Post by RonnieLee on Dec 11, 2007 15:22:21 GMT -5
This is my littlest ficcy. I'm very proud of it. It's on ff.net, too, but I thought I'd put it here in case some of you guys don't go there. If you'd like to leave a review on ff.net: www.fanfiction.net/s/3931796/1/Healing
Summary: When Albus is injured by Voldemort's Horcrux, Minerva attempts to help him heal.
Time Period: After OotP, pre-HBP
Rating: I'd say PG-13 (it's T on ff.net). There is implied sex and some nudity, but nothing too racy.
"This mountain I must climb feels like the world upon my shoulders. Through the clouds I see love shine. It keeps me warm as life grows colder." - “I Want to Know What Love Is” by Foreigner
He dreamed of Minerva. In his visions, her soft hand rested on his cheek while her delicate fingers lovingly traced each wrinkle on his forehead. He knew it was her; he would recognize her touch anywhere. It felt so real, but, alas, it was time for him to wake and leave her.
When he opened his eyes, he found that the caresses did not cease, and she was really there, her lovely face looming over him, framed by her ebony curls. She smiled as he focused and his eyes found hers. He loved that smile because he knew that she saved it just for him.
“You’re awake,” she breathed, as though she could barely believe it. He nodded faintly.
“How are you feeling?” Minerva asked, placing two fingers lightly on his lips. Albus realized that she had to touch him in order to convince herself that he was real. He smiled and reached for her hand with his good one, the one that wasn’t wounded, the hand that was not throbbing with pain.
“Tired,” he whispered, so softly that she had to bend down to hear him. He smiled wearily when her hair touched his cheek, and he wondered briefly why she had it down.
“Can I see it, Albus?” she asked, biting her lip and hoping that what she asked was not too much. He gave a grunt of assent, and, with a nod, she was reaching for the bandage that covered his right hand, unwrapping it gingerly. She gasped when she saw his blackened, withered skin and, when he dared to look at her, she was gently massaging her chest and squeezing her eyes shut to fight tears.
“Is it that horrible, Minerva?” He had not yet seen the damage, and didn’t dare look.
“No,” she said quickly, “Well, yes.” She could not lie to him.
“What’s wrong with your chest, dear? Does it still burn, where the Stunners hit you?”
She shook her head. “Sympathy pains. I get them all the time now. The other day Pomona slipped in the corridor and I felt her pain in my chest, even though she only bruised her backside.”
Albus smiled, but Minerva could not.
“It must hurt awfully,” she said, re-covering his hand.
He nodded, but then the tears began to fall from her eyes, and he hastily added, “The pain will fade with time. I’ll be all right, Tabby.” Albus reached for her hand and tugged gently, indicating that she should lie down next to him. She did so, but the narrow hospital cots simply weren’t made for two. She ended up sprawled over his chest, and, when he laughed slightly, she smiled through her tears before beginning her transformation.
In her Animagus form, she pressed herself closely to his body, curling into a small, gray-and-black striped ball while he stroked her spine. Her purring lolled him to sleep once again, and they lay like that for hours, each taking comfort in the warmth of the other.
One Month Later
Albus’s hand had been free of its bandages for nearly a week now, but Minerva noticed that he took pains not to use it. She pondered this as he used his wand-less magic to close the curtains as moonlight began to stream through his office window. As he resumed his anxious pacing in front of his desk, she wrote the words that he dictated.
“You know, Albus, Poppy says that the chances are great that you’ll be able to re-gain full use of your hand,” she said, looking up at him. He said nothing, simply continued to walk back and forth across his office.
“Stop that; you’re making me nervous,” Minerva whispered. At her command, Albus stilled his movements in favor of pulling a chair beside her and plopping into it in frustration.
“What’s the point, Minerva?” he asked.
“What do you mean?” She placed the quill back into the pot of his favorite purple ink.
“I can’t even feel it,” Albus elaborated, “I’d rather have it burning and throbbing than simply…numb. I don’t want to use it anymore; I can’t stand to look at it!”
“Oh, Albus,” Minerva said softly. When she reached out her hand, he thought that it was to take his good one in hers, but she ignored that hand when he gave it to her. Instead, she threaded her fingers through his own black, shriveled ones.
“It could have been so much worse,” she reminded him, “You’re still here, Albus, to protect those who depend on you. You’ve come too far to give up now.” With that, she squeezed his hand.
“Can you feel me?” Minerva asked. She stood from her chair and re-seated herself on his lap. He nodded.
“Then squeeze back. Move your fingers and squeeze my hand.”
“Minerva…”
“Do it!” she demanded, clenching her hand around his. The pain returned when he attempted to curl his fingers, but he looked to her eyes and saw the determination there. The last thing in the world that he wanted was to let her down, so he worked through the burning until his hand was grasping hers limply.
