7
NORAH wished for Death, that cloaked hooded figure from the stories, to come and take her away. She felt as though this horrible darkness were closing in around her, pulling her under the chasm of her mind. She'd already fought so hard.
Part of the young werewolf wanted nothing more than to just let go, to fall back into the calm abyss of nothingness in her exhaustion and let it carry her away. Even as her body and mind begged for relief, Norah knew she could not allow herself to give up. She would never give up, and this was going to take every ounce of her inner Gryffindor courage within her that she still possessed today.
She wanted this so desperately, needed it so bad that it was a constant reminder as an ache in her chest.
This was all she had of her husband now.
As a werewolf, Norah had fought all her life. She'd been unmoving and a fierce force to be reckoned with, and unstoppable. Those who'd dared to challenge her usually fell at the tip of her wand or in worst-case scenarios, died when her sharp incisors, her fangs, sank into the flesh of their neck.
That past life had seemed so long ago.
Before Ollie had met her in that wretched underground nightclub run by one of Crouch Jr.'s old known associates, a goblin named Ragnok when she'd been sold as a slave by Fenrir Greyback as a fitting punishment for daring to speak out against the rest of the Pack. Before she'd gone on the run from Ollie and his group of Snatchers.
Before they'd dueled in the Forest of Dean and she'd thought he was going to kill her, but he'd shown a small ounce of mercy that night and had chosen to let her go free, only to stumble across her again two weeks later in Diagon Alley.
Before she'd thawed his heart before the two of them had shared their passions and their love for another in a secret whirlwind romance of lust and passion, all while trying to keep their union a secret from his father, Jack, while Ollie had already been pursued by a pureblood witch, a Lestrange, to keep the pureblood lineage intact. Norah stumbling into Ollie's life had upended that. Before Tonks and Lupin and Sirius had told him that her husband had died during the Battle of Hogwarts. He'd died protecting his wife.
Before. Before. Always before. But now, in the here and now and not before, Norah Brennan was almost certain this was a battle that she didn't think she could be won, and with so precious and dear a prize at stake.
The last vestiges of her strength were slowly draining from her, falling away like water over rocks, and with still so far to go on, too, Norah was forced to hold on with what little might she still possessed. Failure right now wasn't an option.
Every one of her scars, self-inflicted bite wounds, or otherwise during her painful transformations carried a memory, but with it, a victory too. Her victories over fear, pain, threats, torments, had made the werewolf a fierce Gryffindor when she'd been enrolled at Hogwarts, a year or two behind Tonks. Her scars gave her a sense of a reminder of what she was, her place in this world, but all of them seemed useless compared to this. Norah had known pain all her life but never quite like this. This agony was ten times worse than any transformation, any Cruciatus Curse that she'd ever been on the receiving end of.
This agony was far more urgent and desperate, and much, much more significant for her. Her world had shrunk to the small sphere of the darkening overwhelming torment that now surrounded her and threatened to engulf her.
And to make matters worse, the hand she gripped onto, threatening to break their fingers was not that of Ollie's, who should be by her side as her body fought and struggled to bring their baby into the world, but instead, Remus was holding her hand. Her body was ravaged by the pains that were coming faster, lasting longer, twisting her swollen stomach with each passing length as she restlessly paced the floor.
Her breaths burst from her lungs in uncontrollable gasps, the pain-filled wolfish whines that escaped her throat drowned out the sound of the blizzard's wind whipping against the window of Norah and Ollie's manor, the Brennan family estate, on the outskirts of Wales, perched atop a hill in the countryside near the woods, giving Norah a safe place to transform once a month during her full moon cycles.
"I—I'm sorry, Remus," Norah gulped, squeezing her eyes shut. "I don't mean to be so loud," she panted regretfully, blinking rapidly to try to rid her eyes of the tears that had accumulated, wishing that Ollie were here by her side. She shot Tonks an apologetic look, where Tonks was busy with Mrs. Weasley preparing what they would need to help birth Norah's baby.
It was Christmas Eve, December 25th, 1998, and her husband was not by her side for the birth of their baby. The snow outside had become so thick that the trees surrounding the property of the Brennan family estate had appeared as confetti as if they themselves were the flakes that danced.
Dora's husband, Merlin bless that man, shook his head against hers as a show of support.
"No," Remus told his wife's best friend and Teddy Lupin's godmother forcefully. "You do not apologize for anything, Norah. Tonks has been in your place before," he assured her. "There's no one else here in this house except for the five of us, scream and howl if you need to, Norah," he murmured, glancing briefly towards Mrs. Weasley and Tonks, who was still standing over by Norah and Ollie's dark mahogany dresser, grinding some kind of herbs with a mortar and pestle to purify the room before the birth of Norah and Ollie's baby.
