Megan stood in the kitchen, her trembling hand on the breadth of her stomach, the baby only days from its due date. She took in an uneven breath, and steadied herself by leaning on the counter. Her hand was still warm from being held in Kingsley's for so long, but his words were drowned out in her mind by the memory of Zacharias' voice from nine months ago.
"… a girl this time; a princess who looks exactly like her beautiful Mum."
She could feel the ghost of his scattered kisses on her face and she raised one hand to touch them. A smile fell on her lips, but then Kingsley's voice was stronger; overshadowing the warm memory.
"I'm so sorry, Megan. We have reason to believe that they're all dead."
"That's just not possible, Kingsley. It's not…I'd know—"
But she already knew. Once she opened the door, and found Kingsley there, she knew. Their eyes met and he let her delay the inevitable by silently watching her fix coffee and search the cupboards for the tin of biscuits that were lying in front of him on the work top the entire time. He was soothing and calm, if a little off his game from the magnitude of the loss. Little Neville had run in, startling her with his likeness to his father that she dropped her mug. It clattered, and she gasped, grabbing Neville's arm, hardly slowing him down. He laughed, pulling away from her, and the tears filled her eyes as she watched him turn around to chase Wayne into the kitchen.
She could hear the boys in the sitting room. Wayne's giggle and the kneazle's shriek told her exactly what the boys were doing, and she rushed in to settle them down for a bit. She knew that she couldn't last much longer. There was a pang of pressure in her stomach as she lifted Wayne and held him close. She put him down next to the sofa, indicating to Neville to join him while she tossed the kneazle out into the garden, setting the protection spells in place. When she returned to the sitting room, she set the basket of books and toys between them and tousled Neville's hair, sprinting up the stairs, and closing the door to her bedroom before falling to her knees beside the bed she had shared with Zacharias for the past five years.
She wasn't sure what to believe. She trusted Kingsley, and she knew that he wouldn't have told her that Zacharias was dead if there was any doubt in his mind, but there was no verification from Ireland. He was only going for a few days! They had defeated Voldemort…how could they all be gone?
Dead.
She began to hyperventilate. Her breaths couldn't catch up to her tears, and she struggled to take in the air she needed, letting it out in forceful gasps, clutching her stomach from the pain of it all. Megan's face was wet and she clutched at the bedcovers, his pillow cool against the flush of her cheek. She inhaled deeply, her eyes closed tight, sensing what was left of him in the bed.
"Of course, you're going. I'd go if I could. Do you think I could?" She gestured towards her belly and Zacharias laughed, drawing her into his arms, kissing her nose as she continued, "Did Neville say how long?"
Zacharias shook his head only barely as he pressed his face into her hair, pulling it free of the elastic, brushing it loose with his fingers. "I love you, Meggie."
"Zach—"
"Shh," he whispered into her hair, pressing another kiss there. "I'll be back in a couple of days." He poked one finger into her stomach, "And you! You better wait for Daddy." He opened his hand and pushed gently on her stomach while his other hand fit into the small of Megan's back, pulling her closer. He rubbed his face against her cheek, kissing her several times in succession before he left.
The memory of those soft sweet kisses was washed away by her tears. She could hear the boys beginning to get restless with the selection of toys and books she had left them with and knew that she'd have to pull herself together and get down there before they were the ones crying. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, taking the time to rise, carefully steadying herself on the edge of the bed. Her legs shook and she was still out of breath from her emotional outburst, which was threatening to break again, but she needed to take care of her boys.
Get yourself together, she thought, only just keeping the words silent. She glanced out of the large window in their bedroom. She had opened the curtains wide when she woke up. She loved the sunlight, and on days that the children let her sleep, Zacharias would open the curtains to reveal the day for her before Flooing to work. She bit her lip as she stared out at the world; a different one than the one she went to sleep in. The rumors had been swirling for the last few days, but until she heard directly from Zacharias…or her mother, she refused to believe what was being said. Hestia had been recalled yesterday. All of the retired Aurors were called back in once the account of what had happened became known, but it wasn't possible. Not all of them; not all of them.
The world outside her window was deceptive. Bright blue sky. Hard to believe even that the color of the sky was real; that it wasn't painted with magic. A couple of fluffy clouds hung suspended, the purest white floating by only added to the storybook feeling. Birds were chirping. It was idyllic. As if a child's fairy tale had erupted in her front garden. Flowers had just begun to burst from their mud. In fact, she had planned on taking the boys out this morning to plant some seeds; get those tomatoes and carrots going for the summer. Neville loved it last year, and he wanted to share it with Wayne now that he was old enough to water and cover the seeds without eating them. She smiled at the thought of her two boys. That was their new tradition. They'd done it the first year after the Battle of Hogwarts. It was really her, Neville was still a tiny baby, but it gave her something to do after the memorial ceremony, and as he grew older, they would come out to the garden before going to the Hogwarts' memorial, and plant seeds. It was something living that they could do before being reminded of so much death.
They had their rubber boots on and Neville had helped Wayne with his old gardening gloves – his first pair of dragon hide gloves, but his hands were bigger now, so he gave those special ones to Wayne. Wayne had been jumping up and down by the kitchen door, waiting as patiently as a two year old can wait for Mummy.
But then—
"We're as certain as we can be. No one's coming home, Megan."
Kingsley's deep voice echoed in her head. We're certain. No doubt. I'm sorry. Sorry. Sorry. No, I don't…I don't have the details. She knew that was a lie. He knew more than he was saying. She forced her gaze away from the sky and turned to grasp the doorknob. The cold metal jolted her again and the shiver that shook her body this time was different and fear gripped her, but not as much as the next wave of pain that brought her once more to her knees. She kept the cry from escaping, but in doing so, she bit down on her lip until she tasted blood. There was a surge of nausea and she made to rise again, stopping halfway through, still stooped over, very conscious of the steadiness of the ache that moved from her stomach to her back. And then the whoosh, more a feeling than a physical act as the dampness began trickling down her legs.
She looked down in horror as her trousers darkened in places, and yet still needed to put her free hand down to feel the wetness for herself, in spite of everything trying to talk herself into the false sense of comfort that this could not possibly be happening now.
"Oh sweet Merlin! No, no, no, no, no! You're supposed to wait for your Daddy!"
Megan began to fall apart again, but rising voices from the sitting room overtook her senses and she turned the knob and pulled the door open with such force that it bounced off the adjacent wall. She stood at the top of the stairs, gripping the banister, hoping that gravity and her off-balance feet she hadn't seen in three months wouldn't carry her down the stairs quicker than she wanted. Another contraction went through her, stopping her on the top step, and luckily she was able to lean back and sit down on the floor.
She laughed, tears spilling freely down her face now. She moved forward until she moved down one step. She continued this sliding down on her bum, one step at a time until she was at the bottom, the boys' voices getting clearer with each thud that was moving her down on the steps.
She was able to steady herself on the furniture and made her way over to the fireplace, settling herself on her knees and reaching for the Floo powder while gently speaking to Neville.
"Neville, it's time to go to Granny's. Get your things that you and Daddy packed, and bring Wayne's bag as well, alright, love? I'll call St. Mungo's and you bring yours and your brother's bags here."
