O
HESTIA
Family
July
Hope sat motionless, staring down at the white, tiled floor. She hadn't gone through with it. She had chickened out.
You'll have to do it eventually.
I know. I know I will. Leave me alone.
"Hope?"
Startled, Hope looked up, then felt the blood drain from her face. Hestia Jones was looking down at her, forehead knotted in concern.
"I thought that was you! Are you alright?"
No.
She managed to nod.
"Are you sure? I'm here if you fancy a chat. I'm only in for research, I haven't got any patients today."
Still silent, Hope shook her head.
Hestia hesitated. "If – if you change your mind, I'm in my office, down the hall. My name's on the door. Come and give me a knock."
Hope sat there for another long while, and then made towards the offices. She needed direction, and Hestia's office was as close to direction as she had right now.
Hestia made a friendly gesture to show that Hope should take a seat in front of her and Hope sat down, hands twisted in her lap, avoiding her gaze. She had always been intimidated by Hestia, with her deep voice and her no nonsense ways, despite knowing that her parents considered her to be family.
"Are you here alone?"
Another nod.
"I don't mean to pry, love, but if you're ill…. or if you have a problem… I'm happy to talk. I'll help if I can."
She must know what the problem was, Hope thought. Seventeen-year-olds didn't turn up in this particular area of St Mungo's for a fun day out.
"I'm not ill," Hope managed. "I-"
She would have to say it out loud. Maybe telling Hestia would make it easier to do what must now be done.
"I'm pregnant."
Pregnant. The word caused an odd ringing in her ears as she heard it for the first time. She wasn't even eighteen yet, had left school less than three weeks ago. How many hours had she and Dom spent up in their common room back in her fourth year, discussing how idiotic Roxanne was being, despite their frequent warnings? And when Kirsten Carmichael had fallen pregnant in the summer after their graduation, Roxanne, on hearing the news, had admitted that her friends had been right, and she herself had been lucky. Reckless and irresponsible. But lucky.
Hope had not been so lucky. And now Hestia, one of her parents' oldest friends, would know how irresponsible, how idiotic, how hopeless she was too.
Hestia did not flinch. "I see," she said. "Did you find out today?"
Hope shook her head. Then, out of nowhere, the rush of tears came. The damp on her cheeks was so alien she had to touch them to check they were real.
Hestia handed Hope a box of tissues and she took a handful of them, hands trembling.
"I've known for a week," she said, trying to steady them. "I was supposed to come today to - to get rid of it, but I- I backed out. I got scared."
"Do your parents know you're here?"
Her tone of voice told Hope that she already guessed the answer.
"I wasn't going to tell them." Hope tried desperately to wipe the tears away. They kept falling. "They'd be so disappointed in me. I've already let them down so many times. What with my OWL results after fifth year, and my NEWTs came this morning and they're even worse… they don't even know about that yet. But they'll know I could have done better if I'd worked harder. And they hated it when I was going out with Cadmus, even though they tried to hide it, so I argued with them for months. Made a big deal over every tiny thing. They were right all along - he wasn't even nice to me. He was horrible to me. And we broke up anyway and I've been screwing up more and more. I can't do anything right. Ever. And now I've made the biggest mess of all and I don't know what to do."
She couldn't quite believe she was spilling all this now, here. After all the chances she had been given recently to talk to her friends and family. How many people had asked after her, kindly and gently, only to have her force a smile and assure them that she was absolutely fine? Instead, she had chosen to pour out her heart to Hestia, who probably had far more important worries right now. Yet her presence was soothing, and the words continued to tumble forth.
"Is Cadmus the father?" Hestia asked delicately, when Hope finally drew breath.
Hope shook her head.
"I don't know if that makes it better or worse. But he can't be. We broke up two months ago and we didn't - we never even... But - but I haven't exactly been sensible since then." She flushed a deep red that not even a morph could hide. "I don't know who," she admitted. "There were a few - times - recently. It could be any of them."
She chanced a glance at Hestia again, expecting to see shock and disapproval, but all she could find in her expression was concern.
"There are ways to find out. But Hope, I think you should talk to your parents before you do anything else. I think you should let them in. Let them help you with this."
"What help can they give though?" Hope protested. "I don't even have a decision to make. I can't have a child now. I know I can't, even if I knew who the father was. That's why I came here today. Don't you -" she looked up at the other woman imploringly. "Don't you agree that's what I should do?"
"That can only be your choice," Hestia said at once. "There are many considerations to take into account - financial, emotional, physical considerations. Personally, I could never have had a baby at your age, but the circumstances are different for everyone, and no one else can make this decision for you. However," she graced Hope with her deep, piercing look. "That doesn't mean others can't help you. And - I'll say it again - I feel your parents are the best people to talk to."
