Here's that last chapter...
'Freyr': Part Seven
They retreated to their parlour at Minerva’s request as it was the only room with enough space for the incantation.
“Did you read my list?” she asked untying the bag from her belt as Albus moved their furniture to the side with a clap of his hands. She also loosened her her hair and removed her gloves.
“Yes dear,” he said with the dull air of a student being asked if he had done his homework. The list she had given him was a strict guideline for his lifestyle which would improve his fertility, commencing immediately. It outlined a diet (he noted with distaste that he was to cut down on his sugar intake) and a reminder to devote a good hour every day to exercise (sex did not count; Albus was disappointed). The list was unecessary now that they had the incantation. Albus supposed that if Minerva’s plan was unsuccessful, this list would have been their plan B.
“And your magazine?”
“Back to front and commited to memory.”
She looked at him oddly but attributed the bizaare comment to Albus being eccentric. She did not trust the mysterious smile however.
“That’s good to hear. Are you wearing--”
“Those foul tartan boxers? Yes I am. Would you care to check?”
One of the points on her list stated ‘wear boxers’, referring to the many pairs bought at Harrod’s earlier that day. He understood the need for them; they were less restricting than his standard underwear, allowing for improved blood circulation around that area.
“I will later Albus,” she answered without skipping a beat. “And there’s nothing foul about tartan.”
“Then why don’t
you wear them, since
you’re the one that likes them?” he asked irritably.
“Darling if we go along with your reasoning why don’t
you wear the silk negligee you bought for me last Christmas, since
you are the one who likes the feeling of silk and the colour purple? I like tartan and I like you. I like to see tartan on you. It’s for my viewing pleasure understand, much the same as the negligee is for your viewing pleasure. Are we in agreement?”
He ‘hmphed’ but his eyes were twinkling and he was fighting not to smile. She rolled her eyes. Sometimes Albus chose to be dificult just to see her riled up.
“Take off your jersey please,” said Minerva crisply, removing a small oak box from the sealskin bag. The intricately carved ‘twisting’ motif on the lid and sides of the box were distinctly Nordic in origin.
Albus paused for a moment then did as she asked. He folded his beloved jersey neatly and placed it upon the chintz armchair.
“I suppose this is necessary for the incantation?” he asked, folding his arms; it quite chilly tonight.
Minerva looked up at him from the three small walrus tusk carvings she was in the process of taking from the box. She smiled a self-satisfied smile at what she saw: a tall, broad shouldered man who carried himself with a subtle noble air stood before her. Now that his hair and beard were shorter, Albus’s facial features were clearly visible; one could see that the angle of his bearded jaw was strong, that he had high cheek bones and his hairline began with a mild widow’s peak. His calm countenance (unfortunately marred by the crooked length of his long nose) displayed an openness that matched his warm and kind blue eyes.
A perfect mortal consort for a goddess; in mind and body, heart and soul… Minerva found herself thinking, her body temperature suddenly rising. Thinking ahead about the night’s activities, she felt the familiar dampness between her legs.
“No.” She returned to her inspection of the carvings. “I merely wished to gaze upon your glorious half-naked form, Albus dear.”
He could not quite help the embarrassed flush creeping up his neck as he grinned at her. “Oh my, Minerva. I do believe you are among the few married women in the world who still find their husbands attractive after 30 years of marriage. What are those curious figures you have there? Aren’t you a tad too old to be playing with dolls?”
She snorted softly and held up one of the carvings, a crude hand carved figure of a man, no bigger than his little finger.
“This is Freyr, the Norse god of fertility and agriculture.”
“Hmmn, that’s easy enough to gather,” murmured Albus, eyeing the carving’s bizarrely huge phallus with prudence. “Is he always depicted as…thus?”
Minerva nodded. “The large erect phallus represents Freyr’s role as the god of human procreation and of male potency.” She eyed him again with that curious look again. “Quite appropriate for you, isn’t he Albus?”
He was sure she meant the fertility aspect of the god and how it might be applied to him, but then again, with the way Minerva’s eyes flickered down to the lower half of his form…poor Albus turned an even deeper color of red and his smile became wider.
“These,” Minerva continued, holding up the other two carvings, “are the animals associated with Freyr. The horse and the boar. The boar, interestingly, has also been associated with fertility in many other cultures such as the Celts. All three will be used in conjunction with the incantation.”
