Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. All applicable copyrights are retained by J. K. Rowling and her various publishers worldwide.
Chapter 2
In which we learn of Maggie's difficult summer
From her apartment in the castle, Professor McGonagall heard the whistle of the Hogwarts Express over the drumming of the rain on the windows. The students had arrived. She quickly adjusted her new robe. Maroon was not a colour she would have chosen herself and its fanciful silver workings were somewhat baroque for her tastes but it was a gift from Albus Dumbledore. He would be hurt if she did not wear the robe at least once and the start-of-term banquet would be a very public display of it. Besides, her fashion connoisseur daughter assured her that maroon was a very good shade for her to wear.
"It projects a kinder air without being frivolous," she had told her when she first tried it on. "That'll help at your initial meeting with the first year kids. They're are nervous enough, especially the muggleborns, without having you looking as if you're sizing them up for a cauldron."
"I'm not that bad," Minerva protested.
Maggie laughed. "You are fully aware of just how stern you can look, Mum. I'll wager you spent a lot of time in front of your mirror practicing that perfect expression to reduce a student to pudding."
"Some," she admitted laughing along with her.
With one last tug at a sleeve, Minerva McGonagall turned from her full-length looking glass in search of her daughter. Since the school term was beginning, Maggie removed most of her every day use possessions to the Hufflepuff dormitory but left what she was going to wear to the feast in the McGonagall apartment so that she could spend a few more cherished minutes with her mother before class began in earnest. After decades of interacting with young people and their parents, Minerva realized how fortunate she was to have such a close relationship with her daughter. It caused Maggie some problems vis-à-vis a few of her fellow students having her mother as a teacher but both appreciated that they were near one another, a luxury that no other parent and child had at Hogwarts.
Minerva knocked on the door before entering her daughter's now nearly bare bedroom. Sitting at her small vanity, Maggie glanced over her shoulder at her mother through droopy but brilliant blue eyes. She awarded her mother a smile as she continued to brush her thick ebon hair. The customary ponytail that she had worn for years was gone. In its place was a chic pageboy that artfully framed her face.
"I'm nearly ready," Maggie said running her brush across her head one final time.
She stood and smoothed the simple, sleeveless, black gown that she was wearing. As with the rest of her wardrobe, the dress was one that Maggie had made herself. As she had done with her ponytail, she had over the course of the summer gotten rid almost of all her clothes saving only two pairs of jeans. Striving for a more mature appearance, Maggie plunged into a frenzy of sewing. She modeled her new style on the fashions worn by the young professional and university women that she saw on their several recent trips to London and Edinburgh. To Minerva's disquiet, black displaced blue as the predominate colour in Maggie's new attire.
Minerva did catch a flash of blue though when her daughter turned from the vanity. Sparkling on her left hand was the antique marquise cut sapphire with diamonds ring that Henry Porter gave to Maggie last month for her birthday. The ring's companion pieces, a pair of sapphire earrings, were undoubtedly on her lobes even if hidden by her hair. Professor McGonagall was uncomfortable with the gift even though the old-fashioned Henry had sought and received her permission before buying the set for Maggie. While raising Maggie's spirits tremendously at a time when she needed something positive, the gift was yet another indication that the relationship between the two was deeper then normally expected at their ages. The fact that Maggie choose to wear the ring on her left hand spoke volumes. Minerva privately lamented her daughter's romance with Henry knowing the frightful odds that he faced but would not deny that he was in all other aspects everything that she could wish for in her daughter's boyfriend.
"Let me help you with your robe, dearest," Professor McGonagall said lifting the garment from the bed. "Where's your hat?"
Maggie slid her arms through the sleeves. "Shall we say that I mislaid it?"
Minerva chuckled. "I dare say that the MacNarney girls will find that they mislaid theirs as well."
Bess and Bridget MacNarney, Maggie's best friends, both opted to get their hair cut after they saw Maggie's new coif. Bess went with a bob while her sister chose a tucked under pageboy. Maggie raved about their new look. Professor McGonagall viewed the MacNarney Twins with a more jaundiced eye. She forewarned her colleague Professor Sprout, the head of Hufflepuff House to which Bess and Bridget belonged, that the new styles aged the rapidly developing girls several years overnight.
"It would not surprise me," Maggie coyly replied fastening her robe. "They are always forgetting things."
"Spin around," Minerva said. "Let's take a look at you."
She ran an eye over Maggie. She was clad in unrelieved black, flats, stockings, dress and robe. The dark clothing combined with her pale skin, raven hair, perpetually half-closed eyes, and tiny, waifish frame served to give her an ethereal appearance. The nebulous melancholy that never quite left her countenance anymore only heighten that impression but none of that hid one simple fact.