The Brennan family's house-elf, a female house-elf named Whisky, had perched herself at the edge of the king-sized mattress and was painfully twisting her clean tea cozy into a dozen knots, her large, bat-like ears drooping in worry and concern.
Lupin thought he felt Norah smile weakly up against his neck, and it made him feel a little better but only for a moment. He flinched as Norah let out a relieved little sigh through her pursed lips, for a split second, feeling Ollie's wife relax in his arms as he patiently paced back and forth in a restless line with the young werewolf while she worked through the spasm of another contraction.
"Remus, dear, would you be a love and run downstairs and fetch us some more towels?" Molly asked kindly, peeking over her shoulder right at the exact moment that Norah's loud wail pierced the air, the only sound to drown it out was the howling winds of the frigid icy blizzard outside.
"Of course," he murmured softly, shooting Mrs. Weasley and his wife a soft, encouraging smile, though it felt strained. He could feel his cheeks' reluctance to be molded so falsely like this.
Ollie, Merlin damn him, should be the one beside his wife right now, holding her hand, not him. Not that he minded doing this for Norah, in the least, but it was Ollie's baby, not his. He sighed.
Norah, through bleary eyes and her haze of pain, quickly nodded her agreement and shooed him away, shrugging out of his grasp, letting one hand rest over the top of her swollen stomach and the other supporting her back, which must have been giving her all kinds of horrible aches and pains. "Hurry," she pleaded, biting down on her lip.
Remus nodded in agreement and ran out of the doorway, the little house-elf named Whisky right at his heels to show him where Ollie and Norah kept their spare towels in a walk-in closet downstairs in their master bedroom. He found the towels with Whisky's help no problem, murmuring a half-hearted, "Thank you," under his breath to the little creature, before darting back up the winding spiral staircase of the second floor to their spare bedroom that Lupin and Tonks had stayed in once or twice, particularly after the attack at Bill and Fleur's wedding and they needed a place to lay low for a few days until things calmed down.
Lupin found poor Norah in the painful throes of another harsh contraction.
She paced the floor, clutching at her stomach with one hand, supporting her aching back with the other, while Mrs. Weasley soothed the young blonde witch as best as she could, trying to coax her to breathe through the pain. If anyone could guide her on how to do this the right way, it was Molly, Merlin bless the mother of all seven of her children, he thought.
Remus stood awkwardly in the doorway of the room, the towels Mrs. Weasley had asked for tucked underneath one arm, not sure what to do. He dropped the towels into Tonks's outstretched and waiting arms and rushed to his son's godmother's side. He wanted badly to help his friend, but he knew he was just a bystander.
This was Norah's work. He was also certain that Norah was still, even after the last seven months had passed, highly suspicious of Tonks' answer when she'd asked for details about Ollie's death, and why, if he was dead, he had no gravesite.
Lupin wished he could somehow ease her mind and her pain, to tell her the truth, that Ollie was alive, but he knew Sirius had been right. If they told Norah the truth of her husband's deal with the cloaked figure of Death, it would only make the young woman's life that much more difficult now.
"Are you alright, Norah?" Lupin asked, feeling more helpless than he had before as he watched Mrs. Weasley gently guide Norah to the bed and helped the young witch to lay down, resting her head against a mountain of hard pillows. He awkwardly stepped back and let Molly work, thinking he was just being a nuisance now.
"No," Norah shot back vehemently through gritted teeth as she stifled a painful groan in her throat. "I am having my baby, Lupin," Norah eyed him scornfully as she let Molly adjust her pillows.
Remus lowered his head, wishing there were more he could do for their friend. Eager to appease his son's godmother, he stepped towards the small table he'd set aside the pile of folded towels on and grabbed one, setting it at the foot of the bed so whomever was going to catch the baby when it came out, probably Mrs. Weasley, would have one ready and on standby whenever she needed it.
Drawing his wand from the pocket of his trousers, he raised his slightly shaking wand hand and pointed it towards the fireplace in the hearth, murmuring the incantation under his breath as a surge of flames erupted from the tip of his wand, causing a lighted fire to begin to blaze in the hearth.
Norah's focus on trying to force herself to remain calm became distracted by the occasional popping crackling noise of the logs in the metal grate. "Remus! What on earth are you doing?" Norah yelled, squinting, and bracing her abdomen in pain.
