A/N:

Due to a glitch (I assume) Chapter One replaced Chapter 35 for several hours for some reason. So if you missed Chapter 35, go back and read that first. Thanks so much to suziequzie for bringing it to my attention! How weird!

-AL

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

PART THREE: END OF WEEK TEN

"The baby is yours."

Hestia Jones massaged her heavily pregnant belly as she spoke. She was sitting opposite Kingsley in his office at the Ministry. She'd dropped in unexpectedly, much to his annoyance. It was Tuesday and he was in no mood to spend his lunch break having a chat with his former girlfriend about the possible permanent reminder of their summer indiscretion.

"You can't know that for certain," he said calmly, his hands folded on his desk, addressing her as if she were any other visitor, any other employee.

"I spent last week in Paris, at the St. Theresa Center for Women and Infants. They are the best Healers, midwives, and nurses in the wizarding world when it comes to obstetrics, infertility, and other women's issues." She tried to smile, but it was shaky and forced. "They pinpointed my conception date more acutely than St. Mungo's was able to and said it had to have been when we-"

"When the baby is born, look it over carefully, then send a Patronus to tell me whether it's half-black or half-Chinese. Until then, I have no interest in discussing-"

"How can you be so cold, Kingsley?" Her voice trembled, her nose twitched. Her fake smile was gone; she was on the verge of tears. "You loved me once, didn't you? How could you hurt someone you once lov-"

"It is not my intention to hurt you."

"I fully understand that you don't want to be with me, but this baby-"

"Is a mistake."

"No!" She slammed her hand down on the arm of the chair. "I'll not have you calling my baby a mistake. No child is a mistake. Unplanned, yes. Unwise, probably. But not a mistake."

"I'm sorry." He genuinely was. For a myriad of reasons. "You're right, I should not have said that. But being with you over the summer, that was a mistake."

"We should have used protection."

"We should have slept in separate rooms. We should not have slept together. We…" He pressed his first two fingertips to his temples. "It was wrong."

She sniffled, nodding. "But, Kingsley? I still love you."

He took a deep, slow breath, keeping himself calm. She still loved him. But of course she did.

"Kingsley? Did you hear me? I still love-"

"I know."

"And you love her?"

"Yes."

"But you've only been with her a short time, haven't you?" she asked hopefully, as if that mattered. "Two years?"

"Nearly three. Three in February."

"Three." Hestia fiddled with the silver chain of the necklace her mother bought her for Christmas her first year of Hogwarts; it had the Ravenclaw crest on a dangling pendant. "You and I were-"

"But I've been in love with her for longer."

"Longer?"

"Hestia, I don't want to hurt you, but… you've heard the saying about being cruel to be kind?"

She nodded.

"The truth is, I met Andromeda for the first time around 1991, when Nymphadora Tonks was entering the Auror program, and I was attracted to her then. I saw her again in 1993 and felt the same. And again in 1996. And 1997. I was never not attracted to her. But she was married."

"You found her attractive, fine!" Hestia laughed nervously. "What does that matter? Men find a lot of women attract-"

"I fantasized about her on numerous occasions when you and I were still together. Doesn't that mean anything to you? That night I called you by her name, it was not the first time my mind was elsewhere when we were being intimate."

Hestia squeezed her eyes shut. A tear eeked out. Cruel, indeed.

"I did love you, I genuinely did, but the way I feel about her is different. I've never…" He took another deep breath and tried again. "Four years ago this week, when you and I were still together, she came to see me – she sat right there, where you are – and manipulated me into letting her sister out of prison. The truth is... I morphed from being attracted to her to being in love with her during that one short conversation."

"No," whispered Hestia, unwilling to believe this.

"I later broke it off with you because of the way I felt about her. I didn't feel it was fair to you then, being with you while in love with another woman, and now I don't feel it's fair to let you continue holding onto the hope you and I may reconcile. If that baby is mine, I'll take responsibility, however it is divorced parents typically do – weekends, holidays, financially, I don't know – but beyond the possibility of co-parenting that unplanned child, there is no us, Hestia. There never again will be."