"You're beautiful," Minerva said
"Thank you," Maggie replied abruptly hugging her mother fiercely. "You're beautiful too, Mum. I love you."
Returning the hug, Minerva bent her face down and kissed the top of her daughter's head. "I love you also, my dearest one."
Maggie clung to her mother for several heartbeats before releasing her with a deep sigh. "One last good day."
Professor McGonagall frowned. "I'm afraid that one escaped me."
"It was one last good day," Maggie repeated forlornly. "Right now nobody here knows about me but the two of us and the headmaster. In the morning, the girls in the dorm will see me injecting myself and by this time tomorrow, the whole school will know that I'm a freak."
Minerva grabbed her daughter by the shoulders. "Angst is very tiresome, Margaret Rhoswen. You are not a freak. You have an obstacle that you must overcome, nothing more. Shout it from the Astronomy tower. Write it on the walls of the Great Hall. Let the whole school know. Let the whole wide world know."
Maggie lowered her head. "I don't care about the whole world," she said in a small voice.
"You're apprehensive about Henry's reaction," her mother guessed.
"Yes," Maggie replied in an even softer voice. "I should have told him at my birthday party."
The raw naked anguish was unmistakable. It cut deeply into Minerva McGonagall's psyche to see her daughter in so much pain.
"Perhaps but I believe that you do the lad an injustice thinking him so shallow as to turn his back on you over something like this," Professor McGonagall said sagely although she could not stop herself from thinking that it perhaps it would be for the best in the end if he did.
"Do you really think so, mum?" Maggie asked hopefully.
The older woman sighed deeply. "Yes, I do, Maggie. You undoubtedly know that I do not like the strength of the bond that the two of you have forged but it has nothing to do with Henry himself. He is a fine decent young man. One who will see your problem as I do, as an obstacle. He will see nothing shameful about your condition."
"What is her condition?" Professor McGonagall asked the healers at St. Mungo's Hospital in late June. Increasingly concerned that Maggie was not physically developing, she took her to London to see if anything was truly wrong with her daughter or if she was just naturally tiny.
Ian Sands cleared his throat uncomfortably. He was a skilled Healer and, at fifty-three, had years of experience behind him but in the presence of his old transfiguration teacher, he was as uneasy as he had been in her classroom as a teenager. The unnerving image of a lioness with her cub would not leave his mind as he sat across from the head of Gryffindor House. He clutched at the results of the battery of tests that they ran on Maggie as if they were talismans.
"There's a specialist in Edinburgh I believe that you should take Maggie to see," he said hesitantly. "One Doctor Neala Murray. She has a private practice in addition to being attached to the University of Edinburgh."
"A doctor?" Minerva exclaimed. "A muggle doctor? Are you serious?"
The healer shrugged apologetically. "It's unusual, I'll admit. In most instances, the muggle medical professionals cannot come close to duplicating what we do here at St. Mungo's but in one area, they are far better then we are and Dr. Murray is one of the best in her field in all of Britain. If it helps, she's married to a wizard."
The professor looked at her former pupil in askance. "Enlighten me, Mr. Sands. Just where do you fall short of muggles?"
"Genetic disorders."
"Genetic disorders?" a dumbfound Minerva echoed. "Do you have any idea what is wrong with my daughter or are you simply clutching at straws?"
"No, ma'am, I assure you that I am not clutching at straws," he firmly replied. "I am almost certain as to what is Maggie's problem."
"Turner Syndrome," Dr. Murray confirmed two weeks later in her surgery's consultation room. She was a tall slender woman with a brisk but friendly manner. Her accent betrayed her Galloway origins, which scarcely made her Scottish in Professor McGonagall's opinion, but the doctor's air of sincerity and competency won her confidence.
"Which is?" Maggie and her mother asked simultaneously.
"A genetic abnormality," Dr. Murray replied. "What happened, Maggie, is that you were born with forty-five chromosomes instead of forty-six. Whereas most females have two X chromosomes, you have but one."
"Does that mean I'm going to die?" a frighten Maggie asked.
The doctor smiled kindly. "We are all going to die one day but you are in no danger of that anytime soon. The most common life-threatening conditions arising from TS are heart problems but your heart is strong and healthy. You do have a horseshoe kidney as a result of your monosomy but it is functioning properly so there are no concerns there."
"Is this Turner Syndrome why Maggie isn't growing?" Minerva asked.
"Yes, Professor, but it is more then just that," the doctor answered. "Your daughter is not only not growing; she is not entering puberty. Physiologically, Maggie is approximately nine years old."