Neville was reading a book, and only glanced up at his mother briefly before kicking Wayne's stuffed griffin away from his brother. Megan took a deep breath, not as deep as she would have liked, but with a baby pressing on both lungs and bladder it was all she could do to get that one. "Neville," she began more urgently, "sweetie, now. Please."
Their eyes met, and she nearly lost her composure as her husband's eyes looked back at her. "Now," she exhaled deeply, turning back to the fireplace, tossing the powder in and watching as the flames roared green before her.
The pains were becoming more intense. This was going to be difficult. Megan could tell. Her eyes filled with tears again, remembering Wayne's birth, certainly the easiest, but Megan wasn't sure if that was because Wayne was such a good calm-tempered boy or because that was the one that Zacharias was there for. She bit the inside of her cheek. She would not think about that. She could not think about Zacharias at this moment. The idea of this baby being the last was nearly too much to bear. How would she get through this day, let alone the rest of her life without him?
She stuck her head in the flames, squeaking out weakly, "St. Mungo's A&E."
After a moment, the hustle and bustle of the emergency department at St. Mungo's was there, in sound only since all Megan couldn't see past the waiting area. "Yes, ma'am. What seems to be the nature of the emergency?"
"Baby. I'm having a baby…in labor." Her voice started out as faint, but gained in strength, realizing how much she needed St. Mungo's help right now. She could not falter.
"Okay. Let me ask you a few questions first."
"Alright," Megan said dryly. "I'm sure the baby won't mind waiting."
"Sorry?"
"Nothing. Yes, of course, I'll answer your questions, but my paperwork should already be there. My husband and I, we preregistered two weeks ago, and filled out all of our forms then. It should be under Smith."
"Name?"
Megan stared into the flames, not seeing the person on the other end who was speaking to her. There were cubicles beyond the waiting area, and she guessed that the clerk was in one of them. She resigned herself to the bureaucracy. "Smith," she repeated. "Megan Smith."
"Is this your first pregnancy?"
"No. This is my third." Megan began to breathe in series of three gasps out and a deep breath in. It wasn't really helping, but it gave her something to do, and if she were counting breaths and answering questions, she couldn't wonder what the boys were up to or how it might have been different if Zach were here.
"Oh. I see then. Well, you'll simply have to remain at home until your labor is underway."
"My labor is underway. Right now. At the moment."
"I'm sorry, Mrs….Smith, was it. Well, Mrs. Smith, we're only taking emergency cases currently, but let's see what's going on there, so whoever is home can help you deliver the baby. Is your sac intact?"
"Deliver the baby here? No, I'm coming to St. Mungo's—"
"No ma'am. Emergencies only, but let's continue with the questions, please. Is your sac intact?"
"No. My water's broken—"
"I see. Any blood in the fluid?"
"No."
"How far apart are your contractions?"
"I haven't been timing them. I'll need someone to take my boys when we arrive. They're four and three." She paused to breathe through the next contraction.
"No. I'm very sorry, Mrs. Smith. This is not an emergency. As I stated at the beginning of our conversation, we are only accepting emergencies. You may not be aware of the catastrophe in Ireland at the moment, but our facility is on lockdown. Emergencies only. If your case should turn into an emergency—"
"This is an emergency!" Megan fell to her hands supporting herself now on both hands and knees, panting erratically. "I can't deliver this baby myself! I have two small children here—"
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Smith. Perhaps you haven't heard about what's going on in Ireland—"
"Going on…Ireland! Have you lost your fucking mind?!"
"Mrs. Smith—"
"Of all the insane, insensitive, arse-backwards things—"
"Mrs. Smith—"
"I am coming to St. Mungo's in ten minutes and I swear by fucking Merlin's balls that if I ever find out who it is behind these flames—"
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Smith. That sort of language just won't do. There will be no unauthorized Floos into St. Mungo's. You should calm yourself down and contact a relative, preferably someone with childbirth experience. Perhaps, your husband can leave work to assist you. Please do not hesitate to contact us if your condition changes into an actual emergency."
"My husband?!" Megan sputtered out. "Are you fucking kidding me?! Are you out of your fucking mind?! Do you think I'd be Flooing you if my husband—"
"I hope that I have provided you with the very best customer service. Good luck with your growing family and if we could be of any assistance in the future, do not hesitate to Floo us again."
Megan looked up, her hair matted to her face from the sweat and tears, a string of curses on the tip of her tongue. The green glow was gone and Megan was half in the fireplace, half on the carpet.
She screamed. It was primal. It should have felt good, but it felt hollow. It was the kind of scream that's followed by silence and for Megan, there was only the thudding in her head as she fell to the floor in a massive release. Her breathing seemed to stop. She was wet. Everywhere. Her face soaked with tears, sweat pouring down her chest, her knickers and the floor beneath her as the rest of her sac broke and emptied from the baby.
She could see the boys; Wayne was crying, clutching his stuffed toy, crawling towards the sofa. Neville was crying also, but Megan couldn't hear him, only the beating of her heart echoing in her ears; the pounding behind her eyes. She wanted to close them, but they stared out at the scene before her.
Neville put his face in hers, and stroked her hair, using his small fingers to brush it back from her forehead. He kissed her and moved behind her.
Her back shook from new sobs, and the lingering fog in her head remained; a cloud pushing her deeper into her despair. She knew she needed to bring herself together as she watched Wayne disappear under the sofa. She barely heard Neville speaking behind her. She heard a second voice, calm, composed, peaceful. Megan closed her eyes, only opening them when Neville crawled into her arms. She nestled his head with her chin and closed her eyes again.
"It's all right, Mummy. Help is coming." He slid his hand into hers.
Megan began to cry again.
***
Megan kept her eyes closed tight. The pain in her stomach was a constant dull throb now, with only the occasional searing walloping through her.
When Neville was pulled from her arms, she let him go willingly, and she kept her eyes closed. She heard a man's voice and flinched, started for a moment, excited for that moment, but the accent was all wrong and she whimpered, thinking she'd rather die than relive the morning's events.
Strong hands lifted her to sitting, and she kept her eyes closed, shaking her head. She was scarcely speaking and she wasn't listening to the voice saying her name. It was a faraway, wistful voice, very soothing and it smoothed the pain, pushing it to a bearable place until the words finally made sense to Megan's ear.
"It's all right, Megan. We're going to take care of you. Neville's been a good little man, taking care of his Mummy, and now we're going to have this little one join us; all right then?"
Megan nodded. "The boys—"
"The boys are well. Rolf's taking care of them. He'll fix them something to eat. Where's Wayne?"
"Under the sofa" was Neville's quiet reply. He sounded teary, finally able to let his own fears out with aid having arrived.
Megan felt the magic envelop her from Luna's wand. The sharp pains subsided and between the magic and Luna's assistance, they made their way back to her bedroom. She stripped down and cleaned herself off, using her own wand to dry herself more quickly. Her arms slipped into her dressing gown, which she pulled closed, rubbing her hand over her stomach.