Hope couldn't tell her parents. It was not an option. She had to do this on her own. Then again, Hestia was her parents' friend. It was possible that she would tell them regardless.
"If I don't tell them, are you going to?" she mumbled, starting back down at the desk. Hestia was outwardly shocked by the question.
"It's your life, Hope," she said gently. "It's not my place to tell them, and I don't have an obligation to do so. You are of age. You could go through with the procedure right now, as long as you signed the right forms. But this is about far more serious issues than paperwork, and from what I've just heard, you need to tell your parents, and tell them everything, before you do anything else."
"How can I?" Distress mounted again, distorting her voice, constricting her breath. "How can I tell them that I'm thinking of getting rid of a child, a baby, when they struggled so much to have me in the first place? Mum lost three babies. I've heard what happened. I know what - what Bellatrix did and how you helped her, and that's why I'm here at all. They went through years of sadness and pain. I can't tell them their own daughter is pregnant when she doesn't even want to be - I can't. How would that make them feel?"
She couldn't imagine the looks that might appear on their faces at the news, worse, surely, than any exam results or misbehaviour could bring about. Hestia was still there with her straightforward words and her calming voice.
"My love, you're looking at this the wrong way. How do you think your mother and father would feel to know that the child they do have, the child they desperately wanted, the daughter they love, unconditionally, was suffering alone, that she was carrying a terrible burden and felt unable to confide in them or ask for their advice?"
The tears continued to fall. "I've messed up so badly," Hope murmured. "They'd be so upset with me. So disappointed."
"You think a parent's love can be eroded by our mistakes? Even those we feel to be our biggest?"
Hope said nothing to this.
"I was there the day you were born," Hestia continued. "I have seen you grow up. And I have spoken to your parents about you and Teddy more times than I can count. They love you. Anyone can see that and nothing will ever change it."
Hope was not to be convinced. Telling her parents was not an option. It couldn't be.
"I can't," she whispered. "I just can't. I can't let them down anymore."
The tissues were saturated in her hands, but Hope made no attempt to stem the flow of tears now. What was the point?
"Hope, can I show you something?" Hestia said, after a long, troubled silence. "Something that might help." She stood up and took a device from behind her and Hope raised her head, curiosity drying some of the tears.
"What's that?"
"A pensieve," Hestia replied, placing it on the desk. "All the wards have them for diagnostic purposes. I'm not supposed to use it for personal means, but under the circumstances I think I can bend the rules a little."
She put her wand to her temple and pulled a very small, silvery strand from it, then let it drift down into basin. Hope made to stand up to look into it, but Hestia indicated there was no need, and with a further flick of the wand, the memory was projected into the air.
Hope recognised Teddy, seven years old, his blue hair flopping into his eyes, tugging impatiently on their father's hand as the two of them followed Hestia towards a room off a main corridor.
"Come on, Dad." Teddy's voice floated out of the memory. "Hurry up. I want to meet her."
Remus obediently quickened his pace and the view of the memory shifted as they reached the room. Tonks was sitting in a chair by the window, a bundle of white blankets in her arms. Her face was pale and she looked exhausted, but there was an energy about her nonetheless as she stood up gingerly and came towards her husband and son. Hope couldn't take her eyes off the tiny baby in her arms, the baby that was... herself. She could not be more than a day old but there was a tuft of red hair making its appearance already, and her blue eyes were wide, scanning the room, silently absorbing the goings on.
Hestia took her place discreetly in the corner behind the door as Teddy and Remus came forward, Remus resting his forehead against his wife's as they stood in the middle of the room, both of them looking down at the baby.
"Mum! Mum, I want to see!" Teddy tugged at her sleeve, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Mum, I can't see and I'm the one who hasn't met her yet."
"Alright! Alright! Here, you can see. But you must be very gentle, remember."
Tonks lowered the baby to his eye level, and, stunned into awed silence, Teddy stroked her tiny, colourful head with one of his fingers.
"Hello Hope," he said. "My little sister."
Tonks offered the baby to Remus for him to hold, and he took his daughter into his own arms, holding her tightly as Tonks sank down onto the edge of the bed, visibly exhausted after the few steps across the room.
Remus had not moved. His eyes were sparkling with unshed tears. After what might have been seconds, or minutes, maybe hours - Hope wasn't sure - he came and sat down on the bed as well, still holding his new born child. Teddy, satisfied now that he had met his baby sister, grinned from ear to ear and gave his mother a hug. She pulled him close and Hope caught the words as he mumbled them into her shoulder.
"I'm so happy, Mum."