"But I'll be fourteen in a few weeks," Maggie declared.
"Your chronological age is immaterial," Dr. Murray said. "Your body is not, truly it cannot, produce the hormones necessary for either growth or sexual maturation. Simply put, without treatment, TS will not allow you to become a woman."
"I'm going to be a little girl forever?" Maggie squeaked.
"The key phrase in that sentence was 'without treatment', Maggie," replied Dr. Murray assertively. "There is no cure but with a regimen of hormones, the condition can be treated and you can eventually become an adult but I must stress that we are talking about a several years-long process."
"What must be done?" Professor McGonagall asked.
The Great Hall was in readiness for the banquet. The ever-diligent house elves scrubbed the large room from wall to wall, touched up the lacquer on the chairs and tables, and rid the corners of any errant spider webs. Flames danced gaily in the fireplaces their bright light reflecting off the shiny goblets resting on the tables beside golden plates and traditional cutlery. Floating in precise rows overhead hundreds of candles burned banishing darkness from even the remotest of crannies and filling the air with a sweet honeysuckle scent. The Headmaster tweaked the enchanted ceiling earlier in the afternoon playfully adding a comet to the night sky. It may be storming outside but a clear starry canopy would cover the banquet inside.
Maggie was standing at the far end of Hufflepuff table. Her face was calm but she betrayed her anxiety by continuously shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She did not relish that she probably would become an object of interest, pity, or sickeningly sweet benevolence to many of the students and perhaps the target of cruel jests by a few but she knew that she could carry such burdens. Henry's reaction worried her. So much was already on his shoulders; could he handle the added load of a girlfriend who would not be a woman for several years? Would he? She knew that he loved her but was his love strong enough?
From the corner of her eye, she caught a smirking Peeves hovering a few meters from her. He had an armful of water balloons.
"Peeves," Maggie began conversationally. "How often have you heard the Bloody Baron say that I reminded him of his favorite niece?"
The smirk vanished from the poltergeist's face. "Often," he mumbled before gliding quickly away.
"If only he could be thwarted so easily every time," Professor Sprout said scooting up the aisle. "Hello, Maggie."
"Hello, Professor," she replied bobbing her head respectfully. "I know that you have been here for several days but I kept missing you."
The older woman laughed ruefully pushing a stray strand of hair from her eyes. "The greenhouses were in more disarray then usual. I really should get here at least two weeks before classes resume but every year a colleague of mine somewhere in the world has some new exotic plant that they simply must show me. I spent most of the summer in South America but I brought back some specimens that will boggle my NEWT students and Professor Snape."
"They sound interesting, Professor," Maggie politely replied. "Any chance some of the younger students will get a peek at them?"
"I'll be sure that some of the more enthusiastic of my younger students such as yourself and Neville Longbottom will get a tour some Saturday before too long," Professor Sprout promised.
"I look forward to it," she said.
Maggie saw the botanist sober. She instantly knew that her mother had informed Professor Sprout about her condition. Maggie steeled herself. She did not want or need the professor's sympathy but knew that the tenderhearted teacher would naturally extend a compassionate hand to her. She meant well but they truly were not that close. She was her teacher and nothing more.
"Since I'm your head of house your mother has just made me aware of your, uh, difficulty," Professor Sprout said slowly. "If you have any problems arise especially with the other students please come to me."
"I will professor but I don't foresee any problems." Maggie lied through a smile.
"Probably not. Hufflepuffs are the butt of many jokes but as a group, I would dare say that they are the most decent, most considerate, and most compassionate students here," Professor Sprout declared.
"I agree, ma'am," Maggie honestly replied. "Despite the bias toward us, I rather be in Hufflepuff then any other house."
Smiling hugely, the professor squeezed Maggie's shoulder affectionately. There was a bias toward her charges from the other students and sadly, from some of her colleagues as well who despite a mountain of evidence to the contrary remained convinced that Hufflepuff was a dumping ground for idiots but Professor Sprout had yet to hear a single Hufflepuff express regret over the Sorting Hat placing them there.
"So, speaking as a teenage girl, Maggie," Professor Sprout said. "Do you think that your mother was being an alarmist when she warned me about the MacNarney Sisters?"
Maggie grinned wickedly. "The boys won't know what hit them. They'll be queuing up clamouring for dates. There will be a lot of jealous girls at Hogwarts this term."
"Please tell me that you're exaggerating," Professor Sprout said in a pained tone.
Maggie shook her head. "I'm sorry, ma'am but I'm not. Their new hairstyles are very flattering and they purposely made dresses and blouses that emphasized the fact that they now have some serious cleavage. Their freckles have faded, their skin is clear, their teeth are perfect and they have those husky voices which always seem to drive guys wild."
