Epithalamium (Harry Potter for grown-ups)

Chapter Forty-Nine

Surprisingly—to Minerva, anyway—it was Einar McGonagall who came up with the solution to what she thought of as the "wedding problem".

The family had gathered at the McGonagall home to welcome Thorfinn back from his extended trip to North America. Over dinner, Thorfinn enquired as to his daughter's wedding plans, and she replied that she and Albus had decided to marry in a Muggle register office.

"Oh, Minerva, no!" said Morna. "I thought it had been decided that you'd do it here. Not in some dingy register office . . ."

"Now, Morna. Please remember that I married Elisabeth in a Muggle office. It isn't the end of the world," said Thorfinn.

"I am sorry, Thorfinn," Morna replied. "I meant to cast no aspersions on your marriage to Elisabeth. It's simply that—"

The other McGonagalls were dumbfounded when the usually composed witch couldn’t finish her sentence but snatched up her napkin to dab at suddenly wet eyes.

A concerned Minerva got up from her seat and went to her grandmother, kneeling by her chair.

"Gran, what is it?"

"Och, nothing but foolishness," said Morna. "Do forgive me. You and Albus must do whatever you think is right, of course."

"Yes, but something is upsetting you. Please tell me what it is," said Minerva.

Morna put her hand on top of her granddaughter's, which was resting on the older witch's knee.

"All this wedding talk—it just reminds me of your mother."

Minerva was taken aback. "How so?" she asked.

"Foolishness, as I said," replied Morna. "Morrigan—silly thing—but she used to talk about your wedding." Morna paused and looked around the faces at the table. "She was sure you'd be a boy, you see," she said, looking back at Minerva. "And when it turned out you weren't, she was so delighted." Turning quickly to Einar, she added, "Not that she didn't want a boy, of course. But she'd always hoped she'd have at least one daughter. I think she'd missed having a sister, or perhaps some female cousins to play with growing up . . . all those boys . . ." Morna reminisced with a chuckle.

"So when you came along, Minerva, she always joked that she only knew boys' games to teach you. And Merlin knows she didn't hold with dressing you in frills and frippery just because you were a witch. But she did confess to having fantasies about her daughter's wedding . . . that it would be as lovely as her own had been . . . something you two could share when you were grown. She'd saved her dress, you see . . . the one frilly thing she'd ever owned, I think . . . and so lovely in it she was, too . . ."

Now, everyone at the table had to wipe their eyes—it was almost comical.

"Gran, why didn't you tell me?" asked Minerva. "I had no idea it meant so much to you . . ."

"No, and why should you? It's your wedding, and you must do as you see fit," said Morna.

Minerva stood and returned to her place, saying, "We can have a proper celebration here, Gran. It isn't that I don't want it," she said, although that was only half true. "It's just that Albus and I don't want it to become public knowledge, and we thought the best way to avoid that was to avoid a wizarding ceremony."

"Of course. It makes sense," said Morna. "That's what you must do."

"May I make a suggestion?" offered Einar, and everyone turned to look at him.

"Please do," said Thorfinn.

"Why not have a Muggle ceremony here?"

Silence reigned for a few moments, then Thorfinn said, "How would we do that? We can hardly invite a Muggle registrar here."