"A—a fire," Remus answered, hectically, a fiery heat creeping to his cheeks that he knew had nothing to do with the warmth emanating from the fire in the hearth that he'd just lit as he wildly averted both his wife's and his friend's gaze. "So, you're warm, Mrs. Brennan, and for the light," he stammered. He was trying to help, but he honestly felt like he was making everything worse for her.
Norah warily lifted her gaze to Remus's, showing the man she understood the need for the sound that had otherwise ruined her concentration. She stifled a tiny smile that looked more like a pained grimace as their family's house-elf scrambled up onto the king-size bed, albeit with some difficulty, given how high up the four-post bed off the floor was, and how tiny Whisky was.
Norah smiled to her husband's house-elf as the female house-elf scrambled in her haste to appear at her mistress's side and turned, brushing a lock of her lank dark hair out of her eyes, cut short in a straight stylish pageboy, and glared at Remus.
Lupin wasn't sure whether to laugh or not as the spritely little house-elf pulled a face of disgust and stuck her tongue out at him.
"Mistress Brennan, if Master Lupin is bothering Mistress, Whisky would be more than delighted to throw him out. He stinks like wet dog as it is," she snapped. "Whisky does not think Mistress should be surrounded by another wolf when baby arrives, animal instincts will surely take over, Mistress Norah, Whisky will remove him for you if you would like, mum," Whisky squeaked in a slightly hoarse sounding voice as the little creature continued to shoot Lupin a look of disdain.
"No!" Tonks yelled from the foot of the bed as she waved her wand to cause a chair that had been sitting idle in the furthermost corner of the room to float in midair over towards her so she could sit. Mrs. Weasley did the same and copied her movements. "Whisky, please, don't do it!" she cried desperately, biting down on her lip, watching in minor amusement as the Brennan family's house-elf's ears perked up in anger and annoyance and was unsuccessfully trying to pry Remus away from Norah's bedside by tugging on his sweater sleeve. "Molly and I need him here to help with the birth. H—he didn't mean to upset your mistress. Please," Dora begged, wriggling her brows at her.
Turning to face her owner, Whisky's ears drooped in minor disappointment as Norah nodded. "Let Remus stay," she said kindly, reaching up a clammy hand and patting the house-elf on top of her head. "He didn't mean it, Whis."
Whisky slowly nodded her head, though it wasn't enough to stop the house-elf from shooting a dirty look in the other werewolf's direction. He didn't quite understand why the Brennan family's house-elf had never liked him. Norah seemed to be the only werewolf the sometimes cantankerous creature had taken a liking to, at least according to Tonks, who knew Norah much better than he did.
"Don't you worry, mistress," Whisky squeaked in a kind voice as she scrambled to retrieve a damp cloth from a small wooden basin that rested on the night table on Norah's side of the bed. "Whisky is here. Whisky looks after master and mistress and little baby Brennan, not Master Lupin, Whisky puts the older werewolf in his place, mum," she said. Another scathing look in Lupin's direction.
Remus found it difficult not to roll his eyes a bit. He glanced towards his wife out of the corner of his gaze as he perched himself at the edge of the bed, while Whisky clambered overtop of Norah's swollen abdomen to flank her mistress's other side and allowed Norah to grasp onto his hand as tightly as she could. He flinched at the young blonde she-wolf's strong ironclad grip.
Any tighter and she'd break all the bones in his right hand's fingers. Norah collapsed back against the mountain of pillows as Whisky continued to sponge at her damp brow slick with sweat, both a combination from the heat that now flooded the room from the fireplace and sweat from her ordeal that her body was undergoing of the difficult task of preparing to bring her baby into the world. Whisky noticed Remus looking lost and rolled her eyes.
"Don't worry, mistress. Whisky will not be leaving your side." She awkwardly patted Norah's hand and continued dabbing at her brow with the damp cloth or feeding her ice chips.
Still gasping against the pain, Norah let out a low guttural groan from the back of her throat, not protesting as Mrs. Weasley swept aside the thick woolen and slightly scratchy blanket she lay underneath on a pile of towels to protect the bed in their spare bedroom from the filth that came along with childbirth, and began to lift the nightgown she wore.
"Now let's see where you are, dear," Mrs. Weasley said in a calm, collected voice. Her tone was quiet but reassuring. Everything Norah needed at this moment to help her stay calm.
Well. Almost everything. The absence of her husband by her side was an overwhelming void in her heart, a hole that she was sure never to be filled, but there was nothing that could bring back the dead. Norah winced, tears filling her eyes as she wished Ollie were here to see the birth of their baby as Mrs. Weasley began to gently probe her belly, feeling for the position of the baby within.
"H—he's moved down in my hips, Molly," Norah told her as she sucked on another ice chip. "I can feel it," she groaned through gritted teeth.
