Monday 28 July, 1997:
It now struck Remus as odd that he and Lena had never had a serious conversation about children. Yes, there had been comments made in jest about what they might be like as parents, or how any potential progeny might turn out. But Lena had never once outright said she wanted to be a mother. And the way she had delivered the news to him... well, 'elated' certainly wasn't the word to describe it. Neither was 'upset'. She had just seemed... disconcerted.
'She's so young,' thought Remus, as he sat at his desk in the Auror office, unable to concentrate on his paperwork. 'Only twenty-one.'
'Lily was twenty when she had Harry,' another voice in his head reminded him, 'and although they were surprised, she and James were excited when they found out she was expecting.'
'But Lena isn't Lily,' the first voice argued. 'She's never had the same nurturing instincts Lily's always had, even at school. As long as you've known her, she's been completely disinterested in babies and young children. She's always valued her own space – and that's hard to get when you've got an infant relying on you.'
She hadn't said much after telling him, just that she would try to see a Healer sometime during the week to confirm the pregnancy. Then she had gone back to bed, although Remus was certain she didn't sleep – because neither did he. How could he? His own excitement at the idea that he and Lena could meet their child in less than nine months conflicted with his concern over Lena's reaction. She was shutting off herself to him – like she did with everybody else.
Emotionally unavailable. Remus was supposed to be the exception to that. He had wanted to wrap his arms around her, and ask her to tell him what was going through her mind. But as they had lain next to each other in the darkness, Remus had been sure of two things: Lena did not want to talk, and she did not want to be touched.
"Remus, have you got that file on Selwyn?"
He glanced up. Kingsley Shacklebolt was standing by his desk, his hand outstretched.
"Right." Remus flicked through a pile of folders sitting on his desk, and found the one he was looking for halfway through. "She still getting released on Friday?" he said, handing the file to Kingsley.
Kingsley took the file and opened it, looking at it with a distracted frown. "Hmm? Oh, yes. According to the guards, nothing in her behaviour has warranted extending her sentence."
That would disappoint Lena. Selwyn had been her classmate at Hogwarts, and she had despised the other girl.
Before Remus could be entirely absorbed in thoughts about his wife once more, he glanced at Kingsley again. It seemed to him there was something bothering the other Auror, and it wasn't the file he was reading.
"Are you feeling all right?" asked Remus.
At present, they were the only two Aurors actually in the office, with everyone else either out on assignment, or on leave for their holiday.
"What?" Kingsley looked up from the file. "Oh, I'm fine. I was just thinking about the earthquake."
Remus blinked. "What earthquake?"
"The one in Australia, earlier this morning." Kingsley cocked his head. "You hadn't heard?"
Remus shook his head. "No, I didn't really pay attention to the news this morning. What happened?"
"It hit somewhere near Melbourne. A building collapsed, and there were nine casualties. One was a witch."
That certainly was unusual. When witches and wizards were caught in natural disasters, they could almost always survive it by using their magic – and often save a few nearby Muggles too (erasing their memories afterwards, of course).
Remus scratched his chin, a little confused. "Are earthquakes common in Australia?"
"Not really – especially ones that cause fatalities." Kingsley pulled up a chair and sat down. "And see, that's the thing: the Muggle scientists are saying the science of it doesn't add up."
"Then are the magical authorities investigating?" asked Remus, leaning forward.
"Yes, but they haven't found any evidence of the origin being magical. It's just a complete freak of nature, like that flash flooding in Cardiff in 1980."
Remus remembered the incident. He had seen it being reported on a Muggle television while at a hospital his mother had been taken to when she'd had a health scare. But he hadn't thought about it much at the time, as he had just been glad his mother had made a full recovery.
"It's just a reminder, isn't it?" he mused aloud, turning back to his paperwork. "No matter how much we learn about it, the world's always a stranger place than we think."
Friday 1 August, 1997:
As Remus watched the couples dancing, his heart ached. That could have been him and Lena, smiling at each other and twirling to the band's music. The way Bill and Fleur were looking at each other was all too familiar.