"No!" She hadn't intended to shout at Luna, but when Luna tried to move the photograph, Megan snatched it from her, running her finger over Zach's smiling face. He was laughing and pointing at her from the frame, holding Neville close to his cheek.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly, not looking at Luna. "I want to keep that out." Megan climbed carefully into the bed, steadying herself with the hand not hanging onto the photograph like a lifeline, while Luna shook out the sheet she would cover her legs with.
Zach had already reached the door of their bedroom, but turned when she said his name out loud. His face was a mix of indulgent husband and anxious Auror, and he paused, one hand on the doorknob, as patiently as a man with a mission could be.
"Have you got your mobile?" she asked in that way that feigned the concern, trying not to reveal the actual nagging in her voice.
He smiled at her, patting his trousers' pocket. "Right here. It's not as though I ever use it though. Gary's been warned off any attempts at cleaning the garage, hasn't he?"
Megan laughed. "I think he's promised for this month at least."
Zacharias laughed and before turning to leave, raised his hand to his lips, kissing his fingers and waving to her.
She leaned back on the pillow that Luna had propped behind her and touched her hair, thinking of when he kissed her there just last week. Who knew that she'd never see him again?
After she covered Megan's legs with the cool sheet, Luna non-verbally conjured candles that alit themselves once they found their places on the chest of drawers and the fireplace mantle. Several more hung, suspended from the ceiling. Another flick of the wand started music playing, softly in the background, but Megan flicked her own wand to switch on the Wizarding Wireless Network.
"It's all right, Meg. Whatever you need, whatever you like near you, just let me know," she said in a soft voice.
With that quiet nature of Luna's, she was both stillness and storm, a force of nature that Megan once had sneered at but now welcomed into her birthing room; as well as her mourning room. How appropriate that someone of Luna's duality be the one to help her through this day.
Luna's hand on her shoulder was strong; supportive and gentle; comforting. Megan stared at the photograph still in her hand. She took a deep breath and laid the frame over her heart, her body shaking all over again from her sobs.
Luna ran a soothing hand through Megan's hair. "Ready?"
Megan shook her head, but the baby churned and turned inside, twisting and stretching her stomach out, letting her know that it didn't much matter if she were ready; the one in charge was ready.
Megan looked up at Luna still standing beside her and tried to smile, but couldn't manage it before she broke down once more, her tears showering the glass of the picture frame. The Zacharias in the photograph scrunched up his face and brushed the wet off his sleeves with a look that was half laugh, half disgust.
Megan used the edge of her dressing gown to wipe her wet face, almost smiling at the Zach in the photo, but she could feel the pressure building and looked to Luna, expecting her to direct her. She shouldn't need Luna's instructions though. She really should know what to do. St. Mungo's was right. This should be easy. This was her third child – no real emergency. How hard could it be? She took a deep breath and reached for Luna's hand, which her friend grasped tightly. Megan felt the strength coursing through her. She looked at the photo of her husband, bringing it close to her face. She whispered against the glass, her breaths creating swirls of fog on the reflection. "I love you." She kissed the photo through the glass and placed it gently on the stand beside the bed.
"I'm ready, Luna." There was an immense amount of pressure on her lower stomach, and it took a moment for Megan to be able to breathe. She smiled at Luna. "It seems as though this baby is ready as well."
"Well, I knew she'd let you know when she was ready."
"She? Do you really think so?" Megan felt an excitement return – a girl; that would be wonderful.
Luna nodded in concurrence.
"I hope so," Megan said in a voice barely above a whisper. "Zacharias wanted a girl this time." She bit back her tears as she and Luna exchanged a sad look. She'd have to control what she was feeling in order to get through this birth. She needed all her strength for the baby. There would be plenty of time for the mourning.
The pain now was coming in spasms, becoming more intense with each contraction. They were much closer together and Luna's bustling around the room and getting things ready was beginning to get on Megan's nerves. She knew it wasn't Luna's fault—she wasn't doing anything terribly bothersome—the situation was simply untenable. Megan wanted this over, but she also wanted to try and wait for Zacharias. She had taken on that determination of a three-year old in a sweet shop. She didn't care what Kingsley had said. There was something he wasn't telling her; something he was leaving out and that gave her hope that he was wrong; that Zacharias might yet come home. And if there was a chance that he'd come home, she wanted to wait for him.
The baby, on the other hand, had other ideas, and she, or he, was determined to make its presence known, even if it wasn't ready to actually make an appearance.
Megan breathed through the next wave of pain. Luna was putting pressure on the small of her back to try to alleviate some of it. That helped immensely. Luna had her hair tied up with a chopstick, her wand stuck behind her ear. Some of her hair was sticking out and falling from the strange hair-stick, but it worked. It was so Luna. She was humming and her soft lilt when she spoke combined with the candles did a lot to settle Megan into a calmer place, but there was something still on her mind.
"Luna, where's my wand?"
"Oh, Meg, you won't need your wand."
"I'd like to listen to the wireless."
"Perhaps, later." Luna stepped away from the bed.
"Luna—"
Luna began to hum, keeping her back to Megan. This was the second time that Megan asked for the wireless to be turned on, and instead of doing it, Luna found something else to do at that moment. Megan tried to twist her body to search her bedside table for her own wand, but squeaked in pain. Luna rushed over, applying the pressure to her back again, handing her the potion she had been making at the bureau. Megan drank it slowly.
She pulled a face, sticking her tongue out. "This is disgusting, Luna."
"Yes, it is," Luna agreed and turned to go.
"Luna, please," Megan pleaded, grabbing her hand to keep her from moving too far away from the bed.
Megan saw the look in her friend's eyes – a combination of sadness and resignation, but then her blue eyes steeled over, determined again. "Perhaps, later, Megan."
"What was that potion for?"
"To relax you and get you ready for the baby."
Megan leaned her head back against the headboard, her hands folded over the top of her stomach.
Luna pressed a hand to Megan's belly, using her other hand to insert two fingers. Megan held her breath as Luna put more pressure on her stomach, and she felt the baby move, seeming almost as annoyed by the intrusion as Megan. Megan bent over in pain as the baby kicked and she fought the urge to pee. That was a false feeling, she knew. Her bladder was empty and had been for quite awhile.
Luna removed her hands from Megan and washed them.
"Very soon, Megan," she said with a smile. "I'll go check on the boys. Will you be all right for a few moments?"
Megan nodded. "Yes." She leaned back against the propped pillows, another tight feeling moving across her back and chest. She bit her lip and breathed out through clenched teeth. Pulling her dressing gown closed, she tilted her head towards the door. She wiped the sweat from her neck with her hand, which she in turn dried on her sheet.
When the door clicked closed, Megan sat up, but waited until she heard Luna's footsteps fade away. She slid out from under the sheet and swung her legs over the side of the bed, crossing the room to rummage through her top dresser drawer. She glanced at the picture of Zach in the yellow frame. He was wearing his newly pressed Auror's robes for his first day after finishing the Academy. He frowned at Megan from the frame and waggled his finger at her.
"Don't look at me like that, Zacharias. You would do precisely the same thing."
The photo shook his head.
"Where is it?"
He gave her a wide-eyed innocent look that reminded her of the last Mothering Sunday when he snuck her out and away from the boys. That was only a few weeks ago.
