Moody And Minerva

1960, July 5th.

"NO, NO!" Minerva was hunched up against the wall, letter in hand and tears streaming down her face. Of course, her oblivious, stupid mother had to go and tell her that Dougal had been married that summer. She couldn't exactly blame her, Minerva had never informed her family, but all the same, it hurt like a wound in salt. "No, no, no, no.." A muggle, no less. She had been considered "beautiful and delicate, like porcelain," by Minerva's mother. It had read;

Dear Minnie,

I know it's been a while since you've been in Scotland, but it has been the most exciting season of all. We've had quite a few weddings, and one includes Dougal McGregor - do you remember him? She very much did. The farmer's son. Sunlight coloured hair, green eyes and slightly tanned skin. Anyways, he has married a lovely, beautiful, delicate maiden from another village. Oh, how she resembles porcelain, with her rosy cheeks and doe eyes of another kind. Her name is Molly, and she resembles you, somehow. Dougal keeps saying he can't get someone off his mind, and unfortunately, even though he and his wife look picture perfect, he does not seem to take an interest in her. Consistently through the wedding, he'd say the wrong name. Yours, by coincidence. Funny, isn't it? We worry it was forced on by his parents.

Love,

Your Mother

"Of course she's pretty, of course she's obedient. Everything I'm not." McGonagall couldn't keep the flood of emotions that threatened to make her break as if a tidal wave swallowed her up in that moment. "Of course they look picture perfect." Passing by, was Alastor, who had previously asked Albus where Minerva was, but to no avail.

"Minerva? Minerva?" McGonagall lifted her head, her eyes red and watery. Looking up at the clock, Minerva came to the conclusion she'd probably fallen asleep crying (or better said, sobbing.) "Apologies, Alastor."