Over the next few days, Albus and Minerva took short walks together around the snow-blanketed grounds to build up Minerva's stamina and coax some colour back into her cheeks. Most of the children had gone home for the Christmas holidays, and those that remained at Hogwarts took little notice of the Headmaster and his deputy as they strolled by the lake or meandered among the greenhouses. As far as the students were concerned, everything had gone back to normal the day Professor McGonagall had returned to her classroom, and nothing had changed.
But it had.
Though she hated to admit it, fatigue still plagued Minerva, and she found she couldn't put in the hours she had hoped to in the library or at her desk working on her fledgling research project. Moreover, while the new awareness of Albus's magic was subtle, the gentle thrum that pulsed just beneath the flow of her own magic was distracting when she was trying to read or do quiet work. But as the days passed, she became accustomed to it. She even found herself searching for it when she'd been busy and hadn't noticed it for some time. It became almost pleasant, a reassuring presence within herself.
When she told him about it, Albus confessed to feeling the same.
"It reminds me of you. That you're still here," he said softly.
Minerva blinked several times to prevent her eyes from tearing up.
~oOo~
Much to his relief, Albus discovered through subtle inquiry that he and Minerva were the only ones to sense anything different about their magic. No one else noticed anything unusual, even if they were near Albus or Minerva when either cast a spell.
Albus and Minerva took advantage of the nearly empty school to make some simple experiments around the castle and the grounds, casting a variety of spells in different locations, although Albus insisted Minerva continue to limit her expenditure of magic in order to avoid exhausting herself.
They found that distance dimmed but didn't eliminate the ability to feel one another's ambient magic and spell-casting, and that the stronger the spell, the greater the distance at which it could be felt.
One morning, when Albus was busy with paperwork, Minerva slipped away to London to do some research in the British Library. She'd found the materials she needed and was headed to an-out-of-the-way carrel to try to make some magical copies when a sudden tugging sensation—not entirely unlike that of Apparition, but deeper within her—nearly sent her sprawling. She dropped the stack of books and journals she'd been carrying, scattering them over the Science Reading Room floor and earning her the attention of a Muggle medical student, who gallantly gathered them up and insisted she sit down and have a cup of water before he'd let her alone.
When she returned to Hogwarts and told Albus about it, he sheepishly admitted he'd abandoned his paperwork in favour of "playing" in the Room of Requirement, attempting to call up and direct a small sandstorm, which explained the red chafing on his cheeks and forehead.
As Minerva healed his skin with her wand, he said, "I'm sorry. I'm afraid it got a bit out of hand, and I had to do some serious spellwork to get it back under control." He winced as she smoothed a small abrasion over his eye. "If it affected you all the way in London, the bond must be stronger than I'd realised. We'll have to find a way to ameliorate the effects."
They spent the final two days of the holiday casting and re-casting in the Room of Requirement, each experimenting with managing and modulating their reactions to the effects of the other's spells. The odd sensations remained, and complex magic continued to have a greater effect, but by the last day Albus told Minerva he was satisfied that they would be unlikely to inadvertently hurt one another with a strong or hastily cast spell.
Minerva sat heavily on a bench the Room had thoughtfully provided, a light sheen of perspiration coating her face. Albus sat down beside her and wiped a stray strand of hair from her eyes.
"You're tired," he said, a worried frown emphasising the wrinkles across his forehead. "Perhaps we overdid it."
"I'm fine," Minerva said. "It felt good to let go."
"Nevertheless, I'd like to take you down to Poppy for a thorough examination to make sure we haven't set back your physical or magical recovery."
Minerva blotted her forehead with a handkerchief. "Poppy's away this week, remember? We have a locum on call from Mungo's, and I'm not going to see a stranger."
"As soon as she's back, then." Albus's tone told Minerva any objection from her would cause a row for which she hadn't the energy.
She nodded and stood, wiping her hands on her skirt.
"And don't come to the Great Hall tonight," Albus said. "Have Quinsy bring you something hearty in your quarters. Then early to bed. I'll stop by after dinner to check on you and tuck you in."
Minerva was about to object that she wasn't a child to be coddled and sent to sleep with a Horlicks and a bedtime story, but the concern writ plain across his face stopped her. His fretting was sometimes irritating, but it was only because he loved her, she reminded herself.
"All right," she said.
~oOo~
True to his word, Albus appeared in her rooms just after eight that evening.
Looking at the remains of the dinner left on her small table, he said, "I take it you ate?"