He decided he had stayed long enough for it now to be polite to make his apologies and depart. Not wanting to interrupt the newlyweds as they danced – he had already given them his congratulations earlier that evening – he looked for either Arthur or Molly to let them know he was leaving. Spotting Arthur first, talking to some other redheads that were presumably his relatives, Remus headed towards him.
But before he could reach him, something large and silver came falling through the canopy over the dance floor. Graceful and gleaming, the lynx landed lightly in the middle of the astonished dancers. Heads turned, as those nearest it froze, absurdly, in mid-dance. Then the Patronus' mouth opened wide and it spoke in the loud, deep, slow voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt.
"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."
For a moment, Remus couldn't move. He could barely even think – just, 'Shit. It's happening.' Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione and Harry (still in disguise as the redheaded Muggle boy from the village) jump to their feet and draw their wands. The silver cat vanished, and silence spread outwards in cold ripples from the place where the Patronus had landed. Then somebody screamed.
Pandemonium erupted. Guests were sprinting in all directions; many were Disapparating; the protective enchantments around the Burrow had broken. And figures who were masked and cloaked appeared, pushing their way through the crowd.
Remus saw Harry and Hermione struggling to make their way to Ron. One of the masked figures paused, then raised his wand towards them. Harry might have been using Polyjuice Potion, but clearly this assailant recognised Ron and Hermione.
"Protego!" shouted Remus. His magical shield protected the trio from the curse sent their way, and gave them enough time to Apparate away–
"Sweetheart, dinner's on the table!"
Remus was jolted awake by Lena's voice calling to him from downstairs. He sat up, his breathing a little ragged. It had been just like Sunday night – a dream that felt so real, despite its absurdity.
He looked down at himself, and noticed he was still dressed in his work clothes. The clock on the bedside table read a quarter-past-eight. 'I must have just collapsed from exhaustion when I got home,' he realised.
Remus had just been about to leave work the previous evening when a message came in that a Muggle had been attacked by a wizard. He and Sirius had been put on the case of tracking down the culprit. They'd found him that afternoon – Corban Yaxley, who had a prior arrest for assaulting a Muggle. He'd only returned home an hour ago, and had gone straight up to the bedroom for a shower; only, he mustn't have made it.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, he rested his head in his hands. The dream had strangely felt like a continuation of the one where he had been flying with someone who looked like Harry – but had been called George – and they had been attacked by some people called 'Death Eaters', one of whom was Severus Snape. They had been heading to the Burrow, which was presumably where this wedding had been. Remus had never actually been to the home of the Weasley family; he only knew of it because Harry had stayed there several times. In fact, Remus barely knew any of the Weasleys, other than occasionally crossing paths with Arthur and his son Percy at the Ministry, and meeting Ron a couple of times when the boy was visiting Harry during the holidays. Certainly none of them had ever appeared in his dreams before. And who was Fleur? He felt like he had seen her face before, maybe as a picture in the newspaper...
But it was the way he'd thought about Lena in the dream that really perturbed Remus. There had been such a feeling of loss, and it still lingered within him now.
Perhaps that was simply a manifestation of the fear he'd been feeling this week. A Healer had confirmed Lena's pregnancy on Tuesday, news that had thrilled Remus. But Lena was still acting withdrawn, and Remus' delight had to make way for anxiety.
"Remus?"
He looked up. Lena was standing in the doorway, watching him as she absentmindedly fidgeted with the edge of her cardigan sleeves.
"Sorry, were you sleeping?" she said softly.
Remus stood up, running a hand through his rumpled hair. "Yeah, but it's fine – I'm starving." He walked over to her, pausing a couple of feet away. "It's good to be back. I missed you."
She tilted her head slightly. "You were only away one night."
He moved closer to her. "It felt much longer than that." He leant in slightly, silently asking for permission to kiss her.
After a couple of seconds, Lena stepped forward and stood on her tiptoes to lightly kiss his lips. Remus' hands went to her waist, but she pulled back before they could touch her.
