A/N: This story was written as a possible entry for The Houses Competition, Year 3, Round 10. I didn't submit this one as another was chosen, but since it was written, may as well share it. It isn't too polished and I may come back to tweak certain things within it (please bear in mind it was written within certain word limits and with particular prompts), but I hope you enjoy this take nonetheless :)
This is AU in that Theodore Nott didn't have a brother, and he witnessed his mother's death in canon.
Warning: Contains mentions of miscarriage.
The Whole Truth
The Healers told him they could save either his wife or his child.
Belanus Nott stared at the Healer in front of him, sure he'd heard wrong. His wife had been perfectly fine, albeit slightly pale as she squeezed his hand, when she'd been wheeled through the double doors behind him. He'd gotten her to St Mungo's when her very first contraction had started, leaving the staff plenty of time to do their thing and deliver a healthy baby. When the Healer had come out of the room, he'd assumed the man had come to tell him that the child was already born and whether it was the boy he'd wanted or the girl Rosalie had hoped for.
What he hadn't expected was for the Healer to ask which one they should save.
His head began to pound, not helped by the toddler tugging on his hand. "Not now, Theodore," Belanus hissed to his son, before turning steely eyes back on the Healer. "What do you mean you can only save one? This is no time to joke!"
The shorter man fiddled with the lime-green mask in his hands, his grey eyes full of sympathy. It only served to make Belanus angrier, and it took all his strength not to take his wand out and curse him.
"I'm sorry, Mr Nott, but this isn't a joke. The truth of the matter is that your wife isn't coping with the labour. If she persists, we may be able to save the baby, but we don't think she'll survive herself. The only way is to stop—"
"How? How is this possible? Go in there and get some better assistants to help. They're clearly not doing their jobs!"
"Mr Nott, please…"
The room was beginning to spin, and he looked around for somewhere to sit. He was sure this wouldn't have happened if he'd taken Rosalie somewhere more private. Healer Dempsey had delivered young Theodore without any problems; perhaps if he'd insisted the elderly man came out of retirement, he wouldn't have to deal with the incompetence of these other Healers.
His son had other ideas, though, and the three-year-old continued tugging his hand, trying to lead him towards the double doors. "I want to see Mummy!"
"Not now, Theo."
The brunet burst into tears, causing passers-by to turn and glare at him. Belanus returned their looks, daring them to say something. His attention was turned back to the Healer, however, as the doors behind him burst open and a Medi-witch whispered something in the man's ears.
"Mr Nott, please… as her husband, this is your choice. Do we look after Mrs Nott, or will the baby be our priority?"
"Save both."
"Mr Nott…"
The room was still spinning, his head was still pounding, and Theodore was still wailing. His heart squeezed as he tried to place this all into reality, to comprehend that it wasn't all just a dream.
They'd planned for months for their baby—months. At first, he hadn't been too fussed. He already had an heir, and the boy was a handful enough. But he hadn't been able to say no to Rosalie's rosy smile or the sparkle in her green eyes, and soon he'd found himself helping her paint the room, choose potential names, and even order tiny robes. He knew he'd wanted the baby just as much as Rosalie—or perhaps more—when he found himself looking forward to feeling the baby's little kicks against her stomach. The possibility that something would go wrong simply did not exist.
"They need you in there, Healer Strout…" the Medi-witch said.
Belanus met the Healer's pale blue eyes, hoping that somehow, the man was lying. When only sympathy was behind them, his heart squeezed again, and he knew he was telling the truth.
"Save Rosalie," he said, turning away.
"Very well."
He dragged his wriggling son over to a set of plastic chairs, not looking back as the Healer returned to the delivery room. He didn't want the man to see the doubt in his eyes, or the tears that were now stinging them. He pulled a struggling Theodore onto his lap—a reminder that he already had a child, but he'd never find another Rosalie.
He wasn't sure how long it took after that, but by the time the Healer returned through the doors, Theodore had calmed down and his tears had dried.
He stood up as the Healer took off his mask and cap. "It was a boy," the Healer said, his balding head down.
Belanus nodded, a lump forming in his throat. He wondered if Rosalie knew, but he supposed such a fact would be less painful for her.
He took a step forward, ready to help her heal. The Healer stuck out his hand, however, and shook his head. This time, Belanus saw that the man's eyes were watery, and the familiar prick of tears came back to his own eyes.
"I'm sorry, Mr Nott."
The Healers told him they could save either his wife or his son. They hadn't told the whole truth.