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D iana woke to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar curtains and froze at the weight across her waist—Alarick's arm. Their skin still glowed with faint golden shimmer where they touched, their magical connection persisting even in sleep.

Last night's "professional debriefing" after the magical emergency had evolved into something distinctly unprofessional, resulting in her bedroom literally glowing with magical resonance.

She carefully extracted herself, sparing a glance at his peaceful face before reality crashed in. Monday morning. Patients. Responsibilities. A ten-years-younger colleague in her bed.

Great job maintaining boundaries, Maelstrom .

By the time she emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered and wrapped in a robe, she'd compiled a mental list of reasons why this was a terrible mistake. A spectacular, mind-blowing mistake—but a mistake nonetheless.

Alarick sat up in her bed with the sheet pooled around his waist, looking irritatingly comfortable. "Morning," he said, voice still rough with sleep. "You're thinking very loudly."

"I'm not thinking loudly. I'm not thinking at all," Diana replied, grabbing work robes with unnecessary focus. "Which was apparently my problem yesterday."

"Ah." His tone cooled. "We've reached the regret phase."

Diana turned to face him. "Not regret, exactly. More like delayed recognition of complications."

"Complications," he repeated flatly.

"We work together, Alarick. On a project Raven herself is monitoring." She clutched her robes like armor. "Yesterday was wonderful, but possibly a professional disaster."

To her surprise, he just nodded thoughtfully. "I understand. What do you propose?"

"Professional discretion," Diana said, relieved he wasn't dismissing her concerns. "Work during work hours. Keep personal interactions private."

"Reasonable." He rose from bed, apparently unbothered by his nudity as he gathered scattered clothing. He had a fine, muscular ass that her fingers itched to squeeze again.

So much for professionalism.

The golden shimmer traced his movements, visible evidence of their magical connection. "Though discretion doesn't mean pretending nothing happened."

"Of course not," she agreed quickly. "Just compartmentalizing."

He approached, now wearing trousers but still appealingly bare-chested. "I can compartmentalize," he said, voice dropping to that rumble that made her shiver. "But fair warning—I won't pretend I don't want you just because we're in the infirmary."

Diana swallowed hard. "That seems workable."

His kissed her lightly. Golden light sparked between them at the contact. "Good. Now I should probably sneak back to my room before the student rumor mill goes into overdrive."

After he left, Diana finished dressing with unsteady hands. She could do this. She could focus despite memories of his hands, his mouth, their beautifully fused magic.

Absolutely. No problem whatsoever.

***

D IANA'S CONFIDENT RESOLUTION lasted exactly four hours and twenty-three minutes.

The temporary infirmary had been busy all morning with defensive and offensive injuries, but that was par for the course in the summer training camps. Diana had just finished treating a freshman with a deflection burn when Alarick arrived to work on the far wall. He'd greeted her professionally, maintained appropriate distance, and focused entirely on his task.

It was infuriating how sexy he looked when concentrating on complex warding spells.

"Nurse Maelstrom?" Malta interrupted Diana's inappropriate thoughts, flanked by Polly and Irideane. "We need help with... um... a medical situation."

Diana raised an eyebrow, noting their conspicuous lack of injuries. "What kind of medical situation, Miss Kenobrie?"

"It's... private." Malta's eyes darted to where Alarick worked, making her true motive painfully obvious.

With a sigh, Diana led them to the examination area, closing the privacy curtain. "What seems to be the problem?"

The girls exchanged glances before Malta blurted, "We were wondering if you could tell us more about Mr. Blackthorn? For our... health class project."

"Your health class project," Diana repeated flatly.

"About... healing ward integration," Polly added quickly. "Since he's working on the infirmary."

"And how old is he?" Irideane asked with zero subtlety. "Just for research."

Diana pinched the bridge of her nose. "Ladies, Mr. Blackthorn is not part of any curriculum, and his age is entirely irrelevant to any legitimate school project."

"But he's, like, super young to be so good at warding magic, right?" Malta pressed. "My sister says most ward specialists are practically ancient."

"Mr. Blackthorn is twenty-five, has extensive training, and is not a subject for teenage speculation," Diana said sharply, ignoring the twinge at acknowledging their age gap. "Unless you have actual medical concerns, I suggest you return to class."

"Twenty-five," Irideane breathed, impressed. "So he's totally available."

"He's a professional contractor working on a school project," Diana corrected, her voice too sharp. "He is not available as it would be inappropriate, not to mention illegal to be involved with students."

Something in her tone made the girls exchange looks. "Sorry, Nurse Maelstrom," Malta said, not looking sorry at all. "We had no idea you were already, you know..."

"I'm not upset," Diana said automatically.

"Right." Malta nodded with exaggerated understanding. "Got it. We'll respect your... territory."

“There is no...territory.”

After they left, Diana leaned against the examination table, embarrassed by her defensive reaction. She'd practically announced her interest with that response.