The professor groaned. "And there are two of them. I best check the enchantment on the girl's hall. Good night, Maggie."
Her shoulders sagged as she scurried away.
Maggie wanted to reassure her head of house that she need not concern herself with Bess and Bridget but both had made it clear to her that they were very interested in boys and were not under the proper circumstances averse to letting events go beyond kissing.
"It's not like we gonna spread our legs in the common room and shout 'here it is, lads', ya know." Bridget said one day during August while the three of them were talking in the sisters' bedroom in Hogsmeade.
"And neither are we racing one another to see who loses her virginity first," Bess added
"But with the right lad at the right time and place, sure, why not?" Bridget continued. "They lecture us enough at Hogwarts on birth control so they must know that some teenagers have sex."
"Aren't you worried about getting a reputation?" Maggie asked.
The MacNarney Sisters laughed.
"Look at your friend, Barbara Thane," Bess said. "You and I both know that her virginity was a distant memory by the time she left Hogwarts but no one thought of her as a tramp. That was because she maintained control. When she slept with some guy, it was a privilege and he knew it. The girls who get the reputations are those pathetic creatures who use their bodies in a vain attempt to gain acceptance and self-esteem."
"Aye, they just get used and tossed aside again and again," Bridget agreed.
The massive doors to the Great Hall swung open magically. From down the corridor, the growing thunder of conversations, shouts, and footfalls rolled over Maggie heralding the arrival of her classmates. Like a black tide, the robed students crashed into the hall peeling away from one another as they veered automatically toward their house tables.
Maggie remained where she was as the multitude poured in. As they filed past, her Hufflepuff housemates as well as some from Gryffindor greeted her warmly, complimenting her on her new look. Several even hugged and bestowed friendly kisses on her. Maggie appreciated the tributes and valued the affection that each one of them displayed but in her mind, it only highlighted what her condition had done to her.
"Even the boys hug me without any awkwardness," she thought sadly. "To them I'm asexual."
Her sorrow evaporated when the one boy she was waiting to see finally appeared in the doorway. For his part, Henry's face lit up when he caught sight of her. His robe fluttered around him as he strode quickly to her side. Grinning widely, he extended to her the dozen white roses that he carried.
"Hello, precious. Great hairstyle. You look wonderful," he said rapidly. "To state the obvious, these are for you."
Maggie smiled at his excited babbling.
"Thank you. They're lovely," she said cradling the flowers in the crook of her left arm. "Did you bring them all the way from London?"
"No," he replied. "I wrote to Bess and Bridget. They bought them for me and had them waiting at the station. I owe them a few galleons."
"They are beautiful but why white ones out of curiosity?" Maggie asked inhaling the flowers' subtle fragrance.
"In my haphazard efforts to learn Gaelic, I discovered that your middle name means white rose," Henry explained. "They seemed appropriate in light of that."
"Perhaps we can find more time this term to work on your Gaelic," Maggie replied. "But right now I truly wish that Rhoswen meant kiss me."
Henry got the hint. He leaned down thinking to give her a quick peck. Maggie however had different ideas. Placing her free hand on the back of his head, she kept his mouth securely on hers as her tongue darted past his teeth. Without breaking the kiss, Henry sank slowly to his knees. He thought that there was something wrong about snogging a girl in such a passionate manner in the midst of a crowded room but the reasons why eluded him. For the life of him, his scattered mind refused to concentrate on the subject. All that was definite was the warmth of Maggie's lips.
With a small gasp, Maggie finally broke away. Smiling at his flushed face, she straighten Henry's askew hat as several Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors cheered and whistled.
"The only guy that matters thinks that I am desirable," she thought with satisfaction. "Damn what the rest of them think."
Embarrassment flooded through Henry as he returned to reality. He carefully arose profoundly grateful that the robe he purchased a few days earlier in Diagon Alley was very, very loose fitting. It hid the most prominent physical evidence of his pleasured reaction to Maggie's kiss.
"Not that I did not enjoy that but please don't do that again in so public a place," pleaded Henry escorting Maggie to the table.
"I won't," Maggie promised sitting down near the end of the table. "I just needed to prove something to myself."
"And to everyone else," she added silently as Henry pushed in her chair.
"Prove what?" Henry asked sitting beside her.
Maggie shook her head. "We need to talk but it'll have to wait until tomorrow. I want some privacy."
"We can find some out-of-the-way place to talk after the supper," Henry said.
Again, Maggie shook her head. "Undoubtedly we could but no. There is something else…never mind. We'll just do it tomorrow. Please?"