"But when you see the baby..."

"I will not change my mind."

"But you'll be a father..."

"I was a father. And I made it clear to you I had no desire to father a child. I was clear throughout our entire relationship-"

"I always thought you'd change your mind!" Her voice rose half an octave. She swiped at the tears with her sleeve. "I didn't know, of course, that you'd had a child who died. Over five years of dating exclusively, and you never thought to mention-"

"It was private."

"You told the world in that Quibbler article!" She was struggling to breathe evenly. He reached into his desk and procured a clean handkerchief, which he slid across the desk to her. She used it to wipe her tears.

"I'm sorry I kept that from you. But I never lied to you. I told you I did not want children, that I did not want to be a father."

"No, not to a baby with me, but you'll take responsibility for her orphaned grandson and that poor, sad wayward girl!"

Kingsley pinched the bridge of his nose and clenched his teeth. She was on the brink of full on sobbing. He was teetering on the edge of a horrible headache. A Healer told him years ago that these awful headaches were his own fault, for keeping his feelings bottled, for suppressing them, for carrying around so much tension. But he prided himself on his ability to remain calm, even-keel, stoic.

She was testing his ability now.

"It may not be mine," he said, "But if it is-"

"It has to be yours! You have to be the father. The Healers pinpointed my conception date to that fourteen day period. And I wasn't on the potion then. When we were away together, that is. And I didn't use the spell."

"You knew there was a spell?" His eyes widened. Did everyone know about this bloody spell but him and Andromeda?

"It's only about eighty percent effective."

"Eighty-five," he corrected, assuming Augusta Longbottom had taught Neville well.

"Eighty, eighty-five, it doesn't matter! Don't you understand?" She balled up the handkerchief, clenching it in her fist. "I fell pregnant on purpose, Kingsley! I'm sure you're the father. I'd bet my life on it. I wanted this baby. I wanted a baby with you. I wanted you! I wanted the family we-"

"You fell pregnant on purpose?" He stood, his deep voice rumbling, but not rising. He pressed his fingertips to the top of the desk, willing himself to remain calm.

"I wanted you back." The tears came again. "I'm right for you. She's not. She's-"

"I cannot continue this discussion with you right now, Hestia. I can't look at you! How could you do that? Not only to me, and to yourself, but to a child? How could you-"

"It's our child! It has to be! I used the potion with him! I used nothing with you. I-"

He closed his eyes.

"I need you to go. I need you to leave."

"Kingsley, please…"

"Hestia!" Now he was the one slamming down a hand, staring sharply down at her. "I would never force a woman into a pregnancy she did not want, but you… you carelessly… you sneakily… you… to me... I..." He let out a growl of frustration. "I don't deserve this!"

"No, you wouldn't force a woman into a pregnancy she didn't want…" It was a struggle for her to get up from her seat. She had to move belly first, leaning heavily on the arms of the chair, but she had to face off with him on a more even plane. "But you forced me into an abortion I didn't want! I told you I wanted that baby! I told you, but you said... you said... If you hadn't made me-"

"Do not turn this around on me! You could have kept that child! I told you I would pay-"

"I didn't want your money!" She was shouting.

"No, only to trap me into marrying you!" He was shouting.

"I wasted over five years on-"

"I believe I asked you to leave!" He waved his wand and the door sprung open. "Does my secretary need to show you out?"

"I can find the exit, thank you." She tried to turn on her heel, flipping her hair over her shoulder, but she lost her balance and caught herself on the chair. She inhaled, exhaled hard, and stalked from the office without another look back at him.

"Perfect," he grumbled. He waved his wand again; the door slammed. He dropped into his chair. One of those tension headaches was no doubt on the horizon, unless he could transfigure one of his paperweights into a punching bag.

The office door opened. His secretary stood there, looking concerned.

"Minister Shacklebolt? Everything alright? I heard shouting."

He forced himself to sound cheerful. Or, at the very least, normal.

"Everything's fine! Are you heading to lunch?"

"Yes. Want me to bring you back that vindaloo dish you like?"

