We all know that Minerva McGonagall was appalled that Dumbledore left Harry with the Dursleys, but were there other reasons why she didn't want him to be left there? This story explores a particular headcanon of mine regarding Minerva and Harry's relationship, and why she would have gone along with Dumbledore's plan that night. I was inspired to write this not only by a previous detail I'd included in my story Someone's Watching Over Me, but by the reprise of "If Only," sung by Dove Cameron in Disney's Descendants. This is for all fans who love Harry and Minerva as much as I do, who, like me, wonder if only.

Stars beamed down on Privet Drive, eyes that twinkled despite the horrors of that fateful night. A baby's eyes were closed in sleep, under a raw, red, lightning-bolt scar that he had no idea he bore. A tabby cat's amber eyes watched the baby from the edge of the driveway of Number Four, until they morphed into the blue eyes of a woman in emerald green.

It wasn't often that Minerva McGonagall questioned Albus Dumbledore's judgment, but here and now, she was seriously wondering if the man had lost his marbles. Leaving Harry Potter with the worst Muggles imaginable? It went beyond insanity. Minerva had spent the entire day observing them, praying to God that Dumbledore would not leave a defenseless infant here… but, it had proved futile.

His mother died to save him, Minerva, the headmaster had said in that impossibly gentle voice, after they had apparated to a nearby party and Minerva had demanded a full explanation of her friend. He'll have the protection of her sacrifice, but as long as he stays with Lily's sister, the blood charm I have placed upon him will provide additional safeguards, should Lord Voldemort ever return. Neither he nor his followers will be able to touch Harry or do him harm. And he will be far better off growing up away from the fame he has garnered.

And growing up away from love? Will he be "far better off" then? she'd wanted to spit at him. Minerva's gut hardly ever steered her wrong, and in the case of these Muggles, it was screaming BAD IDEA at the top of its lungs. Lily's sister, Petunia, seemed like a perfect snob – Lily had told Minerva long ago about how jealous Petunia had been over Lily's magical talent, so that was no great surprise. What had shocked Minerva were two things. First, Petunia's son – Dudley, she thought she'd heard. Selfish, spoiled, and already on his way to becoming morbidly overweight, all at the age of one. Kicking and slapping his mother when he didn't get his way; earlier that day, he'd tried to pull Minerva's tail when he was in the front garden. Had she been in human form at the time, Minerva would have hexed the brat into next week. As it were, she had settled for giving him a well-deserved scratch on the arm and hissing so forcefully, Dudley had shrieked and gone tearing back into the house.

The other shock Minerva had received was Petunia's husband, Vernon. She had come across many a Muggle who mistrusted anything magical, but this great numpty was among the worst: a rabid wizard-hater, thoroughly against anyone or anything that bore even a whiff of magic. Had this been medieval time, Minerva would not have been surprised to see him burning witches and wizards at the stake. Despite this, Minerva had not missed the fact that deep down, Vernon appeared to be truly terrified of magical folk – an idea that made her smirk just a little. The big oaf should have counted himself fortunate that he had only encountered her Animagus form and not her human self. Dumbledore may have written him a rational letter, but Minerva would have unleashed a series of threats that would have made William Wallace proud. Vernon would have been squeaking like a mouse then.

However, Minerva reminded herself, she was a grown adult, a powerful witch. Harry, despite somehow defeating Lord Voldemort, was still a baby. What powers he had would not manifest in full until his eleventh year, and he would not know how to harness them until he arrived at Hogwarts. What was to stop Vernon – or Petunia, or that little hellion Dudley – from doing him harm?

They won't harm him physically, Minerva, Dumbledore's voice resounded in her thoughts again. There's enough magical protection within the blood wards that they will be prevented from physically abusing him, and Petunia will be aware of this. Her husband will not be able to do him serious harm.

And again, Minerva had wanted to shake him, even in front of everyone at the party. What about emotional abuse, Albus? Did your brilliant mind even conceive of that? They may not hit him, but they'll find other ways to crush his spirit, I promise you! Rather than let her Scottish temper get the better of her, Minerva had excused herself, claiming she needed a walk to clear her head. She'd walked, all right – around the corner and out of sight, and apparated back to Privet Drive, where she now stood, watching the Boy Who Lived sleep.