Molly and Tonks collectively grinned in Norah's direction, though Remus could see it. There was no mistaking the twinge of melancholia in both witches' eyes as they thought the same thing. That Norah's husband should be there for this.
What was even worse, Remus decided, as Moll shot Remus a knowing little look, was how the entire rest of the now-disbanded Order of the Phoenix knew the truth from Sirius and had been sworn to secrecy by Remus and Tonks not to tell.
Norah was the only one kept in the dark about the truth that her husband was truly alive.
Remus saw Mrs. Weasley's neck bob as she swallowed a lump in her throat and stole a glance towards Lupin, who sat by Norah's side and shot her a knowing look and a tiny curt shake of his head.
"I'm sure of it," came Norah's voice as she tried to smile through her current haze of agony.
Molly nodded, her face a little more crestfallen than before, though Mrs. Weasley quickly shook her head and came back to herself, lest Norah started to suspect something was amiss.
She knelt forward and pushed Norah's knees upward. "I have to check where the baby's head is, dear. This won't be the most comfortable sensation, but I promise to be quick," Molly said as she slid her skillful fingers inside of her. Norah gasped and bit down on her tongue at the discomfort. Laying there on their spare bed exposed like this, Norah was surprised with Lupin and Tonks in the room alongside her, that she wasn't embarrassed, but she realized she didn't care. She just wanted the baby out of her right now.
"Well, the good news, dearie, is that you're fully dilated and the baby's starting to come down, like you said," Molly said as she removed her hand and wiped at her hands with a damp rag Tonks wordlessly handed off. "Are you feeling the urge to push yet?" Mrs. Weasley asked, smiling at Norah.
Norah swallowed as a sheen of sweat started to throng alongside the front and side of her temple, sliding down her graceful temple just then.
"I…" she gasped, biting down on her lip hard enough to crack the skin and make it bleed. Her answer died upon her lips as she threw back her head and let out a piercing wail that threatened to split Remus's head in two and shatter his ears.
She was deep in the throes of her labor, her pained face searching the ceiling for some relief. She could no longer tell where one pain stopped and the next one started. Norah feverishly clutched at handfuls of the blankets beneath her, twisting the material into ironclad knots around her fists.
Her voice became a ragged wail against the pain. Her back arched with the force beginning to bear down as she gritted her teeth in utter agony.
Just a few inches from her, Lupin sat on the edge of the mattress, trying not to flinch away in pain as Norah Brennan threatened to break his fingers. He felt utterly useless in this situation. What was worse was the thought that they were adding to Norah's torment by not disclosing the truth to her, that he was alive and well, but…not.
Neither of them had seen Ollie since he'd so heartbrokenly left Tonks alone outside Grimmauld Place the night he'd brought Norah back to this world, and none of them knew when he would return. Though he knew they couldn't.
Ollie's mere presence in Norah's life given what he now was and the conditions of his deal with the cloaked figure of Death was more of a burden than the man perhaps realized for himself. Not having her husband by her side for the birth of their first and now their only child was sure to make Norah's delivery that much more difficult.
This should have been the happiest time of her life, of Ollie's lives, of Dora and Remus's, knowing that Teddy would have someone close to his own age to grow up alongside and befriend, and it had been made a trauma by the actions of her husband's desperate need to keep his wife alive.
Lupin's heart raged against its cage of bone and cartilage within his chest to think that their dear mutual friend might never truly recover from mourning the loss of the love of her life, as violent and temperamental as Ollie Brennan could be.
He wasn't there when the Death Eater at the time had met the blonde werewolf, but Dora was, though she'd never purposefully divulged much of the details, stating that it wasn't her business to share, and if they ever chose to, it was Norah's choice or Ollie's. He sat on the edge of the bed, feeling more alone, and lost than ever before this, silently praying for his friend's body to have mercy on her. Suddenly, Norah propped herself up onto her elbows and drew in a sharp breath.
"Oh, god," she swore through gritted teeth, her blue eyes growing wide with alarm as she looked at her abdomen. She couldn't wait any longer. "It's coming, I...I don't think I can hold it in anymore, Molly. I...have to push, right now," she breathed, drawing her knees back and clutching onto the blanket harder, accentuating each gasping breath her lungs tried to force out.
Lupin watched helplessly as Norah gritted her teeth and forced her muscles downward, her body needing its first hard push to bring her baby into the world.