"Come on," she said, stepping back and turning around. "Dinner's getting cold."
Remus suppressed a sigh and followed her. He wouldn't press the issue, but at some point they were going to have to talk about the pregnancy. Things were going to change, one way or another.
Friday 15 August, 1997:
Tom never felt prouder of his daughter than when he read her work. Lena's writing was invigorated by her intellectual curiosity and passion for magic. She was brilliant, and unafraid to show it. One of his greatest pleasures in life was reviewing her work for critique before she submitted it for publication. Sometimes, if it was a short piece, they would sit in his drawing room while he read it. While he was engrossed, her eyes wouldn't leave his face, watching his every minute reaction.
Except today. Tom didn't notice at first, too caught up in her paper, 'The Case for Magical Intervention in Failing Non-magical Ecosystems'. But when he finally looked up to give her his enthusiastic approval, she was vacantly staring at the blank wall, her mug of tea even more untouched than usual.
He frowned, leaning forward in his armchair. "Lena?"
She flinched, turning to him. "Sorry. Have you finished reading?"
Tom nodded, still a little concerned. "Yes, it's very good. But are you feeling all right?"
"Yes, I'm fine," she said, a bit too casually. She untucked her legs from underneath her, and sat up straighter on the sofa. "What about the section where I refute the claim that it couldn't be done without breaking the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy?"
Despite wanting to probe her distraction further, Tom replied, "Well, I think your point about Muggle understanding of science constantly growing and shifting is well-made. And yes, with the rise of seemingly unexplainable small-scale natural disasters over the last few decades, there certainly appears to be a collective growing open-mindedness in Muggle societies about paranormal possibilities–"
"I'm pregnant," Lena blurted out.
Tom stared at her, stunned. Then the pile of papers on his lap started to slide off, forcing him to move and think again. Gathering up the papers, he stuttered, "Y-you are?"
She nodded, her shoulders slightly hunched over as she clasped her hands in her lap.
"Oh." With his head full of too many thoughts to say anything useful, he simply said, "Goodness me."
"You're the first person I've told, apart from Remus, of course," she said, edging forward slightly. "And the Obstetrics Healer, who we've got an appointment with tomorrow morning."
"Then I take it you're... you're not very... far along, then?"
"About six weeks," answered Lena, staring down at her lap. She didn't sound... overjoyed.
"Was this, erm, planned?" asked Tom, awkward and cautious in equal measure. He really didn't want to think about his daughter having sex – not because he still viewed her as a young child, but mostly because he just generally preferred not to think about sex at all. He had tried it a couple of times when he was younger, and hadn't really taken to it. He suspected his aversion to it was at least in part because of the circumstances of his own conception, which his mother had tearfully confessed to him when he had come-of-age.
Still not looking up, Lena shook her head.
"Ah."
Throughout most of his time parenting, Tom had felt reasonably confident finding his own way through it. However, right now he was desperately wishing he had read something where it had explained what to do in this particular situation – something like, 'What To Say When Your Adult Daughter Who Has A Tendency To Internalise Her Emotions Tells You She Is Six Weeks Into An Unplanned Pregnancy And Is Possibly Not Too Happy About It'. Surely someone had written a book about it, or at least a chapter in a book.
Sighing, he stood up and went over to sit next to her on the sofa. "What's the matter, Lena?"
She looked up at him, and this time anxiety was written all over her face. Her voice little more than a whisper, she told him, "I... I want the baby. I do. But... but... ugh!" She dragged her hands down the sides of her face, clearly frustrated.
Tom put his arm around her shoulders. "It's all right," he consoled her. "I might not have carried you inside me for nine months, but I can understand that pregnancy feels... overwhelming."
"Well, yes," said Lena, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "but it's not all the changes and pain I'm worried about. I'll handle that. It's that if everything goes right and this baby is born... I'll be a mother." She pronounced the final word as if there was something inherently objectionable about the idea.
