place.

"Sanctuary from what?" Minerva asked as she inspected some of the book titles.

"Everything, I guess." Dougal shrugged. "No one but me ever comes up here."

Minerva put The Wizard of Oz back onto the table. "I'm here."

Dougal grinned broadly. "Aye, you are."

Minerva broke eye contact first to look at the easel. "You paint?"

"I dabble," Dougal amended while Minerva walked over to some of the paintings and drawings that were stacked up there. "It's a good way to clear my head."

Most paintings showed the view out of the barn window at different times of the day and in the year. Except for one. "That's me!" Minerva gasped.

"Blimey! Forgot that was there." Dougal quickly stepped up to her to pry the drawing out of her hands before she had time to look at it more closely.

"Don't I have a right to see my own painting?" Minerva asked.

Dougal dumped it somewhere behind his back. "Nope. It doesn't really look like you."

"Well, I did recognise myself," she argued.

"But you shouldn't have. It's not nearly as enchanting as the original."

Minerva looked into his eyes that had the colour of molten chocolate and she knew this time she wouldn't have the strength to look away again. Or the will. Although the word "enchanting" had very different meanings for the two of them. Right now, none of that seemed to matter.

They held each other's gaze for no more than a couple of seconds before Dougal took her face in his hands and kissed her. He wasn't careful or shy about it like last night. This kiss was deep and searching and something inside of Minerva answered. All the rest of it just fell away.

Minerva had meant to spend the summer reading up on wizarding law and Ministry history and procedure. Instead, she spent all of her time at the McGregors' farm. She told her parents that she was helping out over there because Lachlan was still mostly bed-ridden.

And she really was helping out. She was practically an expert at milking cows by now. After all, Minerva was still a quick study and always willing to learn. And Dougal loved to teach her. He even showed her how to drive the tractor, which was a very memorable afternoon for both of them. But it wasn't really about the farm work.

They also laughed and argued and danced and touched and kissed and did things Minerva would never ever tell her father about.

The weeks were flying by and for the first time ever Minerva had stopped thinking.

When it came to love, she had always felt as if she was standing on the outside looking in, watching her parents or Augusta, sometimes confused, sometimes appalled and sometimes envious that they seemed to be completely engulfed in an emotion that was entirely foreign to her.

She knew how to love, of course. She loved her parents and her brothers and her friends, and she was passionate about things, about Transfiguration and Quidditch and speaking up when other people were content to just look away. But despite all that love and passion, she had never had the faintest idea how to be in love with someone. Eventually, she had told herself that her heart was simply too smart to allow anyone to steal it.

As it turned out, she hadn't been smart at all. Just the opposite. She had been oh so dumb. Love wasn't thinking or analysing or studying. Love was when all of that went away. When the world just went quiet. Minerva had never known anything more beautiful.

"I've been thinking I should come to church tomorrow."

They were up in the hayloft that was now not only Dougal's happy place but their shared happy place. Minerva was wrapped in a blanket because the evenings were getting chilly and she was lying on a bunch of pillows on the floor, reading. Dougal was standing next to the window. He had wanted to paint the sunset, but he lowered his brush.

Minerva looked up, her brow knitted in confusion. "You come to church every Sunday."

"Aye, but I meant I should come to church to talk to your father."

Minerva's book fell out of her hands and landed on the floor with a heavy thud. Before she could pick it up or think to do or say anything else, Dougal crouched in front of her.

"I ken you don't think that he has the right to make decisions for you, and I respect that. But I really, really need to tell him that I'm madly in love with his daughter. It's only right."

He anxiously searched her face for a reaction. Minerva waited for panic or anger or some kind of argument to rise up within her, but it didn't. Eventually, she nodded. "Okay."

"Okay?" Dougal echoed, his whole face lighting up.

"Yes, it's time to tell him," Minerva agreed.