"Here, Rem, let me take over," Tonks encouraged in a soothing voice. "Go sit by Molly, do whatever Mrs. Weasley tells you," Dora commanded, the steely tone of her Auror voice coming out, the tone that Remus always liked to hear, that sent the fiery wanton ache between his legs when it was just the two of them alone, but there would be time for that later when they got home. He gratefully leaped up off the bed and allowed Dora to take his place. He winced and gingerly flexed his reddened and swollen fingers.
"Here, dear, come sit by me," Molly encouraged in a firm but kind voice as she patted the stool that Tonks had just more or less vacated.
Lupin gratefully obliged, ready to be on standby in case Mrs. Weasley needed anything, though the look of determination and resolve on the matronly witch's lined face told him otherwise.
A straining groan rose from Norah's throat as she closed her eyes, listening to the soothing and encouraging words from one of her best friends, trying to hide against the pressure and her pains.
Attempting to catch her breath, Norah's body would simply not give the werewolf the rest she so desperately craved, instead, compelling her to bear down harder and push again. Finally, after a few minutes, Norah relaxed, her lungs heaving for air as she collapsed her head against the pillow.
She lay there, her eyes frantic and utterly panicked as she worked hard to push Ollie's baby towards life. Norah Brennan's moaning and wails had become anguished screams that were only faintly drowned out by the roaring blizzard outside.
Lupin sat by Mrs. Weasley, who was being infuriatingly patient throughout all of this, but then again, she'd been present alongside Tonks for Teddy's birth, and there was no one Norah would trust more other than Dora to help with her labor.
For a minute or two, it appeared that Norah's body had taken pity on the werewolf and was allowing the witch to rest. Watching her intently from his stool, Lupin noticed slick tears were falling down the side of her face.
He realized, horror-struck, that Norah's strength and resolve were fast failing her. She lay staring up at the ceiling, gasping, panting, nearly in shock from the pain. Then her faint voice pleaded with his wife.
"Tonks." Norah whimpered. "Help me."
Tonks's grip on her best friend's hand tightened as she looked encouragingly into her face and found horrible grief and fear in her eyes that made Tonks's heartstrings ache with pity and she became wracked with guilt at what she and the others had come to a consensus the night Norah was brought back: that she could never know the truth. Knowing what Ollie had done to himself, what he had become, and for her, would kill her.
"I—I can't do this, Tonks." Norah closed her eyes, lost in her torture. Her voice was hushed and faint as her strength waned. "Ollie should be by my side. I—I can't do this without him here," she sobbed. Then she swallowed hard and blearily looked her friend square in the eyes, somehow able to see Tonks through her haze of pain. "You and Remus have to promise me, whatever happens…" Norah's voice cracked as she paused, wincing in pain. "That you'll save my baby," she begged tearfully through tears.
Tonks's heart surged as the Auror refused to accept the meaning behind her friend's words. She'd already more or less lost Ollie, she couldn't lose Norah, too. Not after all the shit that they'd been through these last two years of their friendship.
Tonks vehemently shook her head no, looking solemnly into Norah's piercing pale blue eyes, which were full to the brim with a pleading, the likes of which she'd never seen in the wolf before, until tonight. It was unnerving to say the least.
"No. You're going to be just fine, Norah. You're Norah Elisabeth Brennan. One of the strongest witches in all of Great Britain, Norah," she reminded her, tears falling from her eyes, too. "You tamed a Death Eater, taught him what it meant to love. If anyone can do it, you can!"
But Norah shook her head. "Swear it!" she yelled, distraught, as her panic was almost consuming as another painful spasm hit her body.
Tonks did not want Norah to think she had given up and could not allow Ollie's wife to quit.
But she knew she needed to ease her friend's mind. "I swear it," she vowed, reluctantly, unsure if it were something that either one of them in this room would have the courage to do if it came to it.
Could any one of them really cut apart her body to reach the baby should something go wrong? She squeezed her eyes shut, not letting herself think it. She gave Norah's hand a squeeze.
"I'm right here, Nor. I'm not anywhere else. Let us all help you and we'll do this together. You're not alone," she said, reaching up a hand to stroke at her blonde hair, swiping her bangs off of her sweaty forehead.
Norah looked at Tonks weakly and nodded. She felt Tonks's hand clutching her own, strong, and unswerving. There was no time for the werewolf to wonder at the strength behind the Auror's ironclad grip, or to be afraid that in her own intensity, she'd break her best mate's fingers.
Ollie's wife sensed the young Auror leaning close to her, willing some of her strength into her, Tonks's face pulled taut with worry and concern.
Tonks's words echoed in Norah's pounding eardrums, compelling her to keep going. "Push, Norah, push!" Tonks eagerly implored, a note of excitement seeping its way into her tone, trying to force the resolve into her grieving friend that she sensed was failing her. Tonks knew she was no substitute for Ollie, who was missing the birth of his son or daughter, and Norah could never know.