Hope could barely breath as she watched the four of them. Her family. And Hestia was right. There was no denying it. It didn't matter that what she was watching was a child's age in the past, nor what had happened during those seventeen years. The love she could feel emanating through the memory was so obvious, so blinding…
Unconditional.
"Hope?"
She tore her gaze from it at last. Her own cheeks were damp again, yet she had been unaware of the tears reforming.
"Do you understand what I'm trying to say?" Hestia asked, offering her another tissue as she wiped them away. "Why I needed to show you?"
She did.
"Yes," Hope whispered. "Yes, I think I-"
The words died in her throat. She stared up as the memory played in a loop again, suddenly alert. Something tugged in the deepest, darkest recesses of her brain. There was a.. familiarity about what she was watching. Her mother holding her as a new born baby, showing her to Teddy. Teddy standing on tiptoe to see. She had seen it before. She was sure she had seen it before.
"Is - Is there photo of that somewhere?" she asked, wrenching her gaze from it. "Of that moment?"
"I'm afraid not," Hestia said. "Cameras aren't allowed on the wards. But if you need to see it again, even after today, I'm more than happy to show you-"
"No, no, that's not what I meant. I - I have seen it. Before. I'm know I have. I definitely have. That bit just now, with Teddy standing on tiptoe and Mum showing me to him."
Hestia appeared politely bemused.
"I'm not sure how that could be the case. There is evidence to show that our subconscious memories transcend our conscious ones, but being able to retrieve them from our day of birth is highly improbable. I've never shown this memory to anyone else."
Hope continued to watch, transfixed, as it played out one more time. Teddy, tugging at Mum's sleeve. She, a red-haired, blue-eyed baby, being lowered down to his eye level.
It must be a fake memory. A déjà vu. She had experienced them before. Then something else caught her attention. Something she hadn't noticed originally because she had been so caught up watching her family. A blur of bright hair by the open door. A woman walking away and out of sight. A woman who looked remarkably like-
The boggart.
She had it in a flash of clarity. The form of the boggart, way back in her third year of school. A boggart she had not been able to tackle properly, which had ended up morphing into the image of her own family. A husband and wife looking down at their new-born child. A little boy, his face shining with anticipation, standing on tiptoe to see. And a woman with red gold curls - Hope's teacher - watching on with a frozen, anguished expression on her face.
It couldn't be a coincidence. Could it? The two images were so bizarrely similar. Or was her memory distorting what had happened then to fit with what she was seeing now? Hope tried to get her thoughts together, trying to work out why seeing her as a new born baby would have made a difference to Edgecombe, why she might have been there at all, but the jigsaw would not slot into place.
"Hestia," she blurted out before she could stop herself. "Do you - did you ever know someone called Marietta Edgecombe?"
Hestia's jaw dropped. Hope registered that, having heard a torrent of information about her unprotected sex, failed exams and unwanted pregnancy, it was odd that one simple name should jolt her composure.
"Marietta Edgecombe?" she repeated. "Um.. She was-" she appeared thoroughly bemused. "Why do you ask?"
"She was there, wasn't she?" Hope gestured to the memory. "There – look - the person turning away with the red hair."
Hestia turned her attention to it, startled. Hope knew that pensieves had the ability to preserve recollections that went beyond the person's personal memory capacity. Hestia clearly did not remember Edgecombe being there at the time.
"It must be her. Maybe that's why - why…" But Hope still could not make sense of it. "How come she was she in the hospital?"
Confused and distressed, Hestia removed the memory so that she could see clearly over the desk. "I can't tell you that, Hope. It's confidential."
"Oh yeah," Hope muttered. "Stupid. Sorry, I'm so, so stupid. I always say the wrong thing. I-"
"Of course you're not stupid," Hestia said calmly. "Far from it. I certainly didn't mean to imply that you were."
But Hope's mind was swirling. "Sorry," she said again, her face in her hands. "I don't know what's happening, why I'm like this… But I'm so confused, and nothing makes sense anymore. I thought maybe that's why Edgecombe always... but then, I don't really understand what's real and what's not. Maybe I'm remembering wrong... And I feel -" she was truly frightened now, completely out of control, and then came the worst part - the sensation of being outside her own body, as if she was no longer sitting in the chair in front of Hestia. "I feel so far away."
Nothing she did this time was making it stop, enveloped in panic as she was. And she still blamed her disastrous previous relationship for it. She may not have been happy before Cadmus but at least she had felt sane.
Hestia got up at once and retrieved a vile of potion out of a cupboard behind her.
"Drink this," she said, pressing it into Hope's hand. "Try to breath deeply. I know it's frightening but you're not in any physical danger, I promise."