Tom stared at his daughter, confused. "So, you want to have the child," he said hesitantly, "but you don't want to be a mother?"
Lena shrugged off his arm and stood up, agitated. "It's not a question about want," she explained, wringing her hands. "It's about should. What if...if..." She struggled to spit the words out, before rushing, "What if I'm not good enough?"
"You're exceptional at almost everything you do," Tom pointed out, still bemused. "What makes you think this will be any different?"
"Because this isn't just a matter of capability!" cried Lena. "It's about ethics! It's a whole other moral responsibility, and I don't feel remotely qualified to take it on!"
Tom got to his feet and firmly put his hands on her shoulders. "Lena, you are a kind and compassionate young woman. You are a good person. Any child would be lucky to have you as their mother."
She unceremoniously pushed his arms away. "That's bullshit."
"Lena!" Tom chastised her, unused to hearing her speak profanely (although he suspected she was probably freer with her language around her friends and husband).
"Well, it is," his daughter retorted. "Just because I can act nice doesn't mean I should be a mother. I can hide intolerance, but that doesn't mean it's not there. I look down on people all the time, for not being clever enough, or for being weak. A baby is entirely dependent on others. At first, all it's going to do is cry and piss and shit and puke, and I'm supposed to just expect that I'm going to feel some intrinsic bond that will stop me from resenting it for sucking up all my time and energy?"
Tom folded his arms, raising an eyebrow. "You think I didn't feel that? Lena, before you came along, I abhorred the idea of being a father. To me, it seemed like an inane, life-draining pursuit, one I couldn't understand why anyone would embark on, other than as some kind of self-sacrificing obligation to continue our species." His face softened. "Then you quite literally turned up in my life one day. And after two-and-a-half weeks of feeling a mild concern about your future, I stood over your crib at St. Mungo's and looked down at you lying there. You reached your tiny hand up–" he uncrossed his arms and took her reluctant hands in his, "–and grabbed my finger, and I realised that you weren't just some helpless, pathetic creature. You were a very young, very small person who could grow up to be someone wonderful, and it would be my privilege to be part of your life." He squeezed her hands. "And I was right."
Lena stared at him for a long time, her expression unreadable. Then, she did something Tom had never seen her do before – she burst into tears.
"Oh, good lord," muttered Tom, but instinctively hugged her.
Lena, her face buried in the crook of his neck, sobbed, "I'm sorry."
"Whatever for?" asked Tom, genuinely at a loss. She didn't respond, just crying louder, and it occurred to him, 'This is what they must mean about pregnancy making women hormonal.' So he shook his head – not in exasperation, but with a patient fondness – and gently patted her back. "It's all right," he murmured. "You're going to be all right."
After a minute, her weeping subsided and she drew back from him, wiping her face. "Sorry," she mumbled, looking embarrassed.
"Don't be," Tom told her, smiling. "I can finally tick 'comforting my crying child' off the essential parenting experiences list – long after I thought the chance had passed." He became more serious. "But tell me – have you spoken to Remus about your, erm, concerns yet?"
She shook her head, looking slightly pained. "You should have seen his eyes when I told him, Dad," she whispered, sounding miserable. "They just lit up, like it was the best news he'd ever gotten. I could tell he wanted to tell me how happy he was, but..." Her lips formed a tiny smile. "He knows me too well. So he didn't make a big deal out of it. And we've barely spoken about it since, although I know he wants to." Her voice dropped to an almost inaudible level. "But I'm just too scared."
"He loves you, Lena," said Tom gently. "I don't know if I've ever seen a man more in love – which is the only reason I let him marry you."
Her voice returned to its normal volume. "Let him?" she repeated indignantly. "We didn't need your permission, thank you very much!"
"Oh, you think so?"
She put her hands on her hips. "Shall I describe to you," she said malevolently, "in great, illustrative detail, the event that resulted in me becoming pregnant?"