"Everything okay?" Alarick appeared at the curtain, looking concerned. "Those girls seemed upset when they left."

"They'll survive the crushing disappointment of not getting details about your personal life," Diana replied dryly. "Apparently you're the subject of their 'health class project.'"

His lips twitched. "Let me guess—they wanted to know if I'm single and have no morals about corrupting young witches?"

"Something like that." Diana busied herself rearranging supplies. "I informed them professional contractors aren't appropriate subjects for teenage infatuation."

"Ah." Alarick leaned against the doorframe, studying her with those too-perceptive eyes. "And did you also tell them that I'm currently occupied with an inappropriate infatuation of my own?"

Before Diana could respond, the infirmary door burst open and the potions professor, Minerva Runeheart came in.

"I’m glad I caught you in between patients." She paused, noting their proximity and the tension between them. Her eyes widened before a knowing smile spread across her face. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Not at all," Diana said quickly, stepping away from Alarick. "Did you need healing assistance?"

"Actually, yes." Minerva's gaze kept darting between them. "We're planning an advanced demonstration of combat spells tomorrow. Given the potential for accidents, I wanted to coordinate you for safety measures."

“What type of demonstration?” Minerva asked.

“Professor Guillet from Frog’s Hollow is coming in to show several dueling options.”

“We’re going to need specialized containment wards,” Alarick said. “I’ve seen Xena Guillet in action.”

I bet you had , Diana thought sourly.

Xena showed up last term offering Alarick a career-making opportunity with significant advancement potential and young, innovative colleagues. Xena had barely concealed her surprise when Alarick mentioned at the time that his current project lead was "Nurse Maelstrom." Her "Oh, I remember her from when I was a student" had been the conversational equivalent of a slap.

"I'll need to modify the standard containment spells," Alarick said thoughtfully. "Dueling magic could produce chaotic magical signatures that typical wards can't fully contain."

"And I'll prepare specialized counterspells and other medicinal needs. Especially for magical concussions," Diana added.

Minerva nodded. “I knew I came to the right place.”

"When and where is this demonstration scheduled?"

"Tomorrow morning, east practice field. I need to get back to the potion lab. These kids are going through healing potions like Gatorade. In fact, Archie has me working on a formula that acts both like an electrolyte fresher and a healing potion. I’ll see you two tomorrow.” Minerva hustled out, not knowing or caring the amount of extra work she had just dumped on them.

***

L ATER THAT AFTERNOON , Professor Everflame burst into the infirmary, practically dragging a lanky sophomore boy who was floating several inches above the ground, spinning in slow, uncontrollable circles.

"It's Bartholomew Taleggio" she said. "His shield went haywire during practice."

Bartholomew revolved like a human compass needle, gangly limbs flailing as he tried to grab onto anything stable. His tie floated up to smack him in the face with each rotation, and his uniform robe billowed out dramatically.

"This is SO not cool," he groaned, voice cracking mid-sentence. "Dude, make it stop. Seriously. Mimmolette saw me like this."

Diana bit her lip to keep from laughing. "Let me see what we're dealing with." Her diagnostic spell revealed the problem instantly. "Your shield has inverted and created a personal anti-gravity field."

"Whatever. Please, just fix it." Bartholomew’s face a mix of teenage mortification and nausea. "If this ends up on someone's crystal ball social feed, my life is over. OVER!"

"I'll need help," Diana said, turning to Alarick. "The spell's warped into his magical aura."

Alarick joined them, maintaining a straight face despite Bartholomew's dramatic declarations of impending social death. "Never seen a shield turn into orbital magic before."

"I need a containment field," Diana explained. "Otherwise, when I break the spell—"

"Everyone in a ten-foot radius starts orbiting too," Alarick finished. "On it."

He quickly spun a magical barrier around them while Diana prepared her counter-spell. As they worked together, golden threads appeared where their magic met, weaving an intricate web around the spinning student.

"So unfair," Bartholomew mumbled as he rotated past. "Chaumes tries the same spell and gets extra credit. I try it and become a human satellite."

"Oh my," Professor Guillet gasped, watching Diana and Alarick work. "That's not normal, is it? The gold webbing between you two?"

Diana and Alarick exchanged panicked glances.

"Standard procedure," Diana lied, focusing on Bartholomew's predicament. "Magical stabilization technique."

"Completely routine," Alarick agreed, though the golden threads multiplied when their eyes met.

"Hello?" Bartholomew interrupted with peak teenage indignation. "I'm missing lunch and Taco Tuesday waits for no man."

Working together, they managed to break the rogue spell. Bartholomew dropped to the floor with a thud, then immediately scrambled to check his hair in the reflection of a nearby metal cabinet.

"Is my hair messed up? It's messed up, isn't it? Great, just great." He frantically tried to fix his disheveled appearance. "Can I get a note saying this was a medical emergency and not me trying some stupid spell to impress Mimmolette?"