She was running out of excuses as to why the McGregors needed her help on the farm. There were a lot more qualified people in the village they could have asked. Generally, her father approved of his children doing a good deed. He had encouraged them to help others since they were old enough to walk. But since neighbourly help wasn't actually Minerva's primary motive, it felt like she was constantly lying. At the very least, she hadn't told either of her parents the whole truth about her and Dougal. It was time to tell them something.

"Good," Dougal nodded excitedly. "And if that goes well, I think we should tell everyone. So we can invite them."

"Invite them to what?" Minerva asked, eyebrows raised. People in the village could be very judgmental and they rarely kept their opinions to themselves.

Dougal looked perfectly unconcerned, he just looked happy, almost deliriously so. "Our wedding."

Minerva's heart stopped. She couldn't breathe and she could certainly no longer lie here like it was just another lazy Saturday night. She had no idea what the right thing to do was when your life was about to change forever, but lying on the floor of a barn wasn't it. She threw off the blanket and scrambled to her feet. Dougal helped her, also standing up and holding her hands.

He used her speechlessness to say, "I told you once that I didn't ken yet if I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, but I did. I did ken ever since that day I saw you at the store and you refused to let me carry your groceries. I figured that now that you were finally back home from school for good, I had this one chance."

She should have stopped him there, but she couldn't. He had already dropped down on one knee.

"Minerva, will you please allow me to not carry your groceries but to love you, love you forever, and do me the incredible honour of becoming my wife?"

Once again Minerva waited for the arguments to come. And they did. She was only eighteen years old; she barely knew what love was; how was she supposed to know how marriage worked? But then they just went away again. Instead, there was this beautiful quiet. The quiet of loving – loving the way her hand felt in Dougal's and the look of joy and hope in his eyes, and just loving to love and be loved.

Minerva heard herself say, "Yes."

Dougal blinked as though he couldn't believe it either, but then he jumped back up and he swept her off her feet. They were up in the air, kissing, and then back on the floor, kissing, and Minerva was completely swallowed up by her emotions.

It was at least two hours later when she finally walked home. It hadn't been easy to leave. Dougal had wanted to come. He had begged her to let him come. But Minerva had decided that she would go and tell her parents alone. She was an adult woman and she had made the decision to marry and so she should also be the one to tell them.

In that moment Minerva saw it all in her mind's eye. How her father would be so proud to be the one to marry her and Dougal in his church. They would live on the McGregors' farm, which wasn't far from the manse, so Minerva could have tea with her mother regularly. Which would be nice, especially once she'd be pregnant with their first child. Perhaps there would even be a second or a third child, and their children would grow up Scottish and happy and so very loved.

But then Minerva entered her parents' house to angrily raised voices. She didn't know what had happened exactly, but she got the gist of it. Malcolm had broken the old grandfather's clock that didn't belong to the family but to the manse, to the church. It had been the single most valuable thing in the entire house. Her father was upset, Malcolm was crying and her mother was somewhere in between the two.

It was completely ridiculous because Minerva could have fixed the whole thing in three seconds. And so could her mother.

Except.

Their wands were locked away. Her father wouldn't like it. The neighbours could see... It was all lies and shame and secrecy.

And Minerva's vision of her future with Dougal shattered into a thousand little pieces.

She had just learned another lesson about love. It was truly blind. So blind that she had overlooked that Dougal did not know who she truly was.

Even if she told him, even if he loved her still, his life was on his farm, her life was in London. He couldn't come and she couldn't stay. To stay would mean that her wand would have to stay locked up as well. And to teach her own children to lie.

It wasn't even a choice. Because Minerva had already made that choice a long time ago.

She was not her mother. She would never be her mother.

But she cried. She stood there in the doorway and cried about the injustice of it all.

If she could only be Minerva McGonagall or be in love with Dougal McGregor, but she was now both, and she couldn't go back on either one of those, then who the bloody hell was she?

The answer, she supposed, was neither.