Tom recoiled. Lena was fully aware of his distaste for discussions of a sexual nature – especially if they involved her. "Have you no shame?" he muttered under his breath, as he turned away and went back to his armchair. "In any case," he added more loudly, picking up her essay from the seat of the chair, "you already know you're going to have to discuss this with your husband eventually, and you also know that the longer you put it off, the harder it's going to be." He sat down. "So, don't be a fool, and just get it over and done with."
Lena slumped back into the sofa. "Fine," she grumbled mutinously. "Thanks for the sympathy."
"You've never looked for sympathy before, my dear," said Tom frankly. "And if you were going to break the habit of a lifetime, you'd be clever enough not to go looking for it from me. What you wanted from me is the same thing you want from bringing me these to read." He held up the essay. "Affirmation of what you've already decided to do."
It took Remus a couple of tries to fit his house-key into the lock, his mind clouded by alcohol. It had been Rufus Scrimgeour's final day as an Auror, and the usually humourless man had acquiesced to celebrate his retirement with drinks at the Leaky Cauldron for the rest of the department. Remus hadn't been intending to drink much, as he and Lena had an appointment with the Healer tomorrow morning, but his frustration with his wife's emotional distance over the last couple of weeks had caused him to over-indulge. Consequentially, he hadn't been in a fit state to Apparate, and as they hadn't installed the Floo Network when they'd moved into their house last December, he'd had to take the tube home (fortunately, over the years he'd developed the habit of always carrying around a little Muggle money with him). But this meant he was home nearly an hour later than Lena had been expecting him.
Remus closed the front door behind him and dropped his keys on the table by the entrance. A little unsteady, he walked through to the living room – where Lena was waiting for him, sitting on the couch with a book open on her lap.
"It's nearly eleven," she said quietly. "You said you'd be home at ten."
He stopped, standing on the opposite side of the living room to her. "Sorry, I lost track of the time." His speech was slurred.
Lena's eyes narrowed slightly. "Are you drunk?" she asked coldly, making Remus' stomach drop.
Lena never got drunk. To her, wilfully losing one's inhibitions and impairing cognitive functioning was tantamount to idiocy. And Lena, as much as she usually tried to hide it, loathed idiocy.
He started to move forward. "I'm sorry, baby, I didn't mean–"
"Baby?"
Remus winced. 'You stupid man,' he berated himself. 'Baby' was the one thing he wasn't allowed to call Lena. She had made that very clear the first time he'd tried it out. His head was just so damned hazy. He took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind. "I drank more than I should have," he said slowly, trying to pronounce each word properly, "and I'm sorry."
She didn't look mollified. "We've got an appointment with the Healer at nine a.m. tomorrow–"
"I know."
"–and if you've got a hangover, that's going to be just a fantastic first impression–"
"Oh, so it does actually matter," muttered Remus, touching his forehead. He was starting to feel unwell.
"What's that supposed to mean?" snapped Lena, throwing her book to the side and standing up.
Somewhere inside Remus, there was a jolt of panic. He and Lena had never had a proper fight before, but that was clearly the direction this was heading. However, his alcohol-addled mind didn't get the message, loosening his tongue even further. "You want to talk about impressions? Okay. My impression of you is that you seem to think being pregnant is some kind of, of... mild inconvenience." He jerkily waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Something vaguely unpleasant you'd prefer not to be mentioned. So I'm sorry that the first time you want to take it seriously is the one time I do something so unforgivable as have a drink!" He didn't shout, but his voice was louder than usual.
Lena, meanwhile, had gone rigid. At first she didn't reply, just staring at him. Then she clenched her fists and hissed, "I haven't wanted to talk about it because I've been scared, you dick. Because while you've been getting offended about me wanting some space and time to process this enormous, life-changing news, and not wanting to fuck you–"
"You think that's my problem?" interjected Remus, outraged. "That I'd resent you for, for denying me sex? Are you serious? Is your opinion of me that low?"
"You just accused me of not caring that I was pregnant!" cried Lena. "How could you think that – that I wouldn't care I had an actual human being growing inside me?"