Henry did not press her on the issue but her vague evasion left him troubled. Barbara Thane who was serving her apprenticeship at Saint Mungo's Hospital mentioned that she had seen Maggie there twice over the summer but did not have an opportunity to do more then wave to her. Maggie however never alluded to the visits in either herletters to him or at her birthday party. Henry knew the folly of jumping to conclusions but found her omission disturbing. He tried not to think about it concentrating instead on Professor McGonagall leading the new students into the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony.
By the next morning, the storm had blown itself out although the sky remained stubbornly overcast. It was cool and the grounds of Hogwarts were sodden but Henry went on his daily run nevertheless. He dispelled his uneasy thoughts by losing himself in the uncomplicated rhythm of churning muscles. He had hoped that Maggie would meet him in the common room before the others awoke but after lingering for awhile, it became apparent that she would not emerge from the darken hall that lead to the girls rooms. He chose to trust that Maggie would eventually tell him what was bothering her.
The anticipated conversation was further delayed felling victim to time constraints. The class schedules distributed at breakfast informed Henry and the rest of the fourth year Hufflepuffs that they had Herbology with the Gryffindors first thing that morning followed immediately by Transfiguration. There would be no opportunity to talk privately until lunch at the earliest.
Henry was a little hurt when Maggie avoided him in the greenhouse. She quickly snared Hermione as her partner when Professor Sprout ordered the students to pair up in order to collect the pus from the bubotubers. A mystified Hermione kept glancing over to where Henry was working with an equally perplexed Chris.
"Have you and Maggie broken up?" Chris finally asked in a hushed tone. "Although after last night's display, I'd find that hard to believe."
Henry blushed at the memory. His roommates teased him incessantly the previous evening once they got back to the dorm. He took it in stride although he did have to remind them with a hard glare at one point that he would not tolerate any ribald comments about Maggie.
"No, we haven't," Henry answered. "Something's bothering her but I don't believe that it has anything to do with me directly. She'll get around to telling me until then it seems that she wishes to avoid me."
Chris nodded accepting Henry's explanation. It was almost incomprehensible to him that Henry and Maggie would split up. They were only fourteen but it was as if they were already married. When Henry presented the jewelry to Maggie at her birthday party, she straight away extended her left hand. Neither expressed any interest in any other boy or girl content to keep company with one another. Chris thought that such a relationship was probably not psychologically healthy at their age. Hermione agreed with him but neither voiced their opinion.
Henry's hurt eased when Maggie slid her book bag over his shoulder as they were leaving the greenhouse for Transfiguration class. Grabbing his hand, she leaned close to him as they crossed the nearly dry lawns.
"Did you miss me?" she asked drolly.
Henry searched for a witty reply but his lack of a sense of humour handicapped his effort so he plainly told the truth as usual.
"Somewhat."
"Good," Maggie replied. "You aren't taking me for granted yet."
"Never," Henry promised.
They walked the rest of the way in companionable silence.
Professor McGonagall kept her face stoically blank as she watched the pair enter her classroom and sit down beside each other on the front row. She acknowledged Henry's polite greeting with a nod all the while indulging an idle fancy casting her mind back over the last three years to see if there was some point in time where she could have nipped the romance between the two in the bud. The only likely scenario was to have had someone else travel to Kentucky to deliver Henry's invitation to Hogwarts but even to the magical folk of Britain, time travel was but a fantasy.
"All in all," she thought. "It would be so much easier if I was not genuinely fond of the lad myself. Fate cast him into the role of hero and he wears the mantle like some knight from a tale of chivalry. Unfortunately too many of those tales end with the knight's noble death."
Professor McGonagall walked around her desk, taking a position before her students.
"For three years you have been mastering the basics of transfiguration," she began. "Now the study for your OWL begins in earnest."
"But the OWL examination won't be for two years!" Susan Bones exclaimed. She immediately turned bright pink when she realized that she had spoken aloud.
"Twenty-one months if you wish to be precise, Miss Bones," Professor McGonagall said dryly. "Yet trust me when I say that if you desire to earn an OWL in Transfiguration, now is the time that your serious study begins. Open your textbooks to the first chapter."
From that point, Henry did not have the time to waste in futile considerations as to what troubled Maggie. The professor dove into the textbook as if the OWL exam was in twenty-one days. She relentlessly drilled the students until even the slowest of them understood the concept. Maggie knew that her mother honestly wanted each of her students to master the subject for their own sakes but also knew that the teachers were highly competitive and compared the number of their students who earned OWLs and NEWTs in their subjects to one another.
The deep tolling of the school bell signaling the end of class caught Henry unawares. He was surprised to find that two hours had past.