"I did." She poked at his arm with an index finger. "Did you have anything to do with the menu, Headmaster?"
"I may have floated a suggestion or two."
Minerva wrinkled her nose. "It was lovely, but for future reference, I'm not especially partial to creamed spinach."
"Yes, but you enjoy calf's liver, and the spinach is also full of iron. I thought the two together might put the roses back in your cheeks."
"Well, I ate most of it. The champit tatties were a welcome addition." She put a hand on her middle. "I think I overate."
Albus's face lengthened in concern. "Your belly isn't hurting you, is it? Maybe we should call on that locum—"
"No, nothing like that. The meal was a little heavy, that's all."
"As long as that's all it is."
"It is. I'm fine, I promise," she said. "Now, you mentioned something about tucking me in?"
She hadn't quite decided to go to bed so early, but she wanted to forestall his fussing, and she was tired after the day's exertions.
His lips tugged upwards into a smile. "It would be a pleasure."
He followed her into her bedroom and sat on her bed while she padded into the bathroom to clean her teeth.
When she emerged, he had turned down the bedclothes and was moving his wand over the spot where she would lie.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Warming the bed. The sheets were a bit chilly."
She stroked his cheek and followed it up with a kiss just above his whisker-line. "You are very sweet."
He pecked her lips. "In you go, pip-pip!"
"Mmm," she hummed as she slid between the sheets. "Lovely and warm. Hand me my book?"
"Don't stay up too late reading," he admonished. "The point of all this was to get you some additional rest. The children will be back tomorrow, and you're going to need your energy."
"I know. I only have one more chapter to finish, then it's lights out for me."
"Good." He kissed her again. "When does Poppy return?"
"Wednesday. She and Jean-Baptiste wanted to stay in Paris an extra day for a concert, and I told her it would be fine."
"You won't forget about that examination, will you? As soon as she's back?"
"I won't forget."
He smiled in satisfaction. "Good night, my love. Sweet dreams."
"Good night."
Minerva took her glasses from the bedside table and opened her book.
"Minerva?"
She looked up. He had paused in the open door. "Yes?"
"I assume you'll tell Poppy about the bond?"
"I think she ought to know, don't you?"
He seemed to consider, then nodded. "But ask her not to make any note of it in your record."
Minerva shut her book.
"Why?"
"It seems prudent not to let any … idiosyncrasies in our magic become too widely known."
"I agree that the bond isn't anyone else's business, but why must we ask Poppy to falsify a medical record? She won't like that."
"Be that as it may, please tell her it's my request as Headmaster and her employer."
Minerva took off her reading glasses to look at him.
"I doubt you'll need to pull rank on her, but why is this so important?"
"I trust Poppy, of course, but others might gain access to the records. I don't want to risk anyone else finding out about the bond."
She stayed silent, looking at him.
"If word got out, someone might try to use you, use your magic to get to me."
"Someone," she said. "You can't mean Tom Riddle? He's not been around for years."
"Yes, but his followers remain. And there are others who have not forgotten my role in the war, some of them in high places. And now that our connection is more widely known, the danger to you may be increased."
Minerva sighed. She'd hoped that, as time went on, and there was no sign of the young wizard who had dogged her footsteps and caused them so much concern during the early part of their relationship, Albus would stop worrying about the threat he believed their connection posed to her, but it seemed that hope was in vain.
"All right," she said. "I'll ask Poppy to leave it out of my record."
"Thank you, my love."
The door closed behind him, and Minerva took up her book again but found she couldn't concentrate.
After a few futile minutes, she put it down, extinguished the candles with a wave of her hand, fluffed her pillow, and laid her head down. Despite the kernel of anxiety that had taken up residence in her belly at the mention of Riddle and his cronies, she was asleep within minutes.
~oOo~
The following Wednesday, Minerva made her way to the hospital wing directly after classes had ended for the day.
The infirmary was empty of patients, and Poppy was restocking the basic potions cabinet when Minerva came in.
"May I bother you?" she asked Poppy.
"Certainly. It's no bother. Is there something wrong?"
"No, not really. Albus and I were exercising our magic last weekend, and he thought I should have you make a quick evaluation of my magical health."
"Of course," said Poppy. "And when you say, 'exercising,' what kinds of spells are you talking about?"
Minerva shrugged. "Some light charms, a few Transfigurations … some minor hexes."
Poppy's eyebrows rose. "You and Albus hexed each other?"