Now, Remus was yelling. "Because you wouldn't say anything! You wouldn't talk to me! For the first time, you cut me off! And what is the bloody point of being your husband if you treat me like a stranger? Why am I here if you don't want someone to support you? Fuck, do you even love me?"
He didn't know where that last idea had come from – it wasn't a thought that had ever crossed his mind before. But if his head had been a little clearer, Remus would have realised he was terrified. Because his greatest fear, something that had been implanted in his mind from the moment he'd first met Lena, was finally surfacing.
Remus was scared that none of it was real – that the woman he loved with every fibre of his being was just a character Lena played. She was his fantasy – intelligent, witty, both passionate and controlled. She could make him feel like the most important person in the world. She could solve almost any problem he had – even the loathing of the wolf inside him, that he had felt ever since he was a young boy. But she was too good to be true. And he had seen with his own eyes how well she could lie, making people she despised think that she liked them, manipulating them as easily as pulling the strings on a puppet.
At that moment, however, Remus could not achieve this clarity of understanding his own emotions. Even unaffected by alcohol, he wouldn't have had the time, because Lena reacted to his words as though he had slapped her across the face. She let out a tiny whimper, and fled the room, running upstairs.
For a few seconds, Remus stared blankly at the last spot where he'd seen her. Then guilt, disgust and dread filled him. 'Shit,' he thought, and hurried after her as quickly as he could stumble along. 'Shit, shit, shit.'
He found her in their bedroom, curled up on the bed, facing away from his side. She wasn't crying, but she was trembling. Remus quickly tugged off his coat and shoes, and clambered onto the bed. "Lena?" he whispered, edging towards her.
It took a while for Lena to respond, saying in a tiny voice, "I hate myself."
Remus felt like she had stabbed him in the heart. "No," he said desperately, lying down right behind her and draping an arm over her, "no, please don't say that. I love you, I love you so much."
Lena didn't reply; she just kept shivering. So Remus continued to murmur to her lovingly, to gently caress her arm, her hair, her cheek. He called her every term of endearment – darling, sweetheart, precious, my love. He described every reason he adored her. He told her he would rather die than ever hurt her. And he truly meant every word.
At last, she stopped shaking and turned around to face him. She entwined her limbs with his, and drifted off to sleep. Within a few minutes, Remus had followed her, and the bedroom was silent and still, except for their breathing, and the beating of their hearts.
All three of them.
Sunday 28 September, 1997:
"That's the sandwiches, the fruit platter, the cheese and crackers, the scones, jam and cream, and the lemon cake," listed Lena, inspecting the food-laden table. "Is that everything? Do we need any more?"
"It'll be fine," replied Remus distractedly.
There was a short pause, before Lena told him, "You're doing it again."
Remus hastily lifted his gaze to meet hers. "Sorry," he said guiltily, "I'm just not used to..."
Lena raised an eyebrow. "The cleavage?"
At twelve weeks pregnant, the changes in Lena's body were becoming marked – not just her small baby bump, but the rest of the weight gain around her usually slender body. In particular, Remus was finding it difficult not to stare at the swelling of her previously tiny breasts, which was even more noticeable today because of the low-cut blouse she was wearing.
After another appointment with the Healer the previous morning, they had finally told Remus' mother that Lena was expecting. Hope, upon hearing the news, had burst into tears of joy and hugged Lena for a full minute. And today, during the first Sunday lunch since the new school year had started, Remus and Lena were going to announce their news to Sirius, James and Lily.
Remus attempted to justify his ogling. "It's not that I didn't love your body before–"
Lena laughed softly. "It's okay, Remus," she said, her arms snaking up around his neck, her belly lightly pressed against his abdomen. "You're allowed to look at me."
He slid his hands down her sides and around to her buttocks, which were now padded enough that she could sit on his lap without the bones digging into his thighs. "And am I allowed to touch?" he murmured.
She smirked. "Oh, that is highly encouraged."