"Patient confidentiality," Diana assured him, handing him an anti-nausea potion. "Though you might want to avoid Taco Tuesday for lunch."

"Whatever," Bartholomew muttered, though he looked relieved. "Um, thanks and stuff." He bolted for the door with Professor Guillet lecturing after him.

After they left, Alarick turned to Diana with a grin."So that happened."

"Teenagers," Diana said. "Everything is either the best thing ever or the literal end of the world."

"I'm adding 'Human Gyroscope Containment' to my resume," Alarick said with a straight face.

Diana snorted despite herself. "Very professional."

"Speaking of professional..." He gestured to the golden threads still connecting them where their magic had interacted. "Do you think Guillet bought our 'standard procedure' explanation?"

"About as much as I believe Bartholomew was just doing his classwork instead of trying to impress a girl," Diana said.

***

T HAT EVENING AT FACULTY dinner, Diana sat beside Alarick at the high table, increasingly aware of their magical fusion still humming between them. Occasionally their hands would brush as they reached for dishes, each casual contact sending a ripple of golden light that Diana prayed wasn't visible to their colleagues.

Halfway through the meal, she felt something brush against her foot. Glancing down, she discovered a garden gnome sitting under the table.

"What the—" she hissed, nudging Alarick.

He looked down, eyes widening before his lips curved in amusement. "We have company."

The gnome made a series of gestures that seemed to be encouraging them to sit closer together, then pointed at their hands with enthusiastic approval—right where the faint golden shimmer was most visible.

"Shoo," Diana whispered, trying to nudge it away with her foot. The gnome dodged, looking offended, then scurried out from under the table.

She thought that was the end of it until a commotion erupted at the Newttown High School’s table. A bunch of kids were pointing and giggling as the garden gnome climbed onto their table, pantomiming some kind of romantic scenario using salt and pepper shakers.

"Is that gnome... proposing?" Alarick asked incredulously.

Diana watched in horror as the gnome arranged the salt and pepper shakers side by side, then used a napkin to craft a tiny bridal veil for the salt shaker. It placed a miniature ring made from a bread twist-tie on the pepper shaker, then began conducting an elaborate wedding ceremony, complete with dramatic pantomime of tearful vows.

"It's marrying us off," Diana hissed as the gnome made the shakers kiss. "Via condiment proxy."

The girls were beside themselves with delight, while faculty members began craning their necks to watch the bizarre performance.

"This is ridiculous," Diana muttered, resisting the urge to slide under the table.

"They sense magical fusion," Alarick whispered, amusement evident. "Garden gnomes are attuned to it. It's why they've been following me around since we started working together."

"You mean they knew before we did?" Diana hissed, mortified.

"Magical creatures often do," he replied softly. "They recognize compatible magic before humans notice it."

The gnome, satisfied with its performance, took a theatrical bow before hopping down and scurrying toward the exit. As it passed the head table, it paused to make a gesture toward Diana and Alarick that could only be described as obscene.

"I need to get out of here." Diana stood abruptly, ignoring curious glances. She fled back to her room, both relieved and disappointed that Alarick didn’t follow her.

She needed to know more about what was going on with the golden threads. She waited for Professor Everflame to head back to the library before ambushing her with questions.

"Magical fusion is incredibly rare," Professor Everflame explained when Diana cautiously inquired about the golden threads. "It happens when two magical cores are so compatible they naturally reach for each other. The ancient texts call it 'amoris veneficium' - love magic - though that's a bit romantic for academic purposes."

"And these... connections are visible?" Diana asked, trying to sound merely professionally curious.

"Only in advanced cases, and typically only to those experiencing it. Though magical creatures can often sense it." Everflame gave her a knowing look. "Have the garden gnomes been acting strangely around you lately?"

Diana felt her face warm. "I wouldn't know. I don't make a habit of observing garden gnome behavior."

"Mmm," Everflame smiled. "Well, if golden light appears when you touch someone, I'd suggest having a very honest conversation with that person. Magical fusion doesn't create feelings, Diana, but it does amplify what's already there."

That was helpful. And terrifying.

“Here, read this.” She handed her a thick tome, "Magical Fusion: Extraordinary Connection and its Risks" by Archmage Burrata Morbier. The yellowed pages contained detailed accounts of fused magical pairs achieving feats impossible for individual mages.

Diana took it back to her room to read. It was boring as heck and she skipped a great deal of it. But as she turned to the final chapter, "Dangers of Dependence," her stomach tightened. Morbier warned that prolonged fusion could eventually make separated magic unstable, like muscles atrophying without use. In rare cases, forced separation had resulted in permanent magical impairment.

Diana closed the book slowly. Her healing magic had improved based on their connection. It was beginning to worry her how her spells seemed to instinctively reach for his energy to complete themselves. The thought of losing that connection was increasingly terrifying—not just emotionally, but professionally. Was she risking her lifelong healing abilities for love? And was that a price she was willing to pay? She’d have to do more research. But for now, they had Adelweiss to deal with.