Blessings and Heartache
A/N: Minerva will be OOC in this chapter and she is like this because of how she is feeling about Albus and the party. You might not agree with how I am writing her but a broken heart can make people act differently so please don’t be too angry with me for this chapter.
Many thanks to everyone who read and took the time to review the last chapter. I am grateful.
Thank you to Ang for beta reading this chapter for me. You’re a star!
On with the chapter then. Enjoy!
Chapter Seven: Drowning her sorrows
Minerva didn’t know where she was headed but she knew that she needed to get away from Hogwarts, her friends, her colleagues and Albus Dumbledore. She had felt sick to the stomach when she had walked into the staff room and saw how it was decorated. She had felt sickness consume her when she heard the banner play the wedding march. She had seen Xiomara dressed brightly and standing beside her was the man who had made her the laughing stock of the wizarding community.
He was simply standing there with a bemused smile upon his face. She felt as though he was enjoying himself immensely at her expense and it hurt her more than anything had ever done. She had seen the happy faces of her friends and colleagues and couldn’t help but think that maybe they were in on the joke as well. She placed her hand on her chest and sniffed loudly. She wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of her tears.
Minerva swept out of the school and hurried down the stone steps that led onto the grounds of the school. It was the place she had called her home for years but now it felt alien to her. She felt as though she didn’t belong inside its’ walls. She felt as though all the years spent inside had been wasted and that she had forgotten how to live without it and the people inside it. She turned and looked up at the stone turrets. The grey walls that dominated the landscape around her seemed forbidden to her now and she turned and ran down the stone path. Her green robes billowed behind her as she ran, the wind whipping at the fabric and creating a tune that only she could hear. Her boots clipped at the stones beneath her feet. Pebbles sprang to life as they were kicked through the air, only to land on the soft grass that Hagrid kept tidy.
The gates that kept her from the outside world came into view and she had never been so glad to see them. They sprang to life as she approached and opened slightly. She squeezed out and stood with her back to them as they closed. She didn’t want to look at Hogwarts again that night. She didn’t want to be reminded of what lay on the other side of the grey, cold walls. She heard the gates close behind her with a clang and she walked forward.
The moonlight lit her path to Hogsmeade and as she grew near the town, the sounds of the nightlife overwhelmed her senses. She could hear laughter, chatter and singing and knew the sounds were coming from where she was headed. As she entered the thriving town, she looked bitterly at young couples that were walking through the street, holding hands. Most of them greeted her friendly and for her part, she plastered a well meaning smile on her face and bid them a good evening. The Three Broomsticks appeared in her line of vision and she smiled. She wanted to wash her hurt away and hide away from the world. She knew that she would be spotted and people would come to her but she didn’t want to make her way to The Hog’s Head. Aberforth would be there and she didn’t want to catch something from the unclean glasses he stocked.
She pushed opened the door to the pub and was hit by the warmth flooding from within. It seemed more rowdy than usual and there seemed to be twice as many people in there as a normal night. She sighed in defeat. There was no chance of her getting a seat now, which was a shame because she could easily fade into the background with so many people in attendance.
“Excuse me,” came a voice to her left “you are welcome to have this table. I am leaving soon.”
Minerva craned her head to the side and she saw two large brown eyes looking at her with interest. The eyes belonged to a middle-aged wizard with brown hair and greying around the temples with a bright smile that was welcoming and friendly.
“Thank you,” she replied “that would be most kind! I’ll go and get a drink and leave you to get ready. There is no rush mind you. I believe the queue to be served will be awfully long.”
“No, please sit with me,” he urged. “There is no need to wait till I am gone before you sit. You might lose your seat to those people who have been eyeing this table all evening. I still have half a bottle of firewhiskey, if you’re a whiskey drinker.”
“I couldn’t” she said, putting her hand up slightly.
“Why not?” he asked with a smile. “I do not intend to pounce on you or do anything improper. As I said, I am heading off soon.”
Minerva looked at the man and sighed inwardly. She supposed he was right and perhaps a small bit of company might be a good thing for a while. He seemed a nice enough gentleman and she could handle herself if anything she wasn’t comfortable with happened.
“Since you insist,” she said as she sat down elegantly “though I am not usually a whiskey drinker.”
“I thought so,” he answered. “I see you drinking something like gillywater or maybe some punch at functions.”
“Yes!” admitted Minerva rather surprised that he had guessed what she drank on the first attempt. Not even Albus had managed that.
“By the look of you,” he added “you look like you need something a bit stronger. Firewhiskey?”
Minerva recoiled slightly in shame. Did she really look that bad? She hadn’t checked her appearance before entering the pub and so she had no idea what she looked like. She knew her eyes were slightly red and puffy from the crying session she had had in her rooms but that had been a few hours ago.
“You do not look bad,” he said as though he was reading her mind but she didn’t feel anyone invading it. “It’s a look in your eyes. I think a person who is going through the same thing as another can pick up on it more than other people.”