In response, Remus enthusiastically groped her bottom and kissed her. Ever since their fight, Lena had been taking every opportunity for physical contact with him, and he loved it – partly out of a selfish desire to satisfy his own urges, but also because it meant she felt fully comfortable around him again. They had discussed all her anxieties about motherhood, and with Remus' reassurances, she was happier, even excited about the baby. Now, the initial reluctance and fight were all but forgotten. He couldn't believe he had accused her of not loving him – of course she did. He was the luckiest man alive.
Their moment of ardour was interrupted by a knock at the front door, signalling the arrival of their friends. Soon, they were all seated around the table, talking, laughing and eating. At first, they mainly discussed Hogwarts, as Lily told them about the change of atmosphere, now that Dumbledore was gone. Minerva McGonagall had taken over as headmistress, with Pomona Sprout filling her position as deputy headmistress, and Lily had become Head of Gryffindor.
The topic of conversation eventually moved to the worrying and strange increase of minor natural disasters that had been occurring over the last two months. The earthquake in Australia had been followed by a forest fire in Canada, a landslide in Japan, and a few other unexplained incidents.
Finally, just before they started on the lemon cake, Remus and Lena exchanged a look and a nod.
"So," began Remus, "Lena and I actually have some big news to share with you." He smiled at his wife. "Very exciting news."
"Is it that you're going to have a baby?" asked Sirius mildly.
Remus gaped at him, astonished. "How did you know?"
Sirius snorted. "Come on, mate. We're Aurors – at least half of our job is looking for clues and deducing conclusions from them. Lena's usually thin enough that you can tell when she's had a large lunch, so of course we were going to notice she's grown." He winked at her. "Nice tits, by the way."
Lena snorted, while Remus indignantly cried, "Oi!"
"Oh, don't tell him off," entreated Lena, resting a hand on his. "No one's ever lewdly complimented me on them before, and it feels like I've been missing an essential part of the female experience." She smiled sweetly at Sirius. "But if you do it again, I'll turn your intestines into worms. Trust me, I know the spell that'll do it."
"Well, I hadn't noticed anything," announced James, sneaking a glance at Lily for her approval.
Lily shrugged. "I had," she said shamelessly, then smiled warmly. She reached across the table to take both Lena and Remus' hands. "Congratulations, I'm so happy for both of you!"
James nodded in agreement, also grinning. "You two are going to make great parents."
"Even if your kid will probably turn out to be a maddening know-it-all," added Sirius, but still beamed as he raised his glass of pumpkin juice. "To Remus, Lena and the baby Lupin – or should I call it a cub?"
Remus shook his head. "Moony just thinks of it as 'the Little One'," he explained.
"Oh, that's adorable!" exclaimed Lily, also raising her glass.
"Right, to Remus, Lena and their little one," proclaimed James, and they all joined in on the toast. "And to love and family!"
"To love and family!"
The following weeks provided Remus with a balance of contentment and disconcertedness. All was well between him and Lena, and work was reasonably quiet. But at least once a fortnight there would be news of a freak natural disaster somewhere in the world, taking a few lives each time. And Remus continued to have strange dreams, that all seemed to take place in a world where wizards were at war, and everyone he knew was different in some way – and Lena was nothing more than a lingering heartache in his dream-self. Lord Voldemort, Death Eaters, the Order of the Phoenix – all these nonsensical words and phrases were implicitly understood while he was sleeping, leaving Remus confused when he woke up, and kept that niggling sense of wrongness at the back of his mind.
He was thinking about one of these dreams – where he had been talking to Kingsley and Sirius' cousin Nymphadora Tonks (who he had only met a few times in real life) about planning some sort of counterattack on these 'Death Eaters' – on a Saturday morning in the middle of November when Lena, who was in her study, suddenly shouted out for him. Brought back to reality, Remus rushed out of their bedroom, panicking. Had something gone wrong with the baby? The Healer had said everything was going well at their last appointment...
Remus burst into Lena's study, breathless. "What's wrong? Are you all right? Is everything okay?"