The look her husband was giving her was an amused and impressed one. Albus should have known; whatever his wife turned her hand to, he could be certain she would do it very diligently and pay attention to every detail.
“Are you ready?”
He nodded, his demeanour becoming serious. “While I don’t doubt the quality of the spell, are you certain you can manage it? Minerva, I imagine it will require an extensive amount of energy. You needn’t do this if you feel you cannot.”
“Albus didn’t you know that apart from being indestructable McGonagalls are also in possession of exceptional vitality?”
“Alright then.” He gave a small smile and raised his hands with the palms facing her. “So long you are certain, my darling wife. I suppose if needed I could always nurse you back to health. That’s always enjoyable for us both.”
Minerva roll her eyes at him and Summoned an unopened bottle of Albus’s favourite merlot. His goblet was Summoned too, for the purpose of offering a libation to the god prior and during the invocation. She poured the sweet plum-scented liquid on their shag carpet each time Minerva spoke in perfect Old Norse a verse:
’ Hail to Freyr, Fro-Ing,
Inspiration for Ingwaz,
Fertile Warrior,
Beloved Among the Æsir,
Father of the harvests,
Father of industry,
Father of prosperity,
Celebrated lover, romantic and God,
Nurturer of the fields,
Compassionate one,
Join us and embrace our tribute.’
Motioning to Albus to pour the rest of the merlot as his own offering, she raised the three carvings towards him starting with Freyr, then the horse and finally the boar. Taking out her wand, Minerva traced in the air three runes of the Norse
Futhark, their ancient alphabetic runes:
First was the rune ‘ingwaz’, a diamond shaped rune. It was the rune of Freyr, associated with fertility, new life, and male virility.
Second was the rune ‘uruz’, a rune shaped like an rigidly inveresed ‘U’. It represented primeval power, essential energy and vitality.
Last was the rune ‘gyfu’ created with two lines crossed like an ‘X’. It was the rune of commitment and harmony.
The people of the North used the last rune to represent a bond, whether it was a oath of brotherhood between men of different clans or between a vassal and his lord. But Minerva knew from her days as a student of Runes studies that ‘gyfu’ was also the rune of gifts, partnerships and mutual affection. The original invocation only called for the first two runes to invigorate and augment, but Minerva modified it to be more appropriate for her husband and herself. She offered these three to Freyr on Albus’s behalf. The runes were traced in red and floated away to surrounding them in a circle.
Minerva finished the invocation with a final offering of the god’s carving in Albus’ direction and an appeal for a blessing over their endevour. A cold metallic light surrounded his form, silhouetting his shirtless figure. The floating runes started to spin around them, gaining momentum until they burst into white flames and sent out a brilliant shockwave that vibrated through out their home. The white flames returned and uniting with the metallic light they imbued Albus with the auspicious properties of the runes. It gradually dimmed; Albus’s skin seemed to absorb it. Breathlessly, they stared at one another.
“I…don’t feel any different,” he said, looking himself over.
“You are not meant to,” she answered after regaining her breath and composure. She was drained. The invocation to Freyr did take quite a lot of energy from her part. Minerva willed herself to appear fine; she didn’t want Albus to worry and she could not wait to pounce upon him. Carefully, Minerva began putting away the carvings back into the oak box. “Nor will there be any visible effects.”
She closed the box with a snap, popped it into the sealskin bag and pulled the drawstring taught. Walking towards him with an engaging smile playing at her lips, she stopped just in front of him with her nose just millimeters from his crooked one. She whispered, “The only place the invocation would affect would be here.” With both hands Minerva covered his burgeoning erection, making Albus gasp out loud. “Or to be more precise, around there.” Her hands moved just a bit lower to cup his soft, dangling scrotum.
“Aha?” was all that Albus could manage out. Taking deep, steadying breaths he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers; his hands were on her waist, keeping Minerva’s hips firmly against his while trapping her hands down between them.
Releasing her grip on him and pulling him towards their bedroom, a laughing Minerva cajoled, “Let’s get to work, shall we?”
A/N: Remember MCGONAGALL = INDESTRUCTABLE
*gasp* Anyway, I'm loving this. Poor Albus, such troubles. 
.... no really, this is such a wonderful and HIGHLY original story! Please *puppy eyes*
