The room was pitch black save for the single candle floating gently through the air. The faint glow chased away the demons, kept them safe. The water lapped at the porcelain edges while the steam curled around tired limbs. The sponge traveled up his chest, ticking the hairs. Minerva's breath tickled his neck as he leaned back against her, sighing. His entire body was tense after a day spent at the Ministry. Three murder trials in the morning was followed swiftly by six hours locked away in the Minister's office looking over the draft for a new bit of anti-giant legislation. It had been ten minutes of reading and more than five hours of arguing. The bath had been waiting for them when he arrived home. She dropped the sponge and let her fingers stroke along his ribcage, brushing her lips against his ear as Albus moaned. The darkness wrapped around them, and her fingers continued onward. Over the ribs, passed the nipple with the barest of brushes, and along the edge of his left pectoral. Trailing in, she found what she was looking for, an oblong, raised, area just below his heart. In the light it was a dark pink colour with jagged edges. It looked like a feather. The finger stopped, and she waited.
"I was twelve, only just. About a month into the summer holiday, Aberforth got it into his head that he wanted to play. He was only seven at the time, and I thought I was too old to bother with him. Too self-important was a more apt description. We lived on an old estate with railings that only came to my waist, even then. I wasn't paying attention to him, and Aberfrorth took exception. He started screaming something about balls, love, and 'his Mister Fuzzypants' when he charged me. I was half-sitting against the rail when he hit, and I went over the edge." He reached down and ran warm hand up the back side of her thigh.
"Mother was in the gardens below pulling weeds and trimming back the bushes. Sometimes, I can still hear her screams as I fell. I've never heard a sound like that from her since. All I really remember is the ground rushing closer, and then a heaviness before nothing. I landed on her bush; thankfully, mother managed to slow my decent, but I was impaled on a rather stubborn branch. It missed my heart by less than an inch. and got stuck on my rib. I woke in St. Mungo's three days later, my hospital room covered in pictures Aberforth had drawn as an apology; Mr. Fuzzypants, his imiginary friend, even contributed a piece or two. Mother raised the railing the day I returned home, Aberforth was stuck doing my chores for a week, and I spent the rest of summer trying to avoid the gardens with an almost fanatical devotion. I had the most difficult time going back into Herbology that Fall. I almost failed that term."
There was silence as Minerva curled herself more tightly around him, resting her hand flat over his heart. It beat steady and strong, if not a bit quickly beneath her fingers that curled slightly, biting into the skin. She propped her chin on his shoulder, resting her head against his. "Well, that explains why I always get to see Pomona about her inventory, and why your mother turned blue laughing when I asked her about a garden for the cottage. How about I keep it down to potion ingredients and flowers, and you never, never, say Mr. Fuzzypants again."