"Minor hexes, Poppy. Impedimenta, that sort of thing."
"And may I ask why you would cast minor hexes on one another?" Poppy's eyes narrowed. "You weren't duelling, were you?"
"No."
Poppy crossed her arms across her chest and gave Minerva a stern look.
"If I tell you, will you keep it a secret?" Minerva said.
"Of course. I'd never disclose anything personal unless it was part of an essential medical treatment, you know that."
"Yes, I know. I'm sorry," said Minerva, "but it's important. Albus believes it could be dangerous should it get out."
"Now you have me positively intrigued," Poppy said. "I swear it won't leave this room unless absolutely necessary to protect your or Albus's health."
Minerva still hesitated, pursing her lips in agitation.
Poppy put a hand on Minerva's. "I can take a wand oath, if you want."
"No, of course not. I trust you. But you mustn't put it in my record."
Poppy's brows drew together. "That would be a violation of ethics."
"I know, and we don't ask it lightly. But it's important."
She could see Poppy turning it over in her mind. Merlin, but Minerva hated to put Poppy in this position, but Albus clearly thought it necessary, and she had promised him.
"All right," Poppy said finally.
Minerva took a breath and told Poppy what had happened with the bond, relating what Marlene had said about it. Poppy listened, her expression not changing, which reassured Minerva somewhat.
"Should we be worried?" Minerva asked.
"I couldn't say for certain. Marlene would know better than I would, probably."
"She doesn't know about the latest development, though."
"What happened after you had sex."
"Yes."
Poppy frowned.
"I don't know what to tell you, Minerva. This is way beyond my area of expertise. The effects haven't grown or changed while you've been experimenting, have they?"
"No, not that we've noticed."
"Have you and Albus had sex since you first noticed the … effect?"
Minerva flushed. "No. Do you think it will change? Get stronger?"
"No way to know. Other than to try it out."
~oOo~
The same day, Albus sat in his private study with a cup of tea, ignoring the correspondence littering his desk. Instead, he thought about the bond and what it could mean.
He was glad Minerva no longer worried about Tom Riddle, but Albus knew the threat was real and ongoing. If Riddle were to discover the unique connection between them, Albus doubted he'd hesitate to try to use it in any way he could to harm them.
And Riddle was not the only consideration. The apparent intertwining of Albus's and Minerva's magic was a wholly unknown phenomenon. Blood had been used in bonding rituals for centuries, and it was still used, albeit clandestinely, in warding charms, but, as far as Albus was aware, no one had ever attempted used the amount of blood he had given to Minerva. And no one knew what the ongoing effects would be.
At one time, Albus had thought the general aversion to blood magic a foolish posture born of blood-prejudice and superstition. Notions of magical power being connected to the "purity" of one's magical blood were disastrously misguided, as the persistent custom of intermarriage within pureblood families demonstrated. It was a fact largely unacknowledged in polite society that both life expectancy and fertility among members of the families with the "purest" bloodlines were significantly lower than for others whose magical pedigrees were more mixed.
But in the past few years, Albus's studies had convinced him that, although there were doubtless benefits to be reaped through the study of blood magic, great caution was needed. Attempting to harness the power within magical blood was, at best, a headlong plunge into the unknown, only to be used in the most desperate of situations. As he had done when he'd allowed the Healers to fill Minerva's veins with his blood. His hope had been that the lack of intent would ameliorate any magical effects, but it had been only that—hope. Now he hoped the connection it had formed between them could not be used against them.
He left his study and used the magical door connecting his quarters to his office. In a specially warded corner of the Headmaster's library, he lifted the charms that obscured a shelf containing what Albus considered the books in his collection that would be the most dangerous in the hands of a naïve or Dark-minded mage.
He withdrew a thick volume bound in cracked red leather. The title, embossed in gold lettering, was Mysteria Sanguis—The Mysteries of Blood. He'd paid a small fortune for the rare medieval tome he'd found in a Venice bookshop, but it had been worth every Galleon. It contained texts he'd never seen anywhere else, information on spells and magic that had been lost over the ages in which blood magic had been held as suspect and largely prohibited by most wizarding governments.
Settling at the small table in the corner of the library, Albus opened the book, gingerly turning the pages of yellowing vellum, until he found what he wanted. He read for more than two hours, and when he finally closed the book, he had decided.
The binding must progress no further.
It was clear that the strong magic potentiated by the use of blood was wildly volatile and changeable. Any risk of deepening the bond, of further entangling Minerva's magic with his, was unacceptable.