"No, thank you. I have too much work to do to think about eating."

"Alright, Minister." His secretary looked concerned, but didn't press it. "See you in thirty."

"Take an hour. You work hard."

"Thank you, Minister! Send a Patronus if you change your mind about the food."

The door clicked shut and, finally, he was alone again.

"Please, please let that baby not be mine," he murmured as he pressed his palms to his eye sockets. Please let the potion she used with the fiancé have failed.

The Floo in his office whooshed to life. He startled. A select number of people had access to it – the official Ministry living quarters, Andromeda's house, the Muggle Prime Minister, and precious few Ministry employees, none of whom he wanted to see right now.

Thankfully, it was the one person whose presence he didn't mind in that moment. Andromeda.

"Sorry to bother you at work, but-" she said. He was out of his chair with his arms around her before she finished her sentence.

"Thank you!" He kissed her soundly and hugged her as if they hadn't seen each other in weeks. "Why are you here?"

"I had an uneasy feeling, I can't explain it, but I felt compelled to see you so I thought I'd pop in, check whether you've had lunch yet."

"Lunch? No." He waved his wand, locking the door, then closed the Floo. No one could enter or exit for the time being. He then lifted her and sat her on the edge of his desk, parted her legs, slipped off her jumper, and began unbuttoning her blouse.

"What's this?" she asked, confused but not complaining.

"Had a bad morning," he said gruffly. He kissed her, hard. She responded enthusiastically, albeit still bemused.

"You want me to fuck you into a better mood?" she asked.

"Something like that," he answered.

He did not undress, simply unfastened his robe and undid his trousers, but he got her down to a bra and knickers, her jeans discarded on the floor with her shirts. Having no lubrication or time to 'get there' naturally, he used the spell to get her ready, and within seconds they were fucking in his office for only the second time since they'd started seeing each other.

"Four years ago," he growled into her ear. "Four years ago, Aurors arrested your sister for sending me a heart-shaped cherry pie with a knife through the center and the word 'Minister' painted on the handle."

"It said 'Ministry,'" Andromeda corrected him. "I know. I painted it. I sent it. I… oh… yes…" She tipped back her head. "It was my idea."

"I discerned as much when you appealed to me to release her." He thrust hard, fast, unforgivingly, with one hand leaving a bruised imprint on her left thigh and the other on the small of her back. "I wanted you then. I loved you then."

"You've gone mad," she said, but she kissed and nipped his neck and dug her fingernails into his back and loved every moment of this unexpected shag.

"That fucking baby is mine." His beard scratched the soft skin of her neck and shoulder as he buried his face against her. "Hestia was here. She got pregnant on purpose. It's my fucking baby."

"And this is why we're feeling… aggressive?" It hurt, how roughly he was taking her, but she gasped and moaned and encouraged him to continue.

He didn't last long.

She didn't get off.

She didn't mind.

When he was done, he continued to hold her there on his desk, breathing heavily, sweat-drenched. She cupped his face and kissed him gently.

"We'll manage." She kissed him again. "After everything we've been through this year, a baby's not going to break us."

He rested his sticky forehead against hers. "I love you, Andromeda."

"Where's your wand?" she asked. "Clean us up. Let's go to lunch."

Four days later, on Saturday just before one in the afternoon, Kingsley and Teddy headed out to join the new Quidditch Junior League formed by recently retired Holyhead Harpies star Gwendolyn Morgan and her much younger fiancé, current Bulgarian seeker Viktor Krum. Teddy was excited not only to be learning to play 'officially,' but because Kingsley had offered to be responsible for taking him to practices every Saturday for the next twelve weeks. Plus, Freddie Weasley would be there.

"All my friends are playing, Nana!" Teddy had whined when nervous Andromeda initially said no.

"You only have two friends, Teddy, and of them only one is playing," she'd pointed out. (Orlando, being a probable Muggle, had not been invited, much to both boys' disappointment.)

"Pleeeeease? If Freddie learns an' not me I won't be a Seeker when I go to Hogwarts like Harr-" Catching her hardened expression, he changed direction. "Like my favoritest cousin, Draco!"

