Prompt: Phalenopsis Orchid - believed to bring fertility and beauty. Write about a pregnant woman.

(Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, May Event: "Go, pick flowers!"

Word Count: 623


My Husband's Son

I am feeling so happy, yet I'm nervous. Madam Pomfrey's words from the morning are still ringing in my years.

"Oh my god, Nymphadora. You're—you're pregnant!"

The smile that played on my lips as she told me so, hasn't left. Neither has the anxiety.

What will he say? Will he be happy? Angry?

I do not know.

I Apparate in the alleyway near my mother's house, where we are staying for now. My father is on the run. I don't know if he's dead or alive, but I haven't lost hope yet.

I enter into the protective wards surrounding the house. Before I can trip over the stairs leading to the porch, a lean, but strong arm steadies me.

"I'm fine—I'm fine," I say, before he can speak anything. I gaze into his face—his eyes. The scars that cover his face only make his eyes look even more beautiful. I stand up on my toes and kiss him.

We go inside, arms linked together.

"Food is ready, Dora, Remus!" my mother calls from the kitchen.

As we eat, I sit up. "I have to tell something to both of you."

My mother and my husband look at me, a worried look on each of their faces. It disappears as I smile.

"I'm pregnant," I say softly. Remus stiffens up, but my mum has a wide smile on her face.

"That's amazing, Dora. Congratulations, Remus!" she says cheerfully. "I should start knitting soon. Okay, I'll leave you two alone now." She gets up and levitates the dirty dishes into the sink.

As she leaves, I look at my husband. His face is unreadable.

"Re—"

"I knew I shouldn't marry you," he says.

"What? Where does this come from?" I ask.

"Don't you understand? I'm an outcast. I made you an outcast too by marrying you. And now, the child—I don't know if the child will be a boy or a we—or like me!"

"Remus—" I try again.

"No. I'm destroying a child's life. He will be ashamed of calling me his father! I—I'll leave. You should marry someone else, and grow the child up with him, if it is a baby."

Before I could even understand what he said, he got up and stormed away.

"Remus!" I ran after him. "Remus!"

There was no response. A soft pop sounded as he Disapparated away, which broke the dam of tears. I slid down to the ground, crying.

.oOo.

The doorbell rang.

Before I could stand up, my mother got to the door.

A moment's silence, and then she screeched. "What do you think you are doing here? You leave my daughter alone in this condition, and then dare to come back?"

Remus is back. My husband is back.

I get up. Walking past my mother, I wrap my arms around his neck, and bury my face in his chest.

"Oh, Remus!" I sob, as he caresses my hair.

.oOo.

"Remus!" I yell from the bathroom. "I think my water broke!"

He comes running there, and picks me up. He takes me to the bedroom.

"Push," my mother says. The pain is unbearable, but I think of a little boy with Remus' eyes, and I get my strength back.

A shrill cry spreads across the room. My mother hands over my son—wrapped up in a bundle of clothes—to me. The little boy—our son—is sleeping. I lean forward and kiss the tuft of black hair that covers his forehead.

Remus enters, a wide smile spread on his face. "Brown hair!" he exclaims. I look down at my boy; his hair is indeed brown now.

I smile. "He's a metamorphagus," I whisper, as he leans in and kisses me.