He headed back to his rooms and poured himself a large dram of Ogden's. Nevertheless, sleep eluded him that night.
~oOo~
The following Saturday, Albus appeared in Minerva's quarters, as usual. They played two games of chess, each winning one, and afterwards sat together reading on her settee with a pot of tea in front of the fire, Minerva's stockinged feet resting on Albus's lap.
Minerva finished her book, removed her glasses, and set them down on the tea table. Albus looked up and smiled at her.
Tilting her head to read the title of his book, she asked, "How is Wide Sargasso Sea?"
"To be honest, I'm not especially enjoying it."
"Maybe I can persuade you to leave off reading, then," Minerva said, pressing her foot against his crotch.
He took hold of her ankle, brought her foot to his lips, and kissed the sole, then put it back down in his lap. When she tried to move it back to tease him some more, he held it against his legs.
"Not in the mood, or do you find my feet less than attractive?" she asked, a mischievous grin on her face.
"Every bit of you is enticing, my dear, but before we start anything, we need to talk about the new situation."
Her smile faded. "'Situation.' You mean the bond?"
"Yes." He took off his glasses and put them with his book on the tea table beside hers. "I think, for the time being, it would be best for us to limit our intimate activities."
A cottony sense of dread crept through Minerva.
"Elaborate, please," she said.
"I think we should avoid doing anything that could further expose us to one another's blood."
"Such as?"
He swallowed. "Intercourse."
Her throat tightened, and she had a hard time speaking. Finally, she said, "For how long?"
"Until we can be certain it wouldn't have any other serious effects."
"And if we can never be certain?"
"Then we … adapt."
She pulled her foot from his lap, got up, and went to the window to look out into the five o'clock darkness. Light from the half-moon glanced off the promontory near the Black Lake, making the skeletal shadows of the Scots pines standing sentinel around it look vaguely menacing.
Despite the crackling fire and the Warming Charm on the room, she shivered.
It wasn't enough that they had lost their child and any hope of ever having another; now they would lose this too.
She turned back to him. "You're telling me you're never going to make love to me again," she said stonily.
"Not necessarily. And there are other ways to make love."
"It isn't the same."
"I know," he said. "But I don't want to inadvertently increase the strength of the bond."
"I recall a time when you wanted us to be bound."
"And I remember how you reacted. And you were right."
She was silent, remembering her fears, her aversion to the idea of a blood binding. Her horror when Albus had suggested it as part of the marriage rite—as a way of protecting her from the threat of Tom Riddle—had nearly scuttled the wedding before it had happened.
Her distaste for any kind of magic that overcame free will, that compelled another person to do anything, had been almost visceral since her Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher had asked for a volunteer to undergo an Imperius Curse to demonstrate its effects for her O.W.L. class.
Professor Merrythought had only made Minerva hop up and down on one foot for a minute, but it frightened her as little ever had before. The terrifying thing was how good it had felt to follow her teacher's command. The curse had been like warmth and comfort flowing through Minerva's very magic, and she had found herself craving the sensation for several hours afterwards.
It occurred to her now that the pulse of Albus's magic that she had felt since they made love for the first time after her illness held some of the same dangerously seductive properties as that Imperius had all those years ago.
And yet …
The notion of never having him inside her again, never sharing that feeling of complete connection and trust … it was unbearable.
"How will we know what will happen if we don't try?" she asked.
"I don't think we should risk it."
"So you'd rather give up sex entirely?"
"Of course not. We can do other things that don't involve actual penetration."
The clinical term raised a sudden fury in her, and she barked a laugh. "'Actual penetration', Really? Let me make sure I understand you correctly. You're proposing we conduct the rest of our marriage without fucking."
"I am proposing we be cautious."
"No, let's be precise. What can we do? Kissing?"
"Of course. We just—"
"Petting?"
"Minerva—"
"Fingering? Sucking? Tell me, Professor, of all the secret, dirty things you taught me so long ago, what are we still permitted to do?"
"Will you let me—"
"Or are you tired of me? Do you want to find someone else, someone younger, whose body works properly?"
His leaden silence and the hard look in his eyes told her she had gone too far, but she didn't care. She stood glaring at him, daring him to speak.
He didn't. Instead, he went to the tea table, picked up his glasses and book, and left her quarters without another word.
The sound of the door slamming behind him pierced the cloud of rage that had fuelled her. She sank onto the settee and let her face fall into her hands.