"My wand, Zacharias. You must have seen where Luna put it." She put her hands on her hips, not sure if she was able to intimidate the photo as much as the man. "Tell me."
He grinned at her and shook his head, but she had seen his eye peek over to his own dresser and when she glanced over her shoulder and looked back, she definitely saw him frown.
She darted over and found it on top, under his paperwork that he never handed in when his Galleon went off and he rushed off to meet Neville at that warehouse in Belfast.
"Aha!" She turned in triumph to the picture who shook his head again. "Back to bed like a good girl," she said for him as she climbed back into their bed. She tucked her legs in under the sheet and flicked her wand at the Wireless. It didn't take long to find the news, but before Megan could hear anything about what was going on, Luna returned.
She stopped short looking directly at the offending noise on the fireplace mantle, and tapped her wand on the box, silencing the commentator before she quietly closed the bedroom door, latching it.
"Luna!"
"Megan, you don't need that distraction. I'm sure the baby's nearly ready. I have some lovely music that I found when Rolf and I were on safari last year."
"I don't like the sound of drums."
"No drums. Pan pipes and a stringed instrument like a dulcimer. There was this remote village at the edge of a waterfall. They had a supply of that plant resin I told you about the last time we all got together at The Leaky for lunch. Do you remember?"
"I don't." She stared at Luna's back as she fiddled with something and glanced at the wireless, and then back to Luna, who was still busy.
Megan pulled her wand from under her pillow and waved it wordlessly at the wireless. The satisfactory grin had barely settled on her mouth when she saw Luna raise her hand.
Silence again.
"Luna! I want to hear the Wizarding Wireless News. I want to hear what has happened to my husband! Right now." She enunciated each word through closed teeth.
"Megan. You shouldn't be listening to that right now. You should be concentrating on having this baby in a quiet, cheerful place. There will be plenty of time to know what's happened to all of them." She had crossed the room and gave Megan another potion, leaving a comforting hand on her shoulder while she drank.
"What is this one for?"
"Tranquility."
Megan drank up and made the usual face that the vile weeds in it made her do, but only glanced briefly at Luna before handing her back the beaker and waving her wand at the wireless. "I'm sorry, Luna. I need to know."
She closed her eyes as she leaned back, and heard Luna's footsteps withdraw. She knew that Luna wouldn't turn it off this time. There was a bit of crackling from the box above the small, cozy fireplace. It was too warm in here today for a fire, but she remembered their last one. She could picture Zach squatting down in front of the hearth, stoking the fire that last time. It had actually snowed that night. That was unusual for this area, but Megan thought that the weather had been turning stranger lately. She thought about last summer's hailstorm that she and the boys got caught in. She kept her eyes closed, wondering if she'd chosen the wrong station, but then the crackling of the wireless came alive again.
"As we've been telling you most of the day today, Britain has quarantined Northern Ireland. No one in or out. Both the North and the Republic of Ireland have been placed under a lockdown, both for Muggles and Wizards. We've been monitoring the situation since the battle on the 1st. Rioting continues in the streets and the death toll rises.
"We had held out hope that the former teenage heroes, known as Dumbledore's Army when they defeated Lord Voldemort, would be able to defeat this new threat, known as the Diabhal Dubh. They were all killed.
"Yes, listeners, we can confirm that everyone who went to Ireland to fight has been lost. There were no survivors. Most of the bodies or parts of bodies could not be identified other than those with the most distinguishing marks. The Daily Prophet is still debating over whether or not they will be publishing the gruesome photographs of the body parts being paraded in the streets of Belfast."
Megan clutched the pillow to her face and screamed. Visceral. It took all the breath from her lungs. Her head was thudding, ears closed, sounding as though water were filling them, a band tightening around her skull. Her jaw dropped open. She hadn't realized that tears were flowing down her cheeks. She could see Luna out of the corner of her eye, standing in the same place near the dresser, her hands covering her mouth, staring at Megan, and Megan staring at the end of the bed, avoiding looking at the radio. If she looked at the radio, it would be true. It wasn't true. It wasn't true.
She tried to breathe.
"So far," the radio announcer continued, "positively identified on sight were Harry Potter, Charlie Weasley, George Weasley and Anthony Goldstein. Harry Potter, of course, identified by the distinctive lightening shaped scar on his forehead. This patch of skin carried gruesomely apart from his body."
Megan struggled for breath as her stomach churned, or was that the baby moving again?
"One of the white-robed figures carried the arm, believed to belong to Charlie Weasley, his dragon tattoos featuring prominently. The Diabhal Dubh, a silver-bearded man, satisfied with his victory, wasn't afraid to be out in the streets with his followers, showing off trophies of war –jewelry from some of the women, wedding rings—"
"What?"
"Other treasures seen were a medical bag, broken broomsticks, a ponytail. More on this breaking news story as the details emerge from Ireland. Just to repeat for those of you first joining us. The island that encompasses the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland are quarantined. No one will be permitted to go there or to leave. Deaths number in the hundreds following a battle that saw many of our heroes from the days of Voldemort perish, many of them being dismembered. There are rumors of sacrifices and altars. We're working on getting as much information out to you as possible, but with the entire island under a lockdown, it is virtually impossible to get any kind of accurate information."
His voice trailed off. It didn't trail off as much as Megan's mind was full of many things at once. She hadn't realized that the pillow was still over her face, between her head and her pulled up knees. She wasn't conscious of the fact that she had begun rocking back and forth.
The pain in her stomach was increasing, but she didn't feel it. She felt empty.
Drained.
He wasn't coming home. He was never coming home.
An invisible band continued to tighten around her head, her ears thudded, echoing throbs that blocked all other sound including a wailing that took minutes to wrap her head around the realization that it was coming from her. She felt Luna's hands on her, grasping her by the shoulders tightly, and she tried to get away, but there was something else. Sharp pain cut across her stomach and the tingling had worked its way through her abdomen and down between her legs.
She heard herself scream.
Her hands unfisted in the pillow and she continued to rock, the motion making her slightly queasy.
The wireless announcer continued repeating his report, occasionally adding a new gruesome detail, speculating in how the Auror team had been killed; now assigning names randomly in a sensationalist way to a cause of death.
"Werewolves seem to have torn apart their own…Weasley…Dunstan…amputee Anthony Goldstein…particular delight in Neville Longbottom's wife…"
Megan screamed again and threw off Luna's hold. She grabbed the wand from behind her friend's ear and blasted the wireless off the mantle.
There was no satisfaction as the glowing embers flew through the air, landing on the small hearth rug. She stared at the smoldering remains and for a moment, there was silence in the room.
Megan opened her hand slowly, releasing the pillowcase. Her palm had bloody marks from where her fingernails had dug through the cotton case. She wiped the blood drops on the pillow and reached for Zacharias' side of the bed, twisting herself and curling into a ball until she was entirely on his side, her body wrapped around his pillow.
And then she cried, hysterical bursts where she couldn't catch her breath, interspersed with moments of nothing.
She was drenched. Her entire body, from head to knee, just completely wet and soggy and pained, but none more pained than her heart.