“Harder,” Minerva encouraged, “As hard as you can.”
“I don’t want to break your hand.” He smiled at his own vague attempt at humor.
“I don’t care,” she said. Albus nodded and squeezed tighter, then harder still until he felt her bones sharp against his own and heard her let out a small squeal.
“I’m sorry,” he said, dropping her hand.
“Doesn’t matter,” Minerva said, throwing her arms around him, “Tomorrow we’ll work on getting you to hold a quill again so that you can write your own damn letters.”
He chuckled and pulled her closer.
“It will all be fine, Albus,” she whispered into his beard, “We’ll get through this like we do everything else.”
He pushed her back gently and took her face in both of his hands. She shuddered lightly as his injured flesh touched hers, but her eyes showed no revulsion, only bottomless love. Their lips touched as they had not for what seemed like ages, and Minerva moaned. She had missed this. He was gone for nearly two months before coming back to the castle with his injuries, and after that he had refused to touch anyone.
“Take me to bed,” she begged when they parted, moving so that she was straddling him. Albus felt her heat even through the barriers of both of their robes, and the desire stirring within him made him anxious. If he did as she asked, it would be their first time together, and it would not exactly be under the best of circumstances. He wanted to, though, Merlin knew that he did.
“I should have ages ago,” he thought, “Before I was injured, so that I could have put my hands on her without feeling so guilty, as if I were corrupting her.”
As if reading his thoughts, she took his hands once again, this time placing them both on her waist.
“Touch me, Albus,” she moaned, kissing both of his cheeks, “I don’t care about any of that. You’re still you, and I want to feel you all over me.”
They kissed as he let his hands wander over her hips, her belly and breasts, feeling her soft curves through the velvet of her robes. She somehow managed to slide from his lap without breaking their lip-lock, and she pulled him up with her. Not a word was passed between them as she resolutely made her way to his bedroom and he followed as if in a trance.
She undressed herself so that he would not have to struggle with the buttons and clasps of her robes and undergarments, and then she lay on his bed, gazing at him invitingly. It was an offer that he could not refuse. With a few whispered words, he too was nude and joining her on the bed, taking her in his arms. There was more passion and love in their coupling than either had ever before experienced in all their long lives.
“I’m yours forever, Minerva,” he whispered to her hours later, when both were spent and lying languidly amongst the purple silk of his sheets, “I love you.”
“I’ve always loved you,” she confessed, nuzzling her face into the softness of his beard, “I’ll never leave you.”
Summary: When Albus is injured by Voldemort's Horcrux, Minerva attempts to help him heal.
Time Period: After OotP, pre-HBP
Rating: I'd say PG-13 (it's T on ff.net). There is implied sex and some nudity, but nothing too racy.
"This mountain I must climb feels like the world upon my shoulders. Through the clouds I see love shine. It keeps me warm as life grows colder." - “I Want to Know What Love Is” by Foreigner
He dreamed of Minerva. In his visions, her soft hand rested on his cheek while her delicate fingers lovingly traced each wrinkle on his forehead. He knew it was her; he would recognize her touch anywhere. It felt so real, but, alas, it was time for him to wake and leave her.
When he opened his eyes, he found that the caresses did not cease, and she was really there, her lovely face looming over him, framed by her ebony curls. She smiled as he focused and his eyes found hers. He loved that smile because he knew that she saved it just for him.
“You’re awake,” she breathed, as though she could barely believe it. He nodded faintly.
“How are you feeling?” Minerva asked, placing two fingers lightly on his lips. Albus realized that she had to touch him in order to convince herself that he was real. He smiled and reached for her hand with his good one, the one that wasn’t wounded, the hand that was not throbbing with pain.
“Tired,” he whispered, so softly that she had to bend down to hear him. He smiled wearily when her hair touched his cheek, and he wondered briefly why she had it down.
“Can I see it, Albus?” she asked, biting her lip and hoping that what she asked was not too much. He gave a grunt of assent, and, with a nod, she was reaching for the bandage that covered his right hand, unwrapping it gingerly. She gasped when she saw his blackened, withered skin and, when he dared to look at her, she was gently massaging her chest and squeezing her eyes shut to fight tears.
“Is it that horrible, Minerva?” He had not yet seen the damage, and didn’t dare look.
“No,” she said quickly, “Well, yes.” She could not lie to him.
“What’s wrong with your chest, dear? Does it still burn, where the Stunners hit you?”
She shook her head. “Sympathy pains. I get them all the time now. The other day Pomona slipped in the corridor and I felt her pain in my chest, even though she only bruised her backside.”
Albus smiled, but Minerva could not.
“It must hurt awfully,” she said, re-covering his hand.