Swiftly, soundlessly, Minerva strode up to the doorstep. Not for nothing was her Animagus form a cat – even as a human, she was still light-footed and agile, which meant that she couldn't have disturbed the Muggles if she tried. Sitting down on the stoop, she peered at the tiny face peeking out of the bundle of blankets. So often, she had seen that dear little face gazing back at her, in the times that Lily and James had asked her to babysit. Black hair, like James. Beautiful green eyes, like Lily. A smile that was as mischievous as his father's, but already reflected a spirit as lovely as his mother's.

Minerva's eyes drifted to Harry's forehead, where the scar blazed like a beacon. So it would be, for all of the wizarding world. That mark would forever identify him as their savior, defeater of Lord Voldemort, a hero for all time. Though she grudgingly had to agree with Dumbledore's point about growing up fame-free, Minerva still believed it was not worth growing up without love. "Darling boy," she whispered, gently stroking his soft little cheek. "Do you even know how much you're loved?"

As if on cue, Harry stirred in his blanket cocoon, fussing in his sleep. A little hand flailed out, dislodging Dumbledore's letter to Petunia and Vernon. Minerva felt her heart cinch – he had no one to comfort him in moments like this now; no one to make him fee cherished and protected. In that instant, she gathered up the bundle and held Harry close to her chest, rocking him in her arms. "Oh, shush," she murmured soothingly. "I'm here, Harry. I'm here." Whether it was the sound of her voice, or the rocking that did it, Minerva never knew, but Harry yawned and quieted almost immediately.

This should be it, a nagging voice in the back of Minerva's head whispered. You've comforted him; you've given him a little love. You need to go. Dumbledore gave his orders.

For once in her life, Minerva felt like firing back to the devil with Dumbledore's orders. She was not typically a woman who let herself be ruled by feelings, but every beat of her heart was crying for her to stay with Harry. He needed every last bit of love he could get to sustain him for the next ten years; for Merlin's sake, he needed someone to be with him always, to care for him…

Speak up, if you're so afraid. You know what honor Lily and James bestowed upon you. Use it. What's the worst that could happen?

"Minerva."

Minerva jumped at the sound of her name, and dread crept up her spine when she met the eyes of her headmaster and friend. "I can't do this, Albus. Blood protection or no, I can't leave Harry with them. He has other guardians, both of whom I know you're aware of."

Dumbledore's blue eyes, which normally twinkled with sly wisdom, were somber. "Sirius Black has been arrested, Minerva. He killed thirteen people with a single curse, including Peter Pettigrew – and he is suspected of selling Lily and James to Voldemort."

For a moment, Minerva couldn't breathe. It was like someone had punched her in the stomach – around four or five times. "That can't be," she choked out. Sirius Black, the only member of his immediate family to become a Gryffindor? James Potter's best friend, the best man at his and Lily's wedding? Godfather to Harry, their trusted Secret-Keeper? "Sirius never would!"

"He was their Secret-Keeper, Minerva, as you are well aware. Voldemort could never have found Lily and James unless their Secret-Keeper betrayed them. And at least a dozen witnesses swear they saw him blast the street apart. The Ministry believes that he was working for Voldemort all the while."

Minerva swallowed hard, fighting to quell the nausea roiling in her gut. He was their friend! "There has to be some mistake!"

"I wish that were true."

Clutching tightly to Harry, Minerva steeled herself. The nausea had been replaced by anger – white-hot anger at one of her lions betraying his dearest friends – but she forced herself to remain calm, for Harry's sake, if not her own. "Be that as it may," she said, keeping her voice even, "Harry has another godparent."

"No."

"What do you mean, no?" Minerva hissed, leaping to her feet – as best as she could, with a sleeping baby in her arms. The ire she felt at Sirius Black's betrayal was now threatening to spew in Dumbledore's direction. "I stood there at Harry's christening and made a vow to raise him, teach him, and above all, love him in the event of his parents' deaths! I have every right to claim him as my own, and you tell me no? That this boy will be deprived of love for ten years or more? For heaven's sake, Albus, I am his godmother!"

Dumbledore was quiet for several moments, gazing at her contemplatively. Minerva imagined that she looked quite the picture: spine snapped straight with Scotch defiance, blue eyes blazing with suppressed fury, and an infant nestled against her heart, which was hammering like a drum. Finally, he spoke. "Yes, you are. Which is precisely why you cannot take Harry."

"Excuse me?" A host of Gaelic swearwords were on the tip of Minerva's tongue, but she bit them back and ground out, "Would you care to elaborate?"