From somewhere, Norah swore she heard her own voice straining a guttural reply, a scream, as her body again attempted to push the baby out of her burning womb and into this world towards life.
Her babe, his babe.
Norah replayed the past moon cycles as if they'd all been a distant memory.
Waking after the Battle of Hogwarts to learn that she had been knocked unconscious by Fenrir Greyback, according to Tonks, that Ollie had died in the skirmish protecting her to the end.
She remembered hearing the news that Ollie had died, how devastated she had been. She'd cried for days, stricken with grief.
The first night after she'd woken up had been the worst. Norah had cried so much she'd physically made herself vomit.
Tonks and Lupin had been so kind, so caring to her. The two of them had been the only ones among the rest of the Order of the Phoenix, or anyone else in her life for that matter, whom Norah would allow near her.
The only ones who'd gained entrance to her darkened, tomb-like bedroom as she had returned home to her family's estate once Sirius had deemed her fit to go back to her home once her wounds were fully tended and recovered.
Norah remembered not being able to face even her father. Dad's sweet, worried face would have been too much, and Norah knew she would lose all hope of the control she desperately hoped to regain.
It seemed like only yesterday that Norah had stood before the full-length mirror in their bedroom, studying her rounding stomach, amazed, unable to regain an ounce of breath, feeling Ollie's baby move within her belly.
How she ached for her husband to return to her, but so far as Norah knew, there would never be a cure for death.
And at that moment, just like that, Oliver James Brennan mattered more than ever before, and her entire world shifted, and she chose to focus on seeing her baby brought safely forth into this world.
Her world since mourning her husband's death had been so very simple, boiling down to that one tiny heartbeat that her wolfish hearing could sometimes sense if she listened, became her reason for going on without Ollie.
Norah had never wanted to be a mother, had never imagined she would be, given what she was. But now that she carried a little life within her womb, the little being that grew inside of her was the only thing that Norah could focus on now.
Again, through her haze of agony, Norah heard Tonks's words of encouragement as another spasm ravaged her exhausted and suffering body.
Somewhere in the din outside her awareness, Norah felt a soothing coolness of a wet cloth, which Ollie's house-elf Whisky used to wipe the sweat from her brow and brush strands of her hair off her sticky forehead.
"It's almost over, Mistress," Whisky squeaked in an excited-sounding voice. The little house-elf was excited to help have a new life to care for, and Norah and Tonks had bonded with the creature when Tonks had first met Norah two years ago after everything that had happened, causing the Brennan family, or at least Ollie, to see how harshly he'd been treating her.
Norah weakly nodded, gulping in ragged, gasping breaths of air as if all the oxygen were disappearing from the room. She gritted her teeth and let nature and the powers that be take over, bearing down hard as much as her strength would let her try to force her child out of her womb.
The pain burned her insides, stretching, twisting, warping, worse than anything she'd ever felt in her life, and that included her transformations. Norah's ragged gasps quickly morphed into agonized screams as the baby began to emerge, tearing through her with such an excruciating and powerful force, she thought she was ripping apart.
Norah squeezed onto Tonks's hand even more desperately and pushed again.
She was fucking exhausted. She'd been laboring nearly the whole day. Her pains had started early that morning, shortly after everyone had wrapped up with Christmas lunch at the Burrow, Norah forcefully dragged out of Ollie's family estate by Tonks herself, who didn't want her to spend Christmas Eve alone. Shortly after two o'clock that afternoon, her contractions were pummeling her relentlessly, one right after the other. However, the baby wasn't moving down.
Mrs. Weasley and Lupin exchanged a worried glance as Norah answered her body's overwhelming urge to push with all her strength, until the poor thing was nearly in shock from the pain, and still, her muscles couldn't force the babe out. That was until Molly took matters into her own hands. She placed her palms, one on top of Norah's stomach, and one below, and shoved, hard.
Norah screamed, thinking she'd burst from the pain, and at this point, that might just be better.
It took Mrs. Weasley several grueling attempts, but finally, her and Ollie's baby curled inside of her broke free of her pelvic bone upon which it was stuck and began to be forced towards life by the straining its mother could not control.
"Norah, Norah, honey, stop crying and look into my eyes!"
Molly's tone was surprisingly harsh but confident, and it forced Norah Brennan to focus through the haze of nearly blinding agony she was in. She made eye contact and tried to breathe deeply.
This was bloody it, soon, she would see her baby.