She didn't move, apart from the convulsing of her body as she sobbed, stopping and starting, usually without warning.
She was empty. Finally.
She lay there on her side, ignoring the intensifying pain radiating from back to stomach, stomach to cervix. Her eyes opened and closed and when opened, she started at the door, wondering how she would tell the boys that their father would never come home. Would they have a body to bury? Or was everything lost in the ash that was encompassing Ireland in its growing dark?
She refused to believe that he was one of those paraded. She could accept his death, but he was not mutilated. Not desecrated. Harry was a symbol. Her husband was – nothing was the wrong word, but the monster in Ireland wouldn't have cared about Zacharias. He wouldn't have recognized his lineage. Perhaps, his death was quick. Perhaps, he did not share in the torture of the others. Perhaps, he was alive, hoping, visualizing him walking through the door she still stared at.
She hadn't been noticing the increase in the contractions; the pain of childbirth that had faded with the memory of Wayne's hadn't come back. She ignored it in favor of this pain that moved from indefinable to physical.
She ignored it, and so when the sharp pain shot through her body, it shook her whole body to a shuddering until she had no choice but to push.
She knew she shouldn't, but her body had taken over and she was too weak to stop nature. If she wasn't going to have this baby, her body was.
"Aaaaaaahhh!" She screamed Luna's name, and her friend was beside her in seconds, wiping her own tears away.
She didn't move Megan. She reached between her legs and her voice expressed the smile she was giving Megan. "You have to let me in to check."
Megan chuckled and gave Luna the room she needed. She went to stick her fingers in and the look of surprise on her face worried Megan.
"What's wrong, Luna? Is the baby all right?"
"She's here, Megan."
"What do you mean, here, Luna?"
"I can feel her head. I don't think it will take more than a couple of pushes for her to be here; out here," she said as she pointed to the bed.
Megan looked towards the door and then back to Luna. "Do you think the boys can hear?"
Luna shook her head. "Muffliato."
She smiled and waved her wand and the bed coverings were dry again. She did the same thing to Megan's dressing gown. She helped Megan sit up, and propped the pillows behind her again.
Megan squeezed her eyes shut and they waited, but it didn't take long for the baby to decide that the time was now. The contraction came swiftly and Megan panted like a crup on a hot summer day, and then the contraction passed and she pushed.
"Oh, Megan, she's got a nose."
"Well, that's good to know."
"Keep it up. Breathe in, Megan and hold it. One…two…three…four…five. Now let it out, and push at the same time."
Megan felt the little baby being twisted and turned and pulled.
"Halfway, Megan. You're doing wonderfully."
Sweat was dripping down her face and along her neck. She held her hands on the edge of the bed, supporting herself and she pushed again.
"There we go, Megan. She's out. And she's just beautiful. Give us a moment, and you'll hear her."
"I want to hold her Luna. Is she all right? Why isn't she crying? The boys were practically crying before they came out. Is she –"
"Eh. Waaaaah!"
Megan slumped back against the pillows, the relief she felt fully relaxing her body. The baby continued to cry, and Megan saw Luna's wand moving about the baby, cleaning her, drying her and getting her ready.
She turned and Megan could see the top of the baby's head – blonde curls peeking out from the matching yellow blanket. Megan's breath hitched in her throat. Just like Daddy's hair.
Megan's dressing gown still hung open, but she didn't worry about her manner of dress as she reached for the baby, carefully taking her from Luna's arms. She cupped her head with both hands and balanced her daughter on her forearms, bringing her close, letting their faces meet.
Her face was tiny, eyes closed, nose scrunched up and Megan rubbed her own nose across the teeny one, blowing on her cheek. Pin pricks of gooseflesh rose and the baby answered her with a yawn. Megan rubbed their cheeks together and kissed her little ear. She leaned back and brought the baby with her, lying across her chest, shivering where their skin made contact.
Megan took a deep breath. The baby smelled clean; powdery and while her hair was dry, it was matted down leaving wispy curls around her forehead and ears. She was beautiful.
And perfect.
"Happy birthday, baby," Megan murmured into the soft downy hair. The baby lay across Megan and both mother and daughter were very still, their breathing matched breath for breath, their eyes closed. Megan took inventory by touch, counting ears and nose, ten fingers and ten toes. She ran a finger along the outline of one mouth and felt for the elbows and knees that had caused her so much consternation for the last nine months. It was hard to believe that there was only two of each. She kissed the top of her daughter's head and continued to do that every now and then until the contractions started again.
"Why don't you try to nurse her? That will help get it out."
Megan nodded and tickled the baby's cheek, adjusting her like a quaffle under her arm and putting the baby's mouth on the nearest nipple.
She looked up at Luna and rolled her eyes. "I guess she's not hungry."
Luna checked under the sheet again, and looked at Megan with something of a maternal face, shrugging and patting Megan's knee. "You'll have to push soon, and it will be easier if the baby's nursing when you do."
"I can't force her to eat, Luna!"
"I didn't say force her, Megan. You just want to make her think that eating's her idea." Luna was really good at not losing her temper, but there was a bit of edge to her voice in that last statement. It had been a long day. A long week. Megan glanced down at the little one in her arms. Eating should be the easiest thing that there was to do. It was natural. Wasn't it natural? The boys did well. Why won't this dear one cooperate? The boys were so easy when they were born. Or was that the faded memory of Neville's colicky nights or Wayne's croup?
She stared endlessly at the tiny face, seeing Zacharias in all of her features. The color of her hair was nearly exactly Zach's and the puffiness around her eyes reminded Megan of Zach's days in the Academy. Megan ran a finger tenderly along her face, tracing from the corner of her eye to her chin. The candlelight reflected off of her wedding band and it caught her eye. She began to weep, trying with no luck to control herself. They were supposed to renew their wedding vows in a few weeks. They'd had a horrible first wedding, and that was all her fault. She hadn't been speaking to Zacharias then and she went out of her way to be unpleasant to him. Of course, they had formed a good marriage, but when he suggested the second wedding, she thought it would be a brilliant way to make it up to him. She had hidden her dress in the closet. He made sure that the garden was ready, wanting the daylilies to be high when they repeated their vows.
She buried her face in the baby's head and her whole body shook in sorrow. How would she get through this day? Or the rest of her life?
The motion must have startled the baby. She began to stretch and squirm, batting Megan in the face with her fist. She wasn't crying, but she was becoming agitated and starting to fuss. There was a squawk that morphed into a yawn, sleeping again for a moment before fussing for a second time. She slipped off to sleep again, but then there was a shriek and a cry yet again as her fists flailed. Her head was turned towards Megan's body, but Megan wasn't moving; simply staring into her daughter's face and crying along with the baby.
Luna climbed up into the bed, crawling on her knees to settle in behind Megan. She gave her friend a long hug, and then opened up her dressing gown, revealing both breasts. She took hold of one of Megan's breasts and squeezed the nipple until some cloudy liquid streamed out. Luna gave Megan a tiny push with her own body, moving the breast closer to the baby.