"That was a fairly good start for a first day back in class," Professor McGonagall announced as the students gathered their things. "But I expect that once we get our academic legs back under us we shall move along at a greater pace."
She chuckled silently as more then one student failed to stifle a groan. She saw several faces brighten suddenly. She knew that it occurred to them that it was now time for lunch.
"A moment of your time, Mister Porter," she called out as the students scampered from the room.
Knowing what she wished to talk to him about, Henry waited until the classroom emptied before approaching his teacher's desk. Maggie pretending to leave with the others instead closed the door as the last of their classmates left.
"The headmaster, Professor Moody, and I had a serious discussion about your animagus training a few days ago," Professor McGonagall began without preamble. "It was decided for various reasons that you will undergo the training with a few others of your choice, no more then two or three."
"One of which will not be me," Maggie declared emphatically.
Henry looked at her in surprise.
"No, mum did not forbid it. You will understand in a few minutes," she said. "Continue on."
"Well, Mister Porter?" the professor asked.
"Chris Gallatin, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley," he answered after a moment.
"Ronald Weasley?" Professor McGonagall asked.
"He's tenacious," Henry explained. "He's geared to fight against long odds and make last stands."
Professor McGonagall tapped her forefinger against her lips while she contemplated Henry's choices. That he picked Chris and Hermione did not surprise her and she had no reservations about teaching either of them. Ron, however, was an odd selection. She had not known that he and Henry were particularly close and his study habits gave her pause. Ron was one of those students who never truly applied himself doing just enough to get by. To her mind, he was also overly emotional, immature, and lacked self-confidence.
"Just how certain are you about Ron?" she asked finally.
"If I could only pick one, I'd pick Ron," Henry replied forcefully. "He has a mean streak that Chris and Hermione do not. If he falls, you better believe that he's taking several to Valhalla with him."
Minerva McGonagall raised an eyebrow. She often wondered what went through Henry's mind. It was now clear to her that he unflinchingly faced the fact that he was training for a life or death fight, her all ready high opinion of him increased a bit more.
"Very well, Mister Porter," she said. "I'll put the question to them and if they are willing then we'll begin the lessons Friday evening in my apartment."
"One other thing, Professor McGonagall, Ron doesn't know who I am," he said.
"At this juncture it is still too early to bring him into your confidence," the professor replied. "I will tell him that the headmaster selected him for the secret training."
"Yes, ma'am," he answered gathering his books and bag.
"You will sit, Mister Porter," Professor McGonagall said. "You and my daughter have something to discuss."
She glanced at Maggie inquisitively. Maggie shook her head once. Professor McGonagall nodded in reply. She squeezed her daughter's hand before silently exiting the classroom.
Maggie spun the chair by Henry around to where she could face her. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.
"Henry, have you ever heard of Turner Syndrome?"
Thirty minutes later, Maggie exhausted her knowledge of her condition. Henry had asked few questions during her discourse but at the end, she asked one of her own.
"Well, what are you thinking?"
"It sounds as if you caught a bad break." He answered.
"That's it?" Maggie cried in disbelief. "A bad break?"
Henry was confused, uncertain of her of her mood. "I'm sorry; Maggie but I don't know what you're after. You tell me that you were born with this condition but it's treatable and you're going be all right in time. It sounds like an aggravation but you're not going to die."
"What about the rest of it?" Maggie asked.
"What rest of it?" Henry asked in return.
"Dr. Murray saying that I shouldn't have sex for the foreseeable future," Maggie clarified.
"So we don't make love in the foreseeable future," he replied.
Maggie looked at him suspiciously. "And you're fine with that?"
Henry ran a hand fretfully over his short hair. "Mag-GIE."
Henry rubbed his throat as Maggie giggled.
"I'll be so glad when my voice stops breaking," he said. "Look, Maggie, I'll admit to having my fantasies. Hell, I have had hard time thinking of anything else lately which frankly had me sorta embarrassed until Dad said that it was normal and that I wasn't a budding pervert. But that aside, I had no expectations of jumping into your bed anytime soon. Now your doctor tells you that sex would not only be painful for you at this time but possibly dangerous. Do you honestly think that I would be self-centered enough as to pressure you into that anyway?"
"No," Maggie answered moving to the crux of her worries. "But I'm not the only girl in Hogwarts."
"Yeah but you're the only one for me," he said. "Is there anything else I should know?"
"No," Maggie quickly answered. It was a lie but Maggie could not bring herself to say anything about the likelihood of her being sterile.
"I don't care that Dr. Murray gave me only a one percent chance of getting pregnant," Maggie thought savagely. "Someday I will have Henry's child if I have to commandeer the talents of every healer at St. Mungo's."
