Lyra was experienced at hiding her true emotions. She had spent many years suppressing her true utter loneliness and replacing it with an outward expression of aloof disinterest, one she had adapted perfectly to be just the right mix for her uncle and aunt: not too much that she appeared rebellious, but not too little that her own disconsolateness, a sad expression on the face of a child, became apparent and prompted interest from others. Before she had gone to Hogwarts, Lyra had never had to suppress happiness. She had, after all, never had any to replace.

The afternoon that Hermione attacked Lyra, she had to call on a skill, though refined, was one she used less. She had to fool happiness. Neville's words of affectionate well wishes had cheered her up, but her soul was still tumultuously tearing itself apart, shielding itself with a thick, black, cloud. Lyra had only ever needed to pretend joy a few times before. Before her fifth year, while still shaken from the events of the previous year, she had had to pretend to her friends that she was unaffected. Ron and Hermione had demanded their friends presence, and although Lyra merely wanted to quietly retreat she did as she had always done, and obliged. Going against orders with the Dursleys meant punishment, so Lyra instead suffered through to get her reward of indifference. And doing so became a habit. One of many Charlie was trying to get her to break.

For the rest of the afternoon of the dreadful party, Lyra mingled, laughed, smiled, reflected joy. But Neville could still notice the pain in her eyes, that perhaps only hinted of the shock and sadness within. Ron noticed too, but he felt torn between his friend and his girlfriend, hovering within the Burrow's kitchen. Sirius, Remus and Tonks stood to one side, watching her sadly, and as for Charlie, he never left her side. But to those who didn't know her so well, she appeared to be utterly happy.

But as soon as the party started winding down, Charlie was the first to leave, his arm firmly around his wife's waist. Lyra held her head up high until they returned to their own home, where she sagged into Charlie's side. He hugged her once more, pouring all his love into the desperate kisses he pressed upon her face in an effort to draw her out of her slump.

But he hadn't realised quite the extent of the damage that Hermione's words had done until he heard Lyra's voice, muffled by his shoulder, say the words

"Do you think my parents didn't mean to have me so young?"

Her shattered tone tore at his heart and renewed anger bubbled inside him towards his wife's best friend. For now Lyra was not only questioning the decision that they as a couple had made - the best one they had ever made, but also her own existence.

Charlie couldn't answer her question, not properly and certainly not truthfully. His heart sank as he realised that for her to put her question to rest he would have to ask Sirius or Remus, and he didn't want either of them to realise the damage that had been done. Not when he knew that the only reason Lyra was so hurt was because it was Hermione who had attacked her. Had it been anyone else, it wouldn't have hurt her so much.

"I don't know, Ly" was his only answer, "I don't know, I'm sorry. But I do know that whether they meant to have you or not, they loved you. They always loved you. They went into hiding to protect you because they loved you. And in every single one of the photos you have seen of your mum and dad, have you ever seen any where they have been looking at you with anything less than absolute adoration in their eyes? They looked at you the same way you look at Teddy. They walked with you to Voldemort, you told me that. They loved you 20 years ago, and they love you now. Whether they planned to have you or not, they definitely loved having you."

Finally Lyra's eyes met his, and although they were shining with tears, there was finally a spark of life, and Charlie almost sagged with relief.

"Mistress Ly?" The small, reedy voice of their beloved house elf Kreacher came from behind them. The twisted character of a mere six years before had changed drastically from the days when Lyra and her godfather were imprisoned in the house in Grimmauld Place. Now he was a friendly elf, one who was desperately loyal to Lyra, and he spoke only out of concern, which infused his voice.

"Hello, Kreacher" Lyra answered. Her voice trembled, but she was able to meet his eyes before the wizened elf turned to her husband. Charlie could only shake his head subtly, but Kreacher picked up on the hint and turned back to Lyra, the curiosity in his gaze coupled with worry. She was very pale, and as well as worried for her, both Charlie and his house elf were concerned for the babies she carried.

"Ly, let's get you to bed" Charlie said eventually, before half escorting, half carrying, Lyra to their bedroom at the top of their tower. She had refused to eat dinner and although she was returning his gentle touches, she was not as lively as usual and Charlie ended up staying awake all night, watching over her anxiously.