Minerva cried and hid in her room all night until it was early enough in the morning for a farmer to rise. She snuck out of the house and walked over to the McGregors' farm. It was the same path she had taken last night, but it felt twice as long now.

Dougal was already up and he saw her coming and ran towards her. Minerva couldn't stop him from pulling her into his arms to kiss her. It took all of the little strength she had left to physically push him away from her.

That's when he noticed the defeated look in her eyes, red-rimmed from crying and completely empty.

"What happened?" Dougal asked, worried but willing to fight. "Did you tell Robert? Did he say no? I should have talked to him first! I'm sorry, Minerva. I will fix this."

Now Dougal was the one pulling away, ready to storm off, and Minerva had to hold on to him, which was all kinds of cruel. "No, Dougal, wait."

"Don't worry. I'll talk to him man to man," Dougal said, not listening. "I've been up all night thinking about this. I may be just a simple Scottish farmer, but I have something to offer you. I own this farm and this land and when we marry, I want you to own half. And I have some money saved up. I don't ken what that school of yours costs, but I'll make sure our kids will be able to go there, too..."

Minerva desperately wished for a Killing Curse to hit her and put her out of her misery. Nothing could have hurt more than this. "My father didn't say no," she managed.

Dougal paused. "He didn't?"

"No, he still doesn't know."

"Oh, good, then I can..." He faltered when it began to dawn on him that if it wasn't her father...

"I'm saying no," Minerva said softly.

"But... no... you just have cold feet," Dougal replied after he had overcome some of his initial shock. "This was all too fast. We can go slower. We can just be engaged for a while..."

Minerva shook her head. "I'm leaving, Dougal. I have a job in London."

He looked as if she had punched him in the face. "What... job?"

"I..." She had been about to say that she couldn't tell him, but even saying that would have been suspicious. "That's not important right now, but it's what I've been working for all my life." He knew that she had graduated top of her class, so really this shouldn't have come as such a shock. In fact, now that they were here, Minerva had no idea how they had managed never to talk about this all summer.

Dougal seemed to think the same thing. "Aye... well... you'll be coming home on the weekends, right? Or I could come to London..."

"Dougal, you can't leave the farm..."

"I'll hire someone. I'll make it work!"

"No! You can't come and visit me in London!"

"Why not?"

"Because... because it's over, Dougal."

"But last night you wanted to marry me! That doesn't make any sense!"

I know it doesn't make any sense! It doesn't make any sense to me either! Minerva wanted to yell. What little sense it did make, she couldn't tell him because then she would be breaking the International Statute of Secrecy, which meant that she would be losing the very job she was leaving him for!

She tried to take a breath. "Last night I didn't think properly. We had deluded ourselves into thinking that this could work. It's only been a few months and we're very young..."

"Do you love me?" Dougal cut her off.

"I..."

"Because I don't care how long it's been. I love you. So do you love me?" he pressed.

Minerva was crying again. She could feel fresh, hot tears running down her cheeks. She couldn't tell the truth, but she couldn't lie either. "Yes. Of course I love you."

At first Dougal looked happy, then frustrated. "Then I don't understand!"

"I know you don't. I'm sorry. But I'm leaving and I can't marry you. Please don't ask my family where I am. Please don't come looking for me. Don't even think about me, if you can manage it. I won't be coming back."

"But..." He tried to protest, but he was clearly at a loss.

So was Minerva. "I'm so sorry. You deserve better than this. But I have to go."

She simply couldn't take it anymore. Dougal looked devastated, and the only thing she could do was to run like a coward.

So Minerva ran.

And she learned another thing about love.

It hurt. Worse than any jinx or curse imaginable. More importantly, there was no antidote or counter-curse.

And so her heart broke.

A/N: I'm guessing this won't be a very popular chapter, but it's an important one as far as Minerva's character development is concerned. So I hope you enjoyed it even without Albus making an appearance. And of course, thank you all for your kind words when I finished part one last week. I'm glad you're up to continuing this journey with me.