A mild Highlands July rolled over into a warm August, and Minerva started to feel better. Her nausea ebbed, and she regained some of her normal energy. Albus fussed over her, making sure she ate enough and didn't spend too much time on her feet.
It was sweet of him, but she quickly tired of it. While he was usually considerate with her, she was not accustomed to being treated like a delicate flower, and she couldn't help getting annoyed with his constant attentions. But she said nothing because she knew it pleased him to take care of her.
The only thing he wouldn't do for her, it seemed, was fuck her. They went to bed together, and he pleasured her with his hands and his mouth, and let her do the same to him, but he would not do what she really wanted. Whenever she moved to complete their joining, he would shift away and find a different part of her body to lavish his attentions on. The things he did were wonderful; it just wasn't enough.
On the third occasion it happened, Minerva took the Bicorn by the horns.
"Why won't you make love to me?" she asked, as he was kissing and nipping at her thighs, moving ever upwards towards her centre.
"That's what I'm doing," he said between open-mouthed kisses.
"No, I mean properly." She shifted her bottom up and away from his head.
He sat up. "Don't you like this?" he asked, answering her question with a question again.
"Yes, of course, it's lovely. But I miss having you inside me."
He kissed her, but she knew he was trying to think of an answer.
She forced herself to ask, "Do you not want me anymore? Because of the baby?" She wasn't sure why this should be so—her body had not changed much yet—but she needed to ask.
"Gods, no, Minerva. I want you. I just wasn't sure you wanted me in that way right now."
"Of course I do," she said, still perplexed. "Why wouldn't I?"
"I thought you might prefer to avoid anything getting too near the baby."
She bit back a laugh. "As impressive as you are, Albus, you overestimate the size of your wand. It isn't big enough to get anywhere near the baby."
He ignored her gentle teasing. "I just wouldn't want to do anything to hurt you."
"You won't," she said firmly. "Poppy said it was fine as long as you're not too rough and I'm not having any pains or bleeding."
His expression clouded over.
"I'm not sure how I feel about your discussing the details of our intimate life with Poppy."
"I don't discuss the details with her, or anyone else," Minerva said, irritated now. "She offered the information. She is, after all, my mediwitch. And yours as well, please to remember."
"And she's your friend."
"Yes, but you know she would never break a confidence, either professional or personal."
"Of course not, I wasn't implying that," he said. "I just meant that I might have a bit of trouble looking her in the eye if I knew she had heard all about what we get up to when we're alone."
"Not to worry, Albus. I haven't shared the depths of your depravity with her," Minerva said, now more amused than annoyed.
"My depravity?" he said, raising his eyebrows.
She raised one back at him.
"Of course. As everyone knows, I am a very proper witch. I simply allow you to use me to satisfy your carnal appetites."
"I see. And you don't enjoy it at all," he murmured, moving his lips to take her mouth, pressing his body to hers.
"No, not a bit." She ran her hands over his back and arse as he kissed her neck and caressed her breasts. "Not one bit," she repeated as she reached down to stroke him, gently leading him into position. "Not at all," she whispered in his ear as he slid into her. "Not at … ah, Albus …" she moaned as he began to move slowly within her. "Yes, my love, there … right there is where I need you," she cried when he had filled her completely.
They made love carefully. He was holding back, trying to be gentle; usually by the end of their coupling, he was losing control, thrusting into her hard and fast as he approached his climax. She wanted it—his vigour often brought her to orgasm—and she wanted to buck her hips up to meet and encourage him, but she waited this time, knowing that he was trying to protect her and their child with this unaccustomed reserve, and she loved him for it, and for a million other things besides.
He stilled for a moment, then thrust once more and shuddered, releasing his breath, warm and sweet, across her face.
She kissed his mouth, then he shifted off her and pulled her into the crook of his arm.
"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" she asked once his breathing had slowed.
His laugh rumbled up from deep within his chest. "No. Not so bad, Professor. How did I do?"
"'A' for Acceptable, Mr Dumbledore. You need to strive for greater concision in your attack."
"I rather thought I'd hit the mark directly."
"Almost. Not to worry, there's always next term."
"Speaking of term …" he said.
"Oh, dear. I wish I hadn't mentioned it."
"We need to decide when we're going to share our news with the staff and students."
"Staff sooner, I should think. We'll need to arrange for someone to take my classes when the baby comes. They might have some suggestions. Do you think Filius would be willing to act as deputy again for a few weeks?"
Flitwick had been Albus's first deputy, but when Albus had asked him to take on the role of Head of Ravenclaw, Filius had agreed on the condition that Albus find a new second-in-command. He'd hadn't especially enjoyed the administrative aspects of the job, he said, and he much preferred interacting with students, so when he took over Herbert Beery's old quarters in Ravenclaw Tower, Albus had convinced Minerva to take the deputy position.
Albus said, "I think Filius will be willing to help, provided he doesn't have to attend any governors' meetings or Ministry functions. I'll speak to him privately when he gets back, then we can inform the rest of the staff at our first meeting of term. Does that seem reasonable?"
"It does. What about the students?"
"I think you should decide when you want to tell them. Just don't wait until it becomes too obvious," he said, resting a warm hand on her belly.
"Can you just imagine the rumours?"
"On the whole, I think I'd rather not."
~oOo~
She got up late the next morning in a pensive mood. Their exchange the previous night had awoken a faint but nagging anxiety that she couldn't shake.
She had known in theory that having a child would change many things, but thus far, all her thoughts had centred on the concrete and practical. How would she manage her classes and her child? How much of her academic career would she lose to motherhood? How much of the already-scant time she had alone with Albus during term would go by the wayside?
What she hadn't considered, and what she was only now coming to see would be just as significant, were the intangible changes motherhood would make in herself and in her relationships with others. In the light of morning, she suspected that Albus's reluctance to make love to her had been about more than a fear of harming their baby. She was changing from wife and lover into the mother of his child—a category that was at once more and less than the sum of its parts.
There were other relationships to consider. Her friends—how would Amelia, for instance, react to Minerva's motherhood? Would she and Minerva remain as close as sisters, or would the new difference between them create an uncrossable gulf of unshared experience? And her colleagues, would they resent the additional strain her absence, however temporary, would place on them? Her father, who had always been so proud of her work, would he think her a fool for allowing her career to take second place to her child? Of course, it had always taken second place to her marriage, but since she and Albus were discreet about their personal relationship, it was easy for her and for everyone else to pretend otherwise. A baby was different. Its immediate, physical need of her would require a public declaration of priorities and loyalties. She disliked on instinct being so easily read.
She was beginning to realise that her life was going to change more completely and irrevocably, and in more ways, than she had anticipated. Minerva McGonagall was not accustomed to feeling unprepared, and she didn't like it.
Not one bit.