The baby seemed to know it was there, either by smell or some splattered close enough to taste, but she immediately lurched until her mouth was secure around the nipple. Megan's tears petered off as she felt the sensation of the baby suckling her breast. Luna squeezed once or twice more to make sure that the baby was getting enough milk before she inevitably fell asleep there.
Megan settled the baby against her and Luna slid a folded up pillow under Megan's arm to support her and the baby. Megan smiled when she realized that it was Zach's pillow. It was almost as though he were there with his daughter helping her to feed for the first time.
Luna began to shake against her back. "Are you all right, Luna?" Megan tilted her head back and Luna nodded and then shook her head.
"They're all dead, aren't they?" she asked and Megan nodded. Luna began to cry in earnest and Megan along with her. Megan pulled the baby closer to her, and reached her free hand over her shoulder to pat the top of Luna's head. She didn't say anything in response, and Luna didn't speak again while they sat there, hearing only the sounds of their occasional sob and the baby's sucking noises.
Megan grimaced as a contraction came and went. After the third, Luna began to move away from Megan's back, but before she did, she pushed down on her stomach, kneading a bit, then climbed off the bed and stepped around to face Megan again.
"Is she eating?"
Megan nodded, not looking up at Luna, stroking the baby's cheek, causing her to suck faster.
"Okay, Meg, the next contraction, I want you to push, okay."
Megan glanced out of the window, and could see the sun sinking lower in the sky. She nodded once more. She was beginning to become weary and really wanted it to be over.
It didn't take long, and Luna's soothing tone helped Megan get through this part of the birth. The baby yawned, releasing her death grip on Megan, the nipple coming free with a sloppy pop.
"Are you all right, Luna?"
"No, but for every death there is life," she said, looking at the new baby.
"She'll never know her father." Megan began to cry again, but Luna interrupted her.
"No, Megan. You're wrong. She'll never meet her father, but she'll know him. She'll know him."
Luna used her wand to finish cleaning up; one spell for the blood, another for the sheets, an Evanesco here, a Tergeo there, and it was done.
She rubbed Megan's head soothingly. "Rest."
Megan agreed. She awkwardly twisted and turned her body to get into a position that her aching body would find comfortable for this first night. She settled the baby into the space next to her and Luna placed a pillow on the baby's other side. Megan pressed a delicate kiss to her forehead, and rubbed a finger across her cheek. "Good night, love." She did wonder silently if she were speaking to the baby or hoping that Zacharias would hear her thoughts. She would not settle into sleep easily.
The sun felt warm on her face. Megan didn't want to move; as content as she was. She snuggled against Zacharias' body, bringing her leg over his and getting as close to him as she could. His arm tightened around her shoulders. She loved the smell of the grass beneath them. She lifted her head and looked at him for only a moment before she blew across his Adam's apple. He smiled, but his eyes remained closed and he remained still save for his fingers ghosting over the edge of her shirt where it met the back of her neck. She laughed and blew again.
He turned his head and pulled her into a deeper embrace, tilting his head to kiss hers. He slid his body out and turned her, the suddenness of it startling her, but she could only laugh when he straddled her waist. He bent over her face and kissed her deeply, but finishing so quickly that she groaned in disappointment when he pulled his mouth free from hers, her head following the distance, wanting it to go on.
He remained sitting atop her, grinning, tugging his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side. He slipped one arm under her back and lifted her off the ground to meet him halfway.
He kissed her again, this time just as deeply, but slow and deliberate; one she would remember well. His tongue played against hers and she felt him smile against her mouth when her hands touched his chest, slowly caressing his shoulders and moving down with a purpose until she reached the band of his trousers.
Zacharias leaned forward, sprinkling Megan's face with kisses. He slowly worked his way along her neck and kissed each new exposed place as he unbuttoned her shirt. She closed her eyes, tilting her head back, letting the sunlight wash over her face.
When Megan woke up, it wasn't the startling that the last time was. She still felt the contentment of that spring day in the garden, but the more she stirred, the desire to see Zacharias, the sting, not the jolt that her bed holding someone else should have given her. Her bed was, in fact, crowded. The new baby burrowed against her breasts, her blond hair, curly and matted, smelling of sweat and milk and baby. Neville's hand was in hers as the rest of his arm curled around his brother's and Wayne's feet were pressed against Megan's belly, slightly smaller now that the baby had come earlier in the evening. She felt Luna's hand on her back as she slept in the chair beside them, sharing it with Rolf. It might have been cozy if not for the one person missing.
She stared at little Neville and squeezed his hand in hers. He was so much like his father. She looked at each of their children in turn.
"…a houseful of kids. One by one, Meggie, I want to fill this house with laughter and beautiful children who look like you."
That would never be.
Megan didn't want to move and her lower body ached from the beating this little one gave her on the way out. It was a dull ache, and she knew that some of that was from her recent dream as well; the longing for a husband who would never return home. Her eyes filled with tears. Luna stirred behind her, pushing a knuckle into her back. Megan started, but after a moment, the ache was replaced with relief. How did Luna always manage to do that? Always know what was needed? She held it together and knew just what to do; to make things better. She'd lost all her friends as well and she still managed to hold it together for Megan and the boys, and then to deliver this baby. Megan smiled into her daughter's hair. Her daughter.
Luna squeezed Megan's shoulder.
"Are you all right for a bit?"
Megan nodded. Luna tugged on Rolf's hand, extricating him from his awkward position, and led him from the bedroom. Megan barely moved as the baby moved, both of them working intuitively to move breast to mouth with only a tiny squeak to show for their momentary lack of coordination. And who could blame them after the day they'd had?
Megan stroked her cheek with one finger and watched her suckle. She glanced over at the boys and smiled in surprise as her eyes met Neville's staring ones. She reached her finger to stoke his cheek and he smiled.
"Mummy," he whispered. "What's her name?"
"Morag," she said without hesitation.
He smiled and closed his eyes.
Megan looked up at Zacharias' face shyly. He had that look on his face that she noticed when he was studying. She liked it, but she wasn't sure what it meant just at the moment. The evening was almost over. Almost everyone had returned to their common rooms after the Yule Ball, but theirs was mostly empty. A few girls remained huddled in the corner, giggling, but when she glanced over, she saw that no one was noticing her and Zacharias.
He stepped closer and she almost stepped back from him. He was so tall and the curly parts of his hair fell into his face. He was so handsome. She knew that people thought his nose made him look self-aggrandizing, but she liked it. He shook his head and she watched the hair bounce out of his eyes. He really needed a haircut.
She blinked and suppressed a shiver as his finger touched her cheek, pressing lightly and following an imaginary line to her chin, lifting her face to his.
His lips were red, redder than normal from the dragonberry punch they shared at the Ball. He leaned down and when he closed his eyes, she knew she should close hers, but she couldn't. She wanted to watch him. She lost her smile when his lips touched hers, putting more pressure on them as his body pressed against hers too.
She put her hands on his face and then in his hair, and she kissed him back as new feelings sprang up between them. You know, she thought as their kiss ended and her fingers tugged on his curls, he didn't really need a haircut.
Luna set the parchment on the low table. "Your mum is at the Ministry. They've apparently called in all of the remaining Aurors. I think she said that your Dad is minding the owls and the main Floo."