He nodded, but then the tears began to fall from her eyes, and he hastily added, “The pain will fade with time. I’ll be all right, Tabby.” Albus reached for her hand and tugged gently, indicating that she should lie down next to him. She did so, but the narrow hospital cots simply weren’t made for two. She ended up sprawled over his chest, and, when he laughed slightly, she smiled through her tears before beginning her transformation.
In her Animagus form, she pressed herself closely to his body, curling into a small, gray-and-black striped ball while he stroked her spine. Her purring lolled him to sleep once again, and they lay like that for hours, each taking comfort in the warmth of the other.
One Month Later
Albus’s hand had been free of its bandages for nearly a week now, but Minerva noticed that he took pains not to use it. She pondered this as he used his wand-less magic to close the curtains as moonlight began to stream through his office window. As he resumed his anxious pacing in front of his desk, she wrote the words that he dictated.
“You know, Albus, Poppy says that the chances are great that you’ll be able to re-gain full use of your hand,” she said, looking up at him. He said nothing, simply continued to walk back and forth across his office.
“Stop that; you’re making me nervous,” Minerva whispered. At her command, Albus stilled his movements in favor of pulling a chair beside her and plopping into it in frustration.
“What’s the point, Minerva?” he asked.
“What do you mean?” She placed the quill back into the pot of his favorite purple ink.
“I can’t even feel it,” Albus elaborated, “I’d rather have it burning and throbbing than simply…numb. I don’t want to use it anymore; I can’t stand to look at it!”
“Oh, Albus,” Minerva said softly. When she reached out her hand, he thought that it was to take his good one in hers, but she ignored that hand when he gave it to her. Instead, she threaded her fingers through his own black, shriveled ones.
“It could have been so much worse,” she reminded him, “You’re still here, Albus, to protect those who depend on you. You’ve come too far to give up now.” With that, she squeezed his hand.
“Can you feel me?” Minerva asked. She stood from her chair and re-seated herself on his lap. He nodded.
“Then squeeze back. Move your fingers and squeeze my hand.”
“Minerva…”
“Do it!” she demanded, clenching her hand around his. The pain returned when he attempted to curl his fingers, but he looked to her eyes and saw the determination there. The last thing in the world that he wanted was to let her down, so he worked through the burning until his hand was grasping hers limply.
“Harder,” Minerva encouraged, “As hard as you can.”
“I don’t want to break your hand.” He smiled at his own vague attempt at humor.
“I don’t care,” she said. Albus nodded and squeezed tighter, then harder still until he felt her bones sharp against his own and heard her let out a small squeal.
“I’m sorry,” he said, dropping her hand.
“Doesn’t matter,” Minerva said, throwing her arms around him, “Tomorrow we’ll work on getting you to hold a quill again so that you can write your own damn letters.”
He chuckled and pulled her closer.
“It will all be fine, Albus,” she whispered into his beard, “We’ll get through this like we do everything else.”
He pushed her back gently and took her face in both of his hands. She shuddered lightly as his injured flesh touched hers, but her eyes showed no revulsion, only bottomless love. Their lips touched as they had not for what seemed like ages, and Minerva moaned. She had missed this. He was gone for nearly two months before coming back to the castle with his injuries, and after that he had refused to touch anyone.
“Take me to bed,” she begged when they parted, moving so that she was straddling him. Albus felt her heat even through the barriers of both of their robes, and the desire stirring within him made him anxious. If he did as she asked, it would be their first time together, and it would not exactly be under the best of circumstances. He wanted to, though, Merlin knew that he did.
“I should have ages ago,” he thought, “Before I was injured, so that I could have put my hands on her without feeling so guilty, as if I were corrupting her.”
As if reading his thoughts, she took his hands once again, this time placing them both on her waist.
“Touch me, Albus,” she moaned, kissing both of his cheeks, “I don’t care about any of that. You’re still you, and I want to feel you all over me.”
They kissed as he let his hands wander over her hips, her belly and breasts, feeling her soft curves through the velvet of her robes. She somehow managed to slide from his lap without breaking their lip-lock, and she pulled him up with her. Not a word was passed between them as she resolutely made her way to his bedroom and he followed as if in a trance.
She undressed herself so that he would not have to struggle with the buttons and clasps of her robes and undergarments, and then she lay on his bed, gazing at him invitingly. It was an offer that he could not refuse. With a few whispered words, he too was nude and joining her on the bed, taking her in his arms. There was more passion and love in their coupling than either had ever before experienced in all their long lives.
“I’m yours forever, Minerva,” he whispered to her hours later, when both were spent and lying languidly amongst the purple silk of his sheets, “I love you.”
“I’ve always loved you,” she confessed, nuzzling her face into the softness of his beard, “I’ll never leave you.”