"I'll consider it," Andromeda had finally said, though she's was still very much uncertain.

"They're testing the waters," Kingsley had said to Andromeda later that night, while the two were dressing for bed.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, if it goes well, they'll start a real league in the spring, outdoor, on a smaller pitch than the one at Hogwarts, but for now, the children will be in an unPlottable building erected in the Forest of Dean. It's been constructed with padded floors and they'll be using softer Bludgers and an inflatable Quaffle. The Snitch is bewitched to move more slowly than in a school or professional match and the ceilings are only twenty feet high. Players in Teddy's group range in age from five to seven. Upper groups is eight through ten. He'll love it!"

"Ceilings are only twenty feet high," she scoffed, imagining Teddy falling from that height and not feeling at all comforted by the promise of padded floors or softer Bludgers.

"No real danger!" he insisted. "And they'll have nurses on the premises in case of accidents. Plus, I'll be there. He'll be fine." He kissed her cheek. "Let me do this with the boy. I'll offer to help coach, they put out a call for six more adults with prior experience. I could head up his team. It would be an excellent father-son sort of activity."

"You're not his father," she said, but he could tell he was wearing her down.

"Won't it be good for Teddy, having an outlet for all that bundled up energy? Not to mention that learning a sport teaches children how to be good winners and losers, how to work hard to meet a goal, how to play as a team, how to follow directions and obey rules, how to-"

"Fine!" She pulled off her oversized Oxford t-shirt and reached for a flannel nightgown. "You coach his team and he can play. But if he gets hurt-"

"Boys get hurt. He'll live."

"He's not terribly coordinated. He takes after his mother. Do you have any idea how many times she fell off her broom at Hogwarts? She broke her wrist four times in her first year!"

"I'll be there." He kissed her again, this time on the lips. "Thank you!"

"I think you're as excited as he is."

"I might be."

She smiled. "My mother didn't allow us to play. She said it was not ladylike."

"I'll teach you to play too, then." He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. "You can ride my broomstick and handle my Bludgers any time. Then I'll catch your golden Snitch and-"

She swatted playfully at his chest. "Kiss my Quaffle, Minister."

"I'd love to." He grabbed her bum. "Where is it?"

Now it was Saturday and the first practice was set to commence.

Andromeda left Dorcas sleeping (she'd been out late with Neville the night before, making it home at eleven exactly) and headed to the shops to buy food and other necessities for the upcoming week. When she returned home, it was two-thirty. Kingsley and Teddy wouldn't be expected back until shortly after four. She listened. Someone was upstairs. Two someone's, at least. She could hear talking.

And breathing.

And the squeaking of springs under a mattress.

"Oh, fuck me, I hope Kingsley is home having an affair," she muttered, not at all excited about the more likely source of the sound. She left the groceries on the table and headed upstairs.

Dorcas' door was slightly ajar. Andromeda put her ear to the crack.

"Is that a yes?" Neville Longbottom's hopeful voice wafted into the hall.

"Yes… oh… please, yes," answered Dorcas, sounding breathy. "Don't stop."

"Ew," said Andromeda. She carefully closed the door and returned to the kitchen, switched on the rarely used radio, found her daughter's favorite Wizard Wireless station, and turned up the Weird Sister's latest hit.

By the time the young couple came downstairs, it was nearly four, Andromeda had switched off the radio when she could no longer stand modern music, and there was beef stew simmering in a pot on the stove. She was stirring a cinnamon stick in her tea and doing a crossword puzzle in her book.

"Goodness!" Dorcas looked surprised. "I thought you'd gone to the Quidditch practice with Teddy and Kingsley."

"No. I've been home. For hours."

Neville and Dorcas exchanged an uncomfortable glance.

"Hungry?" Andromeda waved her wand and the cabinet opened. "Have a coconut cream-filled Cauldron Cake. They're new. On the middle shelf."

"Er, thanks," said Neville. He reached in and took out two, handed one to Dorcas, then held the other toward Andromeda.

"Do you want one?"