Megan nodded. She wasn't really listening, watching Morag sleep. She caressed her daughter's cheek. Wayne was curled up on the floor and Neville was –
"Megan," Luna interrupted her thoughts gently. "Zach's parents will be by this afternoon. His mother is very upset, but I think they had planned on staying with you for a few days. Will you be all right?"
Megan nodded as they exchanged a knowing look. "They mean well." She looked past Luna to see Neville. There was something in his hand. He looked worried as he came closer, handing her the just delivered copy of The Daily Prophet. Megan swallowed, afraid to look after last night's WWN reports, but at least Neville couldn't quite read. The newspaper was missing its usual tie and she unrolled it to look. There were photographs of Harry, Ron and Hermione with a small inset of Neville and Seamus. The headline blared, "Lost." She rolled it up tight and tossed it on the table, trying to make light of it while inside she was beginning to crumble. Her eyes filled with tears, which she blinked back, but Neville had seen this often since yesterday.
"Mummy."
"Yes, Neville," she answered softly, meeting his eyes and taking his hand. She didn't let him continue, interrupting him before he could form the words. "Aren't you even a little bit tired? Even your new sister is sleeping."
He shook his head with a bright smile. "No, Mummy. I'm not tired. Can I have a snack?"
"Of course."
She laid Morag on her back in the back part of the sofa, putting one of the cushions on the floor beneath her. She touched her daughter's head and then rubbed Wayne's soft hair as he continued to sleep before following Neville into the kitchen.
Neville climbed up onto the stool and leaned his elbows on the work top. Megan rinsed a small bowl of strawberries off and poured them onto a tea towel and handed Neville the paring knife, watching as he sliced them into fours and tossed them back into the bowl.
Megan entered the kitchen, but stopped when she saw the scene before her. Neville was sitting on the work top; Zacharias was standing in front of him; their faces close together. They were speaking quietly.
"When will you be home, Daddy?"
"Just a few days. Uncle Neville won't need me for longer than that."
"Before the new baby comes?"
"Of course before the baby comes!" Zach pushed Neville's nose and ruffled his hair. "You know, Neville, while I'm away, you'll be the man of the house. You'll be in charge." He smiled at his son, and Neville grinned.
"Really?"
"Of course. You're the oldest."
"In charge of Mummy?"
"Well, no. No one's in charge of your Mummy. Not even me. You'll be Mummy's special helper while I'm gone."
He lifted him off the counter, hugging him tightly, kissing his cheek sloppily. He set him on his feet and shooed him out the back door.
As soon as it closed, he turned, pulling Megan into his arms. Her arms were tight around him. She felt dread in the pit of her stomach. It was always this way before he went on a particularly dangerous mission, but those had been less frequent these days with most of the old Death Eaters quiet. Except for this Irish bastard. She took a deep breath. His mouth brushed against Megan's forehead.
"Did you mean that Zacharias?"
"Mean what," he whispered.
"When you told Neville that you'll be back before the baby's born. Did you mean that?"
He nodded. "Yes. I will be back before this baby is born. If I don't die first." He kissed her deeply, not giving her a chance to respond to his irreverence, and then bent to kiss the top of her stomach, rubbing his cheek on the moving baby.
"When's Daddy coming home, Mummy?"
Their eyes met and Megan reached out to touch his hand, but he pulled it away to pop another strawberry slice into his mouth. They both looked towards the back door as it opened, both of their faces expectant.
"Grandma!" Neville jumped from the stool and ran across the room and into his grandmother's outstretched arms. She appeared as though she'd been hit by a broomstick, his resemblance to her son striking, but she recovered quickly reacting to him with a broad smile. She took him into her arms and hugged him until he was struggling and asking to be loose.
"Where's your brother?"
"Napping. Do you want to see the baby?! Her name's Morag, and she's sleeping too." He grabbed his grandmother's hand, and dragged her from the kitchen, not giving her even a moment to remove her overcoat.
Megan twisted her wedding band and watched the door between the rooms swing back and forth, slowing until finally stopping. Only then did she feel the hand on her elbow, the hoarse whisper, hesitant, unfamiliar in a man usually so filled with certainty. "Have you told them yet?"
She shook her head, not able to speak the words, and as her head shook again, she collapsed against her father-in-law, sobbing. His arms went around her stiffly, so strange that her husband was so warm and his father the opposite. She sometimes wondered how they were of the same family, but now as Charles Smith consoled her with soothing words and a soft tone, she knew where Zach had gotten it from.
It took Megan a few moments to compose herself. She stepped out of her father-in-law's embrace, brusquely wiping the tears from her face, giving him a weak smile. She took his hand and led him into the sitting room to see the children.
Mrs. Smith was sitting on the sofa, her hands patting the blanket covering kicking baby legs. The sad look on her face was hard for Megan to reconcile with a new baby so close at hand, and Neville certainly didn't notice the strange manner that all the adults were handling themselves in.
Wayne was still asleep nearby and Neville turned as she and Zach's father entered the room. Neville smiled widely at the both of them.
"I can't wait for Daddy to see her!" Neville was so excited as he looked back to his baby sister and then returned his gaze to his mother and grandparents. "When's he coming home? Did you Floo him? Does he already know about her?"
"There's still time for Daddy to hear the news," Mrs. Smith said quietly, fighting back tears as she gripped the baby's foot. The baby began to stir.
"Maureen." Mr. Smith's voice was firm, though not as strong as usual, and Megan saw him shake his head slightly at his wife.
"We don't need to do this now." Her voice was pleading and unsteady and she turned away from her husband, seeming to know that she had lost, and not wanting to upset anyone else. Megan wondered if perhaps she thought that by looking away, she wouldn't hear the words that everyone except Neville knew were coming. Megan wanted to hide herself; to turn her head away from this moment, and the next one, and the next, but she knew that the longer they didn't tell Neville, the harder it would be on him.
Megan stepped forward, but clung to her father-in-law's hand desperately, searching her mind for the right words to tell her son that his father was never coming home. Could there possibly be right words? An uncomfortable silence suspended over the room, all eyes staring at either the baby's foot or the back of Neville's head, until finally Megan spoke up very softly with a slight motion of her head.
"Daddy's not coming home, Neville."
The words hung in the air for a moment and no one moved except a small flailing foot. Neville didn't turn around, and continued to stroke his sister's curls with one hand, while his other hand held hers. When he spoke, he spoke without hesitation. "Yes, he is, Mum. He promised."
Megan could feel her heart beating faster. Or was it breaking? "Neville, Daddy died in Ireland."
"No, Mum. He said he'd be home, and he'll be home. He wouldn't lie to me."
Megan's next words caught in her throat and she had begun to falter even before Zacharias' mum began to cry quietly. Neville spared her a glance, but returned to doting on his sister, combing her tiny hairs with his fingers, cooing softly in her face.
Megan released Charles' hand and kneeled behind Neville, touching him on his back, trying to turn his body to face her. He resisted, so she put her arms around his waist and leaned her cheek against his shoulder.