"Ready for lunch?" Henry asked.
"Wait, Henry, I'm not done," Maggie said stopping him from rising. "Be absolutely, brutally honest. Am I truly the only girl you want? Look around this school. There are some beautiful girls here. Look at Barbara. She's a goddess. Could you refuse someone like her?"
Henry took her hands into his. "Maggie, I don't do my thinking with my dick. I can resist the temptation of others because I don't want to lose you."
Maggie leaned closer to him. "Henry, how certain are you of that?"
He smiled. "My first impulse after you put that ring on last month was to run out and find a priest."
"Mother would have turned you and the priest into mice and transformed herself into a cat," Maggie laughed feeling her fears melt away like the morning dew. "Hand me my book bag there behind you."
She extracted from the bag a small rectangular highly varnished cedar case. She ran her fingers slowly across the lid. She had to sew many dresses to be able to afford the case and its contents and she had to deceive her mother to buy it. No one save the witch who owned the curio shop in Knockturn Alley knew that she now possessed it. The witch would say nothing. It was, after all, her stock and trade. The money Maggie spent without a second thought but the deception pained her greatly. She told her mother that she went to Diagon Alley to purchase her textbooks. It was the first time that she could ever remember lying to her.
Maggie wiggled the lid loose and sat it aside. The crimson felt linedcase bottom had in its center a small silver dagger. On either side, were two tiny obelisks of rose-coloured marble. A silver chain ran through the top of the pendants in which were imbedded symbols of black onyx. Henry could feel a subtle difference in the magic of the two pendants but its exact nature eluded him.
"Those aren't runes," he said.
"No," Maggie confirmed. "They are letters from the Aramaic alphabet. A rough translation would be 'love wings'. The necklaces come from the magical traditions of the Persian Empire. They are part of a ritual that binds lovers together."
"And the knife tells me that blood is involved," Henry said wryly. "My blood, I presume."
"Our blood, actually," Maggie replied. "Am I not worth a few drops of blood?"
"You're worth every drop in my body," he declared. "But first explain what 'binds' means in this instance."
"You are as inconstant as the moon," Maggie said ironically. "First you offer me your life then you hesitate."
"Don't get greedy," Henry countered. "You have my heart but I insist on keeping my brain."
Maggie kissed him lightly. "I would have it no other way. To answer your question, my research into this says that once bonded the empathy between the lovers increases to the point that they can sense each other over moderately long distances and feel what the other is feeling. They are also able to communicate telepathically via the pendants over even greater distances."
"And the catch?"
"The catch is that the bond can only be broken by death," Maggie replied looking Henry in the eye. "The pendants cannot be destroyed."
"You play for keeps, don't you?" Henry said sardonically.
"When it comes to you, I do," Maggie replied intensely. "And you can take that to Gringotts."
"You don't need magic to chain me to you," he gently said. "I'm already there under my own volition."
"Henry, this isn't a yoke," Maggie replied. "As the inscription says they are wings."
She waited patiently while he thought the matter over meticulously. She prepared herself to accept that he might wish to postpone the ritual until he read her research himself. Henry was not impetuous. He surprised her.
"Well my dove let us fly," he finally said. "What do we do?"
Maggie had to crush the urge to shout for joy.
"Put on that necklace," she said tapping the one on her left. "That is the male one."
"What would happen if they were mixed up?" Henry asked looping the chain around his neck.
"I don't know," Maggie answered lowering the female pendant over her head. "I would not care to experiment. One further item, I think that perhaps it would be best to keep this from mother. It is too close to being married for her not to go through the roof."
Henry nodded his assent remembering Maggie's cat and mouse analogy.
Maggie took the small knife from the case.
"Palms up, please."
Henry extended his hands before him, the palms skyward. With a slightly trembling hand, Maggie brought the knifepoint down to the edge of Henry's right palm.
"Just do it quick, Maggie," he said benignly. "It'll be fine."
She exhaled slowly then slashed both palms rapidly. Henry flinched but kept his hands steady.
"Now what?" he asked as blood welled up in his hands.
"We put one pendant in each palm then it is my turn," she answered putting into action her words. Once the pendants were in Henry's hands, she laid open her own palms. Tossing the bloody knife aside, she laid her bleeding hands over the pendants before the pain could fully register.
"Now we seal the bond with a kiss," she said.
"This part of the ritual I don't mind," Henry quipped.
Like the kiss the night before, Henry felt the warmth of Maggie's lips but today there was greater warmth in their clasped hands. It crept up his arms following the pathways of his veins gaining speed as it went. It hit his heart and surged through his arteries racing toward his brain. With increasing momentum, it blasted through his mind kicking down walls that Henry did not know existed.