"No, thank you." She lowered her eyes to the puzzle book. "I haven't been working up an appetite."

Neville and Dorcas turned identical shades of red.

"Neville, since it seems you're practically family now, would you like to join us for Christmas?" asked Andromeda. The holiday was just under a fortnight away. "Your grandmother is welcome too, of course. I've always liked and respected Augusta."

"Uh, sure. I'll ask her."

"Good. Sit down. Eat your cakes." She accioed over two plates and two forks. "As Kingsley and I told you last week, whatever you do is your business provided you're being safe and smart about it, which, I assume, you are. Though I'd recommend closing the door all the way next time. Muffles the sound. Just a tip."

Neville, still blushing, sat and tucked into the treat, but anxious Dorcas continued to hover by the doorway.

"What's wrong, dear?" asked Andromeda, glancing up from her book.

"I didn't think you would be home. I never would have invit-"

"I am not upset with you! Sit. Eat. Relax."

"Alright." Dorcas sat beside Neville and reached for a fork. He'd already unwrapped her cake and placed it on her plate. "But we weren't going to be doing that. It wasn't the plan. We were going to go out for lunch, I swear. But when Neville-"

"Dorcas, dear, I do not need details."

But Dorcas couldn't keep her confession in.

"It was the first time! We used protection! He was very gentle! The best I've had!"

(Neville choked on a bite of Cauldron Cake.)

"Dorcas." Andromeda set down the puzzle book and made eye contact. "If you'd like to talk about it, let's do so after Neville's gone home. I don't want the poor young man to aspirate his food and die on my kitchen floor. I've just mopped."

"Alright," agreed Dorcas. She speared a bite of cake. Andromeda chuckled.

By the time Kingsley and a very excited Teddy returned home a short time later, Andromeda had convinced Neville to stay for dinner and Narcissa had popped over hoping for a hot meal, too.

"Severus took Hope with him on an ingredients-gathering mission. They won't be home until tomorrow. He took the dog, too. I'm all alone in the house with Butters and she's too tired to cook because she was cleaning and decorating all day!"

"You made that poor old elf clean and decorate all bloody day?"

"Someone had to!" Narcissa plopped herself down at the table and pointed toward the stove. "Is that stew?"

"Yes."

"I like stew."

Andromeda rolled her eyes. "You can stay, you lazy, useless little hermit crab."

"Thank you. Bitch."

"That's an inappropriate word!" shouted Teddy. He climbed up on a kitchen chair, small broom in hand. "Look! I got my own broom, Nana! A Nimbus Tykes 2.0! It's brand new! Kingsley buyed it! Look, it's got my 'nitials on the handle!"

Andromeda looked over the sleek wood. Sure enough, TRL was engraved in fancy script on the wide part of the handle.

"Teddy Remus Lupin! I wanted it to say Teddy Lupin all in big letters, Teddy, not Tedward, but Kingsley said real players do 'nitials."

Andromeda snorted. "It's Edward, Teddy. Your name is Edward."

"TEDDY!" he shouted. "Just Teddy!" He hugged the broom to his chest. "Then I really wanted T-R-S for Teddy Remus Shacklebolt but Kingsley said no, just my real 'nitials."

"Oh, Teddy." Andromeda lifted him off the chair, kissed him, and placed him down on the floor.

"Nana, can you marry Kingsley and we change our name to Shacklebolt?"

"That's not how it works, my little love."

"Nana, a boy named Grayson is on my team! I memember him a little. You memember?"

"Yes, I remember Grayson." He was the grandson of Barnaby, the man she was dating when she first started seeing Kingsley. "Did he remember you?"

"Yes! And he is my third best friend after Orlando and Freddie!"

"Third best?" Andromeda chuckled. "Alright. I'm happy you had fun. Go up and wash your hands. And arms. And face. You're filthy!"

He scampered off, calling hello to Meow-meow on the way by. (Thankfully he made no mention of the "basalist." Perhaps he was too excited to remember his latest irrational fear.)