"Neville, listen to Mummy, love. Please." When he finally turned his head somewhat, he did so grudgingly, and she continued, "Neville, there was a bad man, and Daddy went to help Uncle Neville….to save the world. Like the stories he's told you about Voldemort. The bad man won this time. Daddy's not coming home."
Neville remained silent, turning back to his sister as her wails broke the quiet of the room. He still held her hand and Megan wondered if he'd squeezed her hand a bit too hard. She reached to comfort her daughter, lifting her off the sofa and bringing her close, kissing her nose.
Neville moved out of the way, and Megan took up the space that Morag had been tucked into, carefully undoing her top, and sticking the baby's head in. Morag's cries stopped when she began to nurse, and now that she was settled, she returned her attention back to Neville. He was staring at his sister's feet. Her body half in Mummy's shirt must have looked strange to him and Megan realized that he would have been too young to remember watching Wayne nurse.
Megan tugged her oldest son's arm, and lifted him one-handed onto her lap, taking care that he not sit on Morag. The sat silently, just the three of them curled up on the sofa, the only sound Morag's sucking. Occasionally, she would kick Neville and he would giggle and that was the one thing that made Megan smile today.
By the end of this first day, they were all exhausted. Except for Morag, of course. Zacharias' mother informed her that they would stay through the next weekend. They prepared the guest room together and settled Wayne into his bed early. Neville spent the entirety of the day sitting in front of the fireplace. He told Grandpa that Daddy said he'd be home and so he would wait until he was home. That was where he fell asleep. Zach's father tried to carry Neville to bed, but halfway up the stairs, Neville woke up, wriggling his way out of Grandpa's arms, and running past Megan to sit in front of the fireplace again. They tried to bring him to bed one more time, but after his hysterical crying, and nearly pushing Zach's mum down the stairs, they decided to let him sleep there in front of the fireplace.
Mrs. Smith wasn't very domestic, but she knew just what to do, and she was a force once she got going. Maureen Smith was the exact opposite of what Megan had experienced with Luna, but she was such a help, creating a safe place for the boys and taking care of things so that Megan and Morag could rest and recover from the birth. She was not used to juggling three little ones at once, but she soon got the hang of it, and they both knew that this week would be all right up until the time they had to make the arrangements. That would be tomorrow.
When Megan finally climbed into bed, her body ached all over. She looked at Zacharias' side, but eventually turned her back on the empty space, not able to bear staring at it any longer. She spent the night in fits of restless sleep, tossing and turning, silently crying into her pillow. Morag woke her several times to nurse and Megan tried her best not to take her bad mood and lack of sleep out on her new daughter. She placed her gently in her cradle and watched her in the moonlight for a few moments. Mostly, the new baby was quiet other than when she was woken by hunger, but Megan also knew that the giant slept. Morag was on her best behavior for her grandparents, but she was also still tired from being born. That would change. It would take at least a week for her to find her way in this new place, and by then Megan would be alone with the little ones. She needed to find a way to get through this alone. Her eyes were wet when she closed them at last.
Megan had just drifted off to sleep when she was awakened by the front door closing. She smiled to herself. Zacharias always tried to come in quietly, but never succeeded. He was too wound up from working at night, and she lay still, her eyes remaining closed, listening to the sounds of the house as it answered her husband's movements.
The kitchen door scraped the bottom of the door frame when he went in and then when he went out again. The bottom stair creaked and the banister rattled. It was remarkable how many odd sounds a new house made in the dark.
The door to the boys' room opened and Megan waited for Wayne to cry out. Zacharias almost always disturbed his sleep, but he refused to come to bed without seeing his boys, especially when he missed the opportunity of putting them to bed on these late nights. The door closed without incident and Megan was relieved. She didn't want to share her bed with more than one more. Perhaps, all that sunlight and playtime in the garden really did tire him out this time.
Finally, Zacharias' nightly ritual was over, and their bedroom door opened and closed quietly. He very noiselessly took off his clothes and tossed them on the floor on his side. Finally, his side of the bed depressed and shifted as he lay down and changed positions. He sighed and adjusted his pillow. He bounced himself into place, knocking the headboard against the wall. He stopped moving and Megan knew he was listening for Wayne –he could be so sensitive. Zacharias coughed and smoothed his hands over the sheet, brushing his fingers along her hand at last.
He shimmied closer. "Are you awake?" he whispered into the bareness of her shoulder. His warm breath tingled on her cool skin and while she tried not to, she couldn't help but let a small smile slip. He went to kiss her, but paused and he smiled himself, his teeth grazing her arm.
One hand began to move across her waist as he threaded the other beneath her and pulled her closer until she was in his arms. His head nudged aside her nightclothes and rubbed his nose, tracing along her breasts, alternating with kisses. His breath was warmer now, and he repeated his question, but only after taking a nipple between his teeth. "Are you awake?"
"I am now," she answered lazily, a tiny giggle escaping. The warmth of him gripped her senses. Her skin tingled wherever his mouth came in contact and she felt the heat rise in her as her desire for him became more apparent to the both of them.
"You were already awake," he teased, nibbling her gently and taking mouthfuls of her. She knew he was trying to leave his mark. Tomorrow, when she traveled to Diagon Alley for her errands with the boys, she'd think about tonight and blush.
Megan laughed at the thought, molding herself into his body. "I may have been. Just a little bit."
She brought her hands up to touch his face and tilt his head up, beginning to meet him halfway. He didn't wait for her, though, didn't wait for her to bring her head to his. He lunged at her, taking her mouth with his. She couldn't help but moan when his tongue pushed its way inside her mouth, and then again when he pressed her forcefully down on her back. A shudder reverberated through her body and she wanted him desperately. He seemed to want the same thing as he tore frantically at the bed linens covering her, never letting his lips leave her. They came together in a thrashing and flailing of limbs and gasps and desperate kisses. Her breaths sped up and intensified and she squeezed her eyes shut as her body spasmed. Zacharias held her down, keeping her still while she shuddered and shivered under him.
They were both still now, and as she found a comfortable spot with his arms around her, she smiled when sleep soon found him, his snoring light and musical in her ears. She liked to go to sleep this way, the smell of sweat and sex filling her as she relaxed into her husband's body. She could sleep like this every day. She looked forward to tomorrow and waking up in his arms; in this same position.
Megan looked into Zacharias' face, shadowed in the moonlight, and she saw all that he was and all that he would be, and as she snuggled into his arms, she felt warm and safe and she slept.
Megan was warm. It was early and the house was quiet. There was contentment as she stretched and rolled towards Zacharias. She reached for him, eager to repeat the events of her recent memory, and when she couldn't find him, she opened her eyes.
The smile left her lips. The bed was empty. She was used to waking up to find Zacharias already gone to work, but this was something else.
She remembered.
She reached a hand out, but stopped, not wanting to feel the emptiness on the other side of the bed. When she finally did, she smoothed her hand across the cool sheets.
Megan pulled Zacharias' pillow to her and buried her face in it. His smell still lingered and she breathed deeply. Morag began to cry and Megan began to tremble.
"I can't do this without you, Zacharias. I can't." She began to weep and tightened her arms around his pillow. "I just can't." She closed her eyes and wished for this moment to go away.
When she opened them again, the bed was still empty and the baby was still crying.