Molly nodded, wiping sweat off her own brow a strand of her wild red hair clung to her forehead, damp with perspiration. She looked exhausted, though nowhere near as spent as Norah.
"Good, dear, that's good. Now give me maybe two more good strong pushes. Go…now!"
A passing fear overcame her, and with gritted teeth, Norah did as she commanded, squeezing her eyes shut and began to bear down hard, pushing Ollie's baby out of her womb.
Their child was the only thing she would have left of her husband. The pain was worse than anything she had ever felt in her entire life, but she could not let it stop her. She propelled herself onward, feeling the baby's head begin to emerge between her widespread legs. She saw a smile begin to appear on Mrs. Weasley's lined, weathered face and took that as a good sign.
"That's it, Norah, I see it! The top of the head is showing! Dark hair too, just like its father! Keep going, dearie, it's almost over!"
For all of Norah's inner strength and resolve, the former Gryffindor and wife of Oliver James Brennan, Death Eater, and Auror, could not overcome the pain, and her bloodcurdling, agonized screams filled their spare bedroom as the blizzard outside raging war on the elements went on, but her screams brought with them an announcement of a new life brought into the world.
It was a healthy baby boy. Norah had been wrong on that hunch, thinking she and Ollie were destined to have a little girl, but that didn't matter one bit. She burst into tears and wept as her squalling baby boy was laid into her arms.
"I—I have a son, we have a son, Ollie. He's beautiful," she whispered, her voice cracking as she spoke to Ollie, hoping that wherever her love was, he heard her.
Even still wet and bloody, their son was perfect. She never dreamed it was possible to love something so instantly and completely as the way her throbbing heart soared for the little person she and her husband's passionate love had created. By the time Norah lowered her head to kiss his slick little soft head, she'd almost forgotten the pain and fear of the ordeal of her new son's birth.
Norah never wanted to let this squalling bundle in her arms go, and knew she'd give all that she had to give and do everything within her power to keep her son safe.
It was all she had left of him. Her tears fell not only to welcome her newborn son but to mourn for Ollie tonight, too.
As she looked into the tiny face that already looked so much like his father, her thoughts went unbidden to Ollie, and what he had sacrificed for her so that she and their baby would be able to live.
Her heart ached as she remembered the nights of passion they would share after dark in their bed, wrapped in each other's arms. Her tongue could still taste the lingering sweetness of his kiss, and her skin grew hot at just the memory of his gentle caresses. How tender and gentle he was around her in a way that he reserved only for her.
She'd foolishly thought that nothing could ever get one over on her husband, the talented wizard that he was, former status as a Death Eater notwithstanding. Even now, she could see Ollie's handsome face, smiling softly at her as she closed her eyes for a moment. She wondered if he would be proud to look upon his son if he'd be proud of his wife for summoning the strength to carry on.
His death had utterly shattered her, ripped her in two. Norah had tried to bury Ollie's memory, but it did no good.
She couldn't count the number of times she'd woken up after a nightmare, bathed in sweat, and drenched in her own salty tears as their baby made its presence know inside her stomach during the last several months of her pregnancy.
How desperately she wanted to have her husband here by her side, to comfort her, for him to have been the one holding her hand while their baby was being born. Her new son wriggled in her arms, his soft cooing pulling Norah out of her tempest of thoughts of her husband's death and overall absence in her life and back to her reality.
She smiled weakly, nuzzling the tiny cheek that nestled against her bare skin, lovingly reaching up her index finger and watched as the baby's tiny fist curled tightly around her finger.
She had his child, his baby. She'd been the one to keep that part of Ollie alive all of this time.
She'd brought her son screaming with strength and pride into this world. At least, her conscience tried to assuage her guilt, she would have that much of her husband, if nothing else left.
When her birthing was finished, Norah rested weakly against the mountain of pillows behind her head, her baby already rooting for milk, as Molly and Tonks attended to the final remnants of her difficult delivery, while Lupin cleaned up the area as best as he could and went back downstairs.
"He's beautiful, Norah," Lupin smiled softly from the doorway, the piles of bloodied towels under his arm as he rolled up the sleeves of his sweater. Norah broke her gaze from her baby's face and smiled up at her best friend's husband, the joy of being a new mother shining on her tired face.
She looked exhausted but was smiling in a way that only a new mother could. The happy tears that fell from the young werewolf's eyes only endeared Norah Brennan more to Remus Lupin.
"What will his name be, dear?" Molly Weasley asked sweetly, enjoying watching the petite blonde werewolf so enthralled with her newborn, knowing that it had not been easy labor for the poor dear, especially with Ollie not by her side. She bristled and gnashed her teeth together at the reckless decision the girl's husband had made but gave her head a shake to clear it.