She was standing by her desk, clutching her belly with a wonderstruck expression.
"I felt the baby move, Remus," she breathed. "Like a little nudge in my stomach."
His worried expression immediately transformed into a delighted grin. "Really?" He came over to her and put his hand on her stomach too. Just as he was wondering whether the baby had decided it'd had enough movement for the day, he felt it too – a miniscule twitch that would have been easy to miss if he hadn't been paying attention. "Oh," he whispered, staring down at the belly. "Hello."
"This is really happening," murmured Lena. "There's a child inside me. My child." She shook her head a little, as if struggling to believe it. "We created a new life – without even meaning to."
Remus stroked her cheek. "The happiest of accidents."
Lena smiled, and to Remus, she seemed to be glowing. "Yes," she said. "A beautiful surprise."
Sixteen Weeks Earlier:
This hadn't been part of the plan. The new world was already precariously balanced. Her own existence was a paradox she had written into the fabric of reality. Bringing a new life into it – an impossible child – could upset everything.
Erasing Rodolphus Lestrange and Bellatrix Black so they had never been born had seemed like the ultimate autonomy. She had truly become a god: the Creator of her own life. No one had ever been so powerful. Her hand guided the world. But right now, that almighty hand rested upon her abdomen, only flesh and blood separating it from the embryo that would grow into her child.
She stared at herself in the bathroom mirror of the en suite. Among all that power was still a human. A woman. A mother.
'Only if I don't stop it now,' she thought. She knew she was capable of it. The question was if she wanted to.
Before everything had changed, she'd stopped thinking about motherhood because it had become an impossibility – a choice that was out of her hands. She had accepted it, and removed all desires, uncertainties and fears from her mind. She had been so devoid of the concept that when the Nekrosía had presented her with limitless possibilities, she hadn't even considered it. She hadn't repaired the damage done to her reproductive system. At least, not consciously – it must have happened as she had changed reality. So the first time she and Remus had sex after that, they had conceived – because the instinct to use contraception had not been there. And it had set her on a path she hadn't planned on taking.
One part of her knew the responsible thing would be to end that journey now. She could feel it in her bones – reality was protesting the creation of a life from her, the literal heart of the world, and an ordinary man. 'This is Wrong,' the air seemed to whisper. 'Your existence defies Nature; how can you expect us to tolerate more?'
Because I want this child. The certainty of the thought surprised her. Mere seconds ago it had felt like an impossible decision. But the idea of the child, a product of her and Remus' love, being taken away from her, flicked a switch in her mind. This tiny life form, not yet even a foetus, was hers. And she was damned if she was going to let something as conquerable as reality tell her what to do with it.
The air's voice became harsher. 'If you do this,' it told her, 'there will a Reckoning.'
"No," she whispered. "I will make it work. You will do what I tell you. You do not control me – I control you."
All of a sudden, there was a quiet knock on the bathroom door, followed by Remus' gentle but concerned voice asking, "Lena, are you all right?"
She exhaled. It was time to relinquish control to the other Lena, the one she had separated from the rest of her mind so she would be unburdened by all the heartache, pain and inhuman knowledge that she possessed. The one who believed she was an extraordinary but otherwise normal young woman. The one who could truly be happy.
Well, she could be if she tried a little harder.
She just needed to leave an implicit message for her when she regained consciousness in a few seconds. That Lena was pregnant, and she wanted this baby.
Because she was the Creator. And she brought forth life.
As you might be able to tell from the chapter title, I listened to Tori Amos' early albums a lot while writing this.
So, yeah - Lena was all over the place throughout this chapter, and we're going to explore that more in the next. But I am very curious to learn how it read without knowing exactly what was going on, so I'd love to hear your thoughts and questions :)
A big thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, your words and interest are very much appreciated. And welcome to everyone who's only recently joined the story (and a special congratulations if you read it all in the last couple of weeks, because To Be Human is now longer than Half-Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows combined!).
Thank you again for reading, and until next time, cheers :)