Minerva felt slightly enraged that this man was talking to her as though he knew her and knew what she going through. She doubted that he was going through the same thing as she was. She eyed him suspiciously and tried to see what he was getting at. He was looking at her with sad eyes as well and she suddenly felt curious.
“I am sorry for prying,” he said with an apologetic smile. “I have no right and besides, I haven’t even introduced myself. I am Gray, Gray Thomas.”
He held out his hand and Minerva did the same. He caught her by surprise as he lifted her hand to his lips and brushed them against it before lowering it again.
“Minerva McGonagall,” she said as she fought the blush that was threatening to creep upon her porcelain coloured cheeks. “Nice to meet you, Mr Thomas.”
“I would be honoured if you would call me Gray,” he said with a grin. “Mr Thomas makes me feel ever so old.”
Minerva smiled at this. She shook her head and agreed to calling him by his first name. They talked over the chatter in the pub and she found out a lot about him through their conversation and over their drinks. Gray Thomas was about to open his own Apothecary shop in Hogsmeade. He had been working in one in London but had felt the urge to branch out on his own and thought Hogsmeade was a wonderful place to start his business since it was near Hogwarts. He was married to a muggle woman but they were divorcing because he learned she was having an affair with a postman. He explained to Minerva that a postman was like an owl but a muggle. Minerva didn’t have the heart to tell him that she knew about postmen so she simply smiled and told him how fascinating muggles could be at times. He had a daughter who was showing magical tendencies and it had been decided that she was to live with him since he understood what was going on and could help her. His mother was currently looking after his daughter because she felt that he needed a break and for that he was grateful. Minerva discovered that he shared her passion for books and in particular, muggle thrillers, and they happily discussed the intricate details of crimes that had been solved in such books and how obvious some had been.
The half full bottle of whiskey had been emptied and he had gone up to order another one. He had convinced Rosmerta to deliver it to their table and when she came to the table she gave Minerva a curious look and Minerva simply smiled and nodded. She was enjoying her night immensely and Gray was fantastic company. She was feeling slightly tipsy but that didn’t prevent her from accepting top ups.
“So Minerva,” asked Gray as he reached over and touched her hand gently “tell me why you are sad?”
“I believe that I am seen as a joke to the man I adore,” she replied, surprising herself with how open she was being with a man she had met only a few hours ago. “I have come to believe that I have wasted my life on a man who doesn’t deserve my love. He made a public joke at my expense and expects me to laugh along with him.”
“Oh Minerva,” he said sympathetically “how terrible. No one has the right to make a joke at the expense of others. It is cruel and it seems that he is not worthy of you.”
“I never thought him to be cruel, Gray,” she told him. “I have known him for years and this action by him has come so out of the blue and is so hurtful.”
She watched as Gray moved closer to her and took her small hand in his slightly larger one. She felt his thumb caress the palm of her hand and she tried to ignore the feelings that simple touch was invoking in her.
“He doesn’t deserve you Minerva,” he told her. “Merlin, if I was lucky enough to have your love I would treat you with the utmost respect because you deserve it.”
Minerva felt herself blush at his words. She knew she should be telling him to stop and that she should make her excuses but she wasn’t going to deny that his attentions were making her feel good. She was craving this attention and though it wasn’t from the man from whom she wanted, Gray Thomas was a wonderful man who kept her attention and seemed to like her. She knew that if the drinks hadn’t been consumed though, she would not be focusing on his lips and wondering how he kissed.
“Minerva?” he asked, realising that she wasn’t completely listening to him but looking at something. “Do I have something on my face?”
“Oh Merlin no,” she answered with a giggle. She was never one to giggle but she had to admit that it sounded rather musical.
She looked at his lips again. She wondered how she would feel if she felt his breath on her neck, his hands roaming over her body and his kisses trailing down her neck and down the valley between her breasts. She could feel her body reacting to her thoughts and she wiggled slightly on her seat to try and get rid of the tingles that were threatening to take a firm grip on her.
“I think I need to get some fresh air!” she suddenly said.
“Let me walk out with you,” he said standing up and swaying slightly. He chuckled before saying “maybe that should be sway out with you!”
Minerva giggled again and took the arm he offered her. She rose as gracefully from the seat as she could and allowed Gray to lead her from the crowded pub and out into the night air.
“I have enjoyed tonight immensely Minerva!” he told her as they stood by the statue of Nicholas Hogsmeade, founder of the town, which dominated the town centre.
“As have I Gray,” she replied. She looked into his eyes and made herself refuse to cast a glance down at his lips, which she wanted to feel on hers.
She felt something stirring inside her as she felt his hand cup her cheek. She leaned into his hand and smiled.
“I meant what I said Minerva,” he told her. “If I had your love then I would not make fun of you. I would love you in return.”
She felt a tug at her heartstrings as she heard him speak the words. Her sorrow felt lifted and she closed her eyes. She sighed as she felt his lips press softly against her lips. She didn’t resist him and she sought his comfort and let herself be pulled into his embrace. His kiss was soft and gentle, loving almost and she kissed him back, all the time pushing all thoughts of Albus Dumbledore out of her head.
TBC…..