"How did he get so dirty?" Andromeda asked a moment later, when Kingsley entered the kitchen having changed from Quidditch robes to jeans and a jumper.

"For the last half hour, they let the children run around in the forest, like wild hippogriffs. There was some rolling in the dirt. Teddy fought with another boy. But I separated them, it's fine. He wasn't kicked off the team." Kingsley smiled. "Fortunately for him, he knows the coach. Oh, and I convinced Morgan and Krum to let Orlando on. He can join us next week. I said he might have some magic in him, being the younger brother of Hermione Granger, but it needs to be brought out, and that swayed them."

"I hope you're not setting that child up for more disappointment if he turns out to be a Muggle," said Andromeda, busying herself with the bread she was baking to serve with the stew. "Why was Teddy fighting?"

"We'll discuss it later."

"Hope is too young for that Quidditch league," said Narcissa, who was nursing a cup of tea at the table. "She was disappointed. She wants to do everything Teddy does. She loves him. She's such a loving little girl. She says Teddy is her very best friend. Isn't that the sweetest, loveliest thing you've ever-"

"Yes, yes, she's perfect," said Andromeda. "Neville, what would you like to drink with dinner? Butterbeer? Water? Coke? There's no wine in the house."

"Not one for wine anyway," said Neville. "Water's fine."

After dinner, Neville and Dorcas Flooed to the Burrow, where "everyone" would be gathering to celebrate Charlie Weasley's birthday, and Narcissa begged Andromeda to go out with her.

"I've been trapped in my home all week, Meda! Please! We'll go to Jean's to eat treats and watch the telly." (Narcissa had developed a slight obsession with Muggle television as of late. In particular, a soap opera called EastEnders that she had Jean recording on tapes for her to watch while the children played together.) "We're three episodes behind!"

"I don't know. It's late."

"Go out. Have fun." Kingsley kissed Andromeda's nose. "Not too much fun. No drinking."

"I know, I know."

"I sleep with you, Kingsley?" asked Teddy.

"No," said Kingsley. "But I'll help you with a shower, then we'll go over the Quidditch rules with your action figures, make sure you remember everything we learned today."

"Okay!" Teddy hurried up the stairs.

Narcissa headed into the living room to retrieve her winter coat. It was a cold night and snow was expected.

"He loves you," Andromeda said, taking Kingsley's hands and pulling him toward her. "And I love you."

"Show me tonight," he said quietly, his lips but a breath from hers. "We haven't had uninterrupted sex in six months."

"That's not true."

"Six weeks."

"Not true."

"Six days. At least."

"Wednesday morning," she corrected him. "Which was the second time this week." She giggled when he kissed her. "But fine."

But by the time Andromeda stumbled back into the house, Kingsley was sound asleep, and had been for several hours. She managed her way up the stairs, looked in on sleeping Teddy and sleeping Dorcas, then entered her bedroom. She wrestled her way out of her blouse, skirt, and nylons, but found unhooking her bra a task too difficult, so she threw herself on the bed still wearing it, along with a silk half-slip.

"Kingsley?" she whispered. She climbed up his body from the foot of the bed and stroked his bearded cheek. "Kingsley, you awake?"

"What time is it?" he mumbled.

"Three?"

"In the morning?"

"I'm home, Kingsley." She kissed his chin. "Want to fuck me?"

"You… are you…?" He opened his eyes. "You smell like firewhisky."

"Only a little," she said. She kissed him again and began pulling at the blankets, attempting to uncover him. "Fuck me."

"Are you drunk?"

"Not on purpose." He wouldn't allow her to draw down the covers, so she groped him through the comforter. "Fuck me?"

"Get off me."

"Get me off."

"Andromeda!" He fumbled blindly for his wand in the dark. "Lumos!"

"Kingsley? I snogged a witch at the bar. I had to. Cissy wagered a galleon I wouldn't. Are you angry? She was beautiful. The witch, not Cissy. She was a ginger, but with dark auburn hair, not orange. Her tits were lovely. She tasted like peppermint. The witch, not-"

"Fuck, Andromeda, what were you thinking?" He forced himself into a seated position. Andromeda tried to straddle his lap but tipped too far to the left and fell off the bed with an oof. He helped her back up and held onto her waist so she wouldn't end up on the floor again. She faced him, her hands on his shoulders.