As the mental barriers collapsed, the presence of Maggie suddenly flooded his five normal senses as nothing had done before in his life allowing his sixth sense to reach out to her. A cocoon of psychic ecstasy spun around them. It was exquisite. It was as if his soul was kissing her soul while his body kissed her body. Henry finally understood the concept of the third eye. He saw her with his mind. He saw the bright blue of her spirit, the warm red of her love and receding rapidly, the grey of her recent fears.
Just when he felt like he was going to fly away, Maggie's lips unexpectedly fell from his as she fainted falling forward against his chest.
Panting labouriously, Henry clung to her inert body momentarily confused by his abrupt return to his normal senses. He was stunning weak. Uncertain if he had the physical strength to move he sat in his chair for several minutes holding Maggie as tightly as he could.
Henry ultimately made the decision to stand. Moving like an arthritic old man, Henry graduallyrose to his feetin stages. He gingerly lifted Maggie placing her across the desktop. He elevated her head by sliding his books beneath her. It was only then that he noticed that the cuts on his hands were gone. Even the spilt blood was gone drunk by the pendants he surmised.
Weaken by his effort he sat back down. While he struggled to regain his breath, he became curious as to whether the bond was still there or if it had been temporary, Henry closed his eyes willing his mind to reach out to Maggie. Success evaded him at first but when he thought to place two fingers on the pendant, his mind leaped from his skull like a deer.
He smiled happily. He could feel her heart beating slow, strong, and steady. Her body was not distressed in the slightest but he perceived that she was very weary. The ritual took as much from her as it did him and he was far stronger physically.
Henry peeked at his wristwatch as he unhurriedly stood again. They had nearly two and one-half hours before they had to be in their arithmancy class so he could let her sleep for a while. He tucked her pendant under her blouse before turning his attention to her scattered things. It was only when he was putting the cedar case back in her book bag that it occur to him that he had no idea when the next Transfiguration class would begin. The last thing he needed was to have Professor McGonagall return to find her daughter passed out on a desk. He hated to do it but he had to awaken Maggie.
Impishly, he decided to do so with a kiss. A spark, like the tiniest of novas, burst in the darkness of Maggie's somnolence. Maggie struggled glacially back to consciousness. When she got there she discovered that her body was already responding to Henry's kiss. Mustering her strength, she reached up running a hand across his hair.
Henry smiled at her. "Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty. I know that you're exhausted but I'm not sure when you mom's next class is."
Maggie nearly panicked. "Right after lunch!"
She laboured to rise successful only after Henry placed a hand on her back pushing her into a sitting position.
"We still have about twenty minutes so don't rush," Henry said. "You may pass out again if you do. Now put your arm around my neck and we'll get you to your feet."
Flinging an arm around his shoulders, Maggie pushed herself cautiously to the edge of the desk before allowing gravity to take over. Her legs were wobbly but Henry's firm grip around her waist kept her upright.
"I can't believe how exhausted I am," Maggie said. "I won't be able to get very far. Can you carry me?"
Henry chuckled easing her down onto a chair. "Not very far, dear heart but I do have an idea that might work."
Leaving Maggie, he grabbed chair dragging it into the hallway. Maggie craned her neck to see what he was doing. To her amazement, he used his wand to transfigure the chair into a rickshaw. With a huge grin, he returned to her.
"Three years of your mother's efforts haven't been wasted on me after all," he quipped wrapping an arm around her.
Maggie grabbed both of their book bags as Henry helped her to her feet. Under Henry's careful guidance, she managed to exit the classroom, all but falling into the rickshaw.
"Are you ready," Henry asked seizing the poles.
"If you're too tired to carry me how are you going to pull me in this thing?" Maggie asked.
"Oh, the rickshaw does all the work really although the stairs might be tricky," Henry replied. "But there are only two flights of them."
"Half the school will see us," Maggie pointed out.
"Yeah but they'll think that it's all a lark and never guess that I'm not just being foolish," he countered.
They had no choice but to try Maggie knew. They could not stay in the classroom and keep the pendants a secret from her Mother but in her current state, she could not walk five meters let alone make it back to the Hufflepuff dorm. Furthermore, he was probably right that the other students would think that it was all in fun.
"There'll probably be a fleet of rickshaws rolling around by tomorrow," she thought
"Are you ready?" Henry asked again.
"Gittup!" she said gaily.
A/N: Turner Syndrome is an actual genetic abnormality. I strove for accuracy while describing Maggie's symptoms. For those interested in learning more about it, there are several websites on the subject