Alright. Here you are.

Chapter Twenty-Five:
Away

She stood by the mirror of the bathroom, examining her naked body, brow furrowed in thought. Sirius hadn't replied to her last letter, and it had been nearly a month. Was he rejecting her, as her pessimistic side told her every night before bed? Or was he injured in the war, a thought even harder to cope with?

Her hands slid down over her belly-button, and her heart pounded a little harder. It was so hard to be away from him at a time like this. She couldn't feel his comforting touch. She couldn't hear his smooth voice telling her that everything was okay. She couldn't watch his eyes light up at the sight of her.

Sighing, she turned to the bath. It was small and modest, just like the rest of the house. But she didn't need big and fancy. All she needed was the warmth of the water. All she wanted was the warmth of something surrounding her.

As she slipped into the water, she imagined Sirius wrapping his arms around her. She remembered the heat of his core and the beating of his heart within it. If only he was there with her. They could talk in person, and she'd know immediately what he meant to do. She wouldn't have to deal with all this waiting. The sickness she felt constantly would leave her if only he was there. If only, if only...

She took in a breath and dunked herself under the water. The liquid swirled around her for a minute before the pounding noises of the water stopped. When they did cease, the silence was eerie. She opened her eyes, and her vision was blurred. She imagined the dark spot of leaky pipes on the ceiling to be Sirius, and she held her belly once more.

Distorted came the voice of her grandmother. "Elizabeth."

She closed her eyes again and felt the pressure on her lungs. Oma Ulli called again before Bitty finally heeded to her body's wishes and supplied herself with fresh oxygen.

She got out, dried herself slowly, and tied her robe around her waist. Then, grabbing a vile of the potion she'd mixed earlier from the pile of her clothes atop the radiator, she answered the beckon, pushing all thoughts of Sirius out of her head.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

He sat at the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, back hunched, hair falling in his face. A letter was clutched in his hands. He read it over and over again, but he could hardly believe the words on the page. He'd received the letter nearly a month ago, but no matter how many times his eyes scanned the words that the letters formed, he wasn't sure what they meant, or rather, what the contents meant for him...for Bitty.

November 24, 1977,

Dear Sirius,

You're last letter was adorable. I want you to know that I feel the same way: I miss you every minute of every day. But there's something I have to tell you, and I think I should just come out and say it right away. Sirius, I'm pregnant. It's early, I know, but I'm late, and I can just feel it.

I don't really know what to do; and I don't really know how to act; but I do know that you need to know. I just hope you'll still love me, because I'm really scared.

Oma is calling. I have to go.

All my love,

Bitty
XOXOXO

"'Pregnant.'" He read the word over and over. His eyes wandered further down the page. "'I just hope you'll still love me...'" he repeated.

Of course he still loved her. It was unreasonable to think he wouldn't. This just made things a little more complicated. It had been almost a month, and he still didn't know what he could do. He didn't know how to answer her letter. He didn't know how to feel. He didn't know how to be a father!--especially when his own father had never been around for him.

He looked up and saw on the dresser before him, a picture with Bitty's face smiling radiantly at him.

If he was apprehensive, how must she feel? She was the one who would actually bear the child, and he hadn't even had the decency to write her back yet.

He gritted his teeth and cursed himself, stamping up to his feet and striding her to his writing desk. It was finally time to send the message he'd been pondering over every minute--including meetings for the Order--ever since he'd gotten the letter. He wrote:

Dear Bitty,

But what would he say?