"I used to be able to down a lot more," said Andromeda. "Took only four an' a half drinks over several hours to get me knackered."

"Oh, is that all?" He was fully awake now. And annoyed. To say the least. "I thought the two of you were going to go to Jean's for tea and the telly?"

"Jean wasn't home. She had a babysitter. Cissy didn't want to go back home. We went out. First, shopping. Then, the shops closed."

Andromeda tried again to kiss him. He blocked her by putting a hand in front of his face, palm out. She kissed that instead.

"You've been sober since April! What happened?"

"Cissy wants a divorce."

"I want a divorce! Fuck, Andromeda, you threw away thirty-four weeks of sobriety because your sister waffles weekly between being madly in love with her husband and wishing she never married him?"

"After she was through crying about wanting a divorce, she cried about missing him while he's away this weekend. She doesn't want to sleep alone. Can she sleep here? On my side."

"What, with us? No."

"She's on the couch right now."

"She can stay there."

"She wants to sleep with me. She doesn't like to sleep alone."

"She can sleep with Teddy, then. He doesn't like to sleep alone either." Kingsley screwed up his face; he could feel one of those stress headaches forming. "Fuck, fuck, Andromeda! What were you thinking? You weren't thinking. Fuck. Thirty-four weeks."

"I love you, Kingsley. I'm not too pissed, am I? Are you angry? I love you. Do you love me? Do you still love me? I love you." She sniffled. "I'm sorry."

She was drunk enough not to quite be in her right mind, enough not to be able to walk a straight line, but not so much she was slurring her words or on the verge of passing out. Narcissa, on the other hand, had barely made it through the front door. She'd fallen asleep twice on the Knight Bus.

"You should leave me," whispered Andromeda, as regret suddenly swept in to stifle her alcohol-induced euphoria. "Take Teddy. Take Dorcas. Take the bloody cat. Leave me alone to die."

"Stop with the dramatics. I have no intention of leaving you. But in the morning, when you're sober-"

"I made a mistake." She started to cry. "I threw everything away. I ruined everything. I made a mistake. I made a mistake. I made-"

"Hush." He cupped her cheeks, wiped her tears with his thumbs, and made her look at him. "We'll get through it."

"I ruined everything," she replied miserably. "Oh, Kingsley. I… I ruined… I threw away… I… I'm… I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm…" Her quiet tears gave way to sobs.

He held her to him, stroking her hair, lost in thought. His mind was whirling. What now? As much as she'd seemed unconcerned about Dorcas' recent transgression, he was half-panicked about hers. In one day shy of one week, they would be going before the partial Wizengamot to argue that she, not Harry Potter, deserved custody of little Teddy. In one day shy of one week, she would have to testify about her behavior since leaving the facility. In one day shy of one week, just days before Christmas, they might lose him.

"Do you hate me?" she asked through her tears. "Please don't hate me. Please don't. Please, I love you. Please, Kingsley, if you hate me, I'll die. I'll die. Please…"

"I don't hate you," he assured her. "I love you."

"Let me tell you," she said. No, pleaded. "Let me tell you, Kingsley. Please, please. Let me tell you what happened. Let me tell you."

"Not now," he said. He kissed her temple. "In the morning. Not now."

Now was not the time to talk. It was not the time lecture her, to be angry, or to discuss whether this relapse would warrant renewed therapy session. There would be time for that later.

For now, he noxed out the lights, helped her under the blankets, and held her as she sobbed "I'm sorrys" into his soft cotton pajama shirt.

A/N:

Thank you so much to Francine Hibiscus, Banglabou, and sassanech for reviewing the last chapter, and thank you to everyone who's reading this fic! Sorry for the shorter chapter, but so much happened I felt like it would be counter-productive to add more just for the sake of a wordcount. I hope you'll stick with it! Next week, they go before the partial Wizengamot.

-AL