Norah had sent an owl to her father, Elias Jameson, just north of Scotland after she had discovered she and Ollie were pregnant and expecting a baby. Her heart was utterly terrified at what the stubborn German's response to her bearing a baby with a Death Eater would be. Let alone that her husband, a man who was supposed to protect his precious baby girl and his child, had gotten himself killed at the Battle of Hogwarts. And all because he couldn't bring himself to stay home with Norah and wait for news of their friends, of Lord Voldemort's defeat, and now he was dead, leaving Norah as a widow to raise her baby alone.
She'd been more than terrified to think that her dad would deem her little more than a whore and disown her for daring to marry the son of the very man who'd killed her older brother, Rhys, a little over two years ago, declaring her unwelcome in their family's home, and never want to see her.
She'd laid awake sleepless in the nights, waiting for his owl, almost dreading it when he'd send in Hermes, his little brown dwarf owl no bigger than the size of a Muggle tennis ball.
When the owl had at last arrived, she'd held the envelope in her purse for almost a week, too afraid to open it. Finally, at Remus Lupin's hopeful bidding, she'd relented, opening the note, and reading the words her father had penned, already fearing the worst.
Her breaths slowly trailed from her lungs, her chest filled with a warmth of new hope. Her father's immediate concern had been only for her health and that of her unborn baby within her.
"I'm overjoyed at the news that I'm going to be a pop-pop," Elias Jameson had written. "I pray to Merlin and His Light that He will see you safely through my grandchild's birth, as will your mother, Merlin rest her soul. I pray also for your child, and that you will bear a healthy baby, Nor." He carried on in the letter he had written to his only daughter. "Your child is a Brennan and will share proudly in the new legacy that you and your husband built together. Oliver will live on in your son and daughter.'
He went on for a bit, saying how sorry he was to hear of Ollie's death, and begged Norah to bring the baby home to meet him as soon as they were ready, and swore what she was ashamed of, that she had even questioned, his undying love for his daughter, no matter what.
Replaying reading her father's letter to her in her mind, seeing the snippets of the phrases, as though she were watching the memory unfold from a Pensieve, played in her mind as she answered Molly Weasley's question of his name.
"His name is Rhys, Molly. For my brother," Norah said proudly, with a twinge of melancholia in her voice.
She could not help it that her heart surged with anger and heartbreak at the baby's father. It had been far too broken upon learning of Ollie's death to forgive him. She'd begged him not to go when news came of the siege on Hogwarts.
He'd insisted on going. Norah had followed, much to Ollie's horror and chagrin, but due to the battle in full flow by the time they'd gotten to Hogwarts, couldn't argue with his wife to go back.
Inwardly, she mourned the love of her life, who would now never know his own son, would never watch Rhys grow up.
Ollie wouldn't be by her side when Rhys said his first word, took his first steps, wouldn't be the one to teach him how to ride a broom. He wouldn't be by his son's side as she watched their son open up his acceptance letter to Hogwarts, wouldn't be with her to take Rhys to Diagon Alley to buy his school supplies, wouldn't learn which House the Sorting Hat would put him into.
If he would be a Gryffindor like his mother or a Slytherin like his daddy, or if he'd surprise them both and become a Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw and forge his own path. Ollie would never share in Rhys's life, simply because he had made his choice.
And he hadn't chosen her. Norah realized that, from most in the wizarding community, she would be forced to hide the truth of her son's parentage, especially now that the last select few of the Dark Lord's followers were being rounded up.
It was no secret that Ollie was once upon a time one of Lord Voldemort's best. Even higher than Barty Crouch Jr. by the time Norah had come into his life. When word got out Rhys was Oliver Brennan's son, people would talk in hushed whispers, only able to remember the man's fearsome temper, and how he took after his dad, Jack.
But they didn't know Ollie. Not really. Not like Norah did. They didn't see the side she saw.
But it did not change the fact that she would have to conceal the truth from others. There was, however, still something nestled deep within Norah Brennan's broken heart that could not bear to truly take Ollie away from their child, their son.
The same hardened and hidden part of her heart, now little more than a throbbing mass of corded muscle in her chest, also could not bear to take their baby away from the man who was his father. Norah's voice broke, tears trailing down her face as she announced her child's full name to Tonks and Mrs. Weasley, still waiting for her answer.
"Rhys Oliver Brennan."
Glad Norah had a safe baby and now Remadora are godparents! Coming up, Ollie attempts to sneak into their bedroom to catch a glimpse of Norah and his newborn baby son...with disastrous consequences...