"As I previously said, as long as Harry stays with his mother's nearest relatives, one who shares her blood, Voldemort will not be able to touch him or Petunia and her family."

"In case you forgot, Voldemort is gone." She gestured at the lightning scar on Harry's forehead. "The evidence speaks for itself."

"There is no guarantee he will never return to power. And his followers are still lying in wait."

"They're like sheep without a shepherd; cowards in hiding. Do you honestly think I'm afraid of the Death Eaters at this point?"

"I cannot take that chance. If Petunia does not take him in, the magic of the blood charm will not be sealed, and Harry will be exposed to danger – and so will you. The Death Eaters may have gone into hiding, but many of them are still power-hungry and devoted to helping Voldemort return. If you were to take Harry in, you could be killed. The wizarding world cannot afford to lose Harry, and it certainly cannot afford to lose you, Minerva. Hogwarts needs you – as will that boy sleeping in your arms. He has already lost his parents and his godfather. His godmother must be protected, for both your sakes."

Tears were welling in Minerva's eyes, blurring out Harry's sweet face as she looked down at him. As badly as she wanted to listen to her feelings, she knew in her heart that Dumbledore was right. She couldn't risk both of their lives being destroyed, if the Dark Lord ever did return. One day, she and Harry would need each other. "All right," she said heavily. "I'll leave him – but on one condition."

Dumbledore didn't even blink. If Minerva was any judge of character, she could guess he already knew what she was going to ask. "What?"

"Let me hold him for the rest of the night."

The headmaster's eyes widened, which gave Minerva a small measure of satisfaction. Good to know I can still surprise him. Before he could object, she cut him off. "You're taking ten years away from me, Albus. The very least you can give me is one night to show my godson the love he deserves – and to say goodbye."

Silence passed at an infinitesimal rate, while blue eyes bored into each other: Dumbledore's thoughtful, Minerva's defiant. "Very well," he finally acquiesced. "But at dawn, we must return to Hogwarts, and Harry must remain here."

"Done." Minerva turned and resumed her seat on the Dursleys' doorstep, while Dumbledore put out the streetlights with his Deluminator once more. The headmaster remained a tasteful distance, allowing Minerva to spend the last precious moments with her godson. They were moments Minerva cherished, rocking Harry and whispering loving things to him, never failing to remind him of how loved he would always be.

"Mo leanbh, mo laochain," she said in soft Gaelic, smiling at him. "Tha gaol agam ort. I love you, dear boy. I always will, no matter how far apart we are."

All too soon, the hours slipped away. The stars began to fade and a pale dusk intruded upon the darkness of night, at which time Dumbledore made his approach. "It's time, Minerva."

Minerva, who had been rocking Harry, stilled her arms. The tears she had nearly shed earlier in the night now threatened to return as she took one final look at her godson's face. "Even if we're apart, Harry, I'll always be with you. And you'll always be loved by me." She placed a kiss on Harry's cheek and gently lay him down on the doorstep, replacing Dumbledore's letter among his blankets. "Goodbye," she murmured, while Dumbledore restored the streetlights. She rose to her feet and Dumbledore offered her the crook of his arm, which she gratefully took. As irritated as she still was with him, she was glad of the support he offered. This time, the tears flowed free. "If only things could be different, Albus…"

"Take heart, Minerva. You'll see him again, sooner than you realize."

"I know. It's just so hard to let go." Minerva drew her handkerchief out of her robes and dabbed at her eyes. "And at Hogwarts, I won't even be able to tell him that I'm his godmother… will I?" she asked, turning to Dumbledore, who nodded solemnly.

"Tell him, no. Show him, yes. You may not be able to tell him while Voldemort still poses a threat, but there are many, many ways in which you can show him. Actions frequently speak louder than words, you know."

Minerva nodded, unable to say much else. If only I could tell him. If only we could be a family. If only. The more she pondered the million thoughts racing through her head, the more she could see what Dumbledore meant. It was true, while Harry was at Hogwarts, she could only be his teacher. But, it wouldn't stop her from finding other ways to show him how much she loved him. Until then, she would always remember the time they had together… and think about what could have been. If only, she thought one last time, as she and Dumbledore disappeared into the encroaching dawn.

Mo leanbh: my child

Mo laochain: my little hero

Tha gaol agam ort: I love you