"What is it?" Hope held the potion up in front of her. The sensation was ebbing away now. She could feel the cool glass of the vial against her fingers.
"A simple calming draught. You are having a panic attack."
Hope gulped it down obediently. It did have an almost immediate effect.
"Right." Hestia sat down again and eyed her seriously over the desk as her breathing steadied. "Hope, please listen to me. First of all, I am going to try and answer your question. Against my better judgment, I have to say, but I can see that for whatever reason it means a lot to you, and I can justify it because it concerns you to an extent. However -"
"I won't tell anyone," Hope said dutifully, and Hestia flashed her a ghost of a smile. "That is appreciated, but not what I was going to say."
"Oh."
"What I was going to say is that... You are not well at the moment, and from what you have told me you haven't been for some time. Your focus going forward needs to be on yourself. Not on what others think of you. Not on those who are upsetting you or confusing you. On yourself. On doing what is best for you and how you can take steps to recover."
Both tone and expression were devoid of judgment or pressure. Hope nodded. She knew the potion was still doing its job. Tranquility was seeping through every vein, every muscle. And she wanted to know about Edgecombe. She had to know.
Eventually Hestia spoke again.
"To answer your question," she sighed. "Or at least - to give you information that I hope will provide clarity. There is a phenomenon known as pseudocyesis, that we more commonly call a phantom pregnancy. A phantom pregnancy is where the body creates all the usual signs and symptoms of pregnancy but falsely. It is rare, and rarer still for it to endure a full term. But it does happen, sometimes, particularly when the individual's MDI is high enough to exacerbate the symptoms for nine months or more."
Hope understood this to have happened with Edgecombe, even though Hestia had not mentioned her name.
"So there was no baby?" Even with the potion at work, Hope felt stirrings of nausea. "Didn't - can't healers tell that from scans?"
"Some mothers never have scans," Hestia said. "Many choose not to have any medical appointments at all. That is not uncommon, and was even less so around the time you were born, particular if it appeared to be a healthy pregnancy. And pseudocyesis may not leave reason to believe anything is amiss. It can mimic everything, from a positive potion to morning sickness, from weight gain to full on movement in the abdomen. But it can't create a child when there wasn't one there in the first place."
Hope's hands were curling into fists. She tried desperately to hold onto the feeling of calm that the potion had brought about but it was too hard. Another tragedy. Different from her mother's own devastating experiences yet surely an equal sense of loss for the person involved. And here she was with a pregnancy she didn't even want. Because she had been stupid. Careless. Hopeless.
Hestia seemed reluctant to keep speaking.
"Hope, I don't think I should continue. I really feel-"
"No. Please." Hope raised her head, taking as deep a breath as she possibly could. "Please tell me. You said it concerns me. Why would it concern me? Because Edgecombe saw me as a baby? Was it - was it the same day she found out?"
Judging by the fallen set to Hestia's mouth, there was more to it than that.
"I think it's best I show you this as well. I don't think words could do it justice."
She pulled the basin towards her again.
"I should first say that this was a time when babies did not stay on the wards with their mothers overnight," she explained, as the memory floated down into the pensieve. "Now, it is common practice within St Mungo's, but until recently new born babies would sleep in the nursery. It was believed to be healthier for both mother and child."
Hope nodded silently.
"And your mother stayed in hospital for a number of days," Hestia continued. "Given previous complications we felt it was best to be cautious and run a few tests before discharging her. I took responsibility for the overnight shifts when she was in - I confess I was unwilling to leave anyone else in charge. Your family mean a great deal to me, you see."
She gave Hope a warm smile, which Hope did her best to return, and then indicated the memory that was rising from the pensieve before them.
Hope saw a younger, paler Professor Edgecombe, hair lank, dark circles under her eyes. She was standing over a crib in the nursery, watching. Baby Hope Lupin slept soundly in the swathes of blankets, her hair oscillating between bright red and ginger. The scene changed. This time Marietta had held out a hand. Hope noticed that she was awake this time, her own tiny fingers curled around the woman's thumb. Marietta again, stroking her dark brown hair, smiling down at her. Holding her on her lap, an expression of wonder on her face as the hair went vivid pink. Then, clutching her to her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks. The vision shifted one final time. The crib in front of the woman was empty.
Hope didn't speak for a long while, watching it again, more tears forming.
"Is that the night after we went home?" she said at last, wiping them away.
"Yes," Hestia said. "I hope you understand why I didn't intervene, before then. Maybe I should have done for her own sake, but there were no malicious intentions here. All she was seeking was comfort, some minuscule relief from the pain she was in herself, and she appeared to find it with you. If turning a blind eye brought her a tiny piece of solace, then I was prepared to do it. I will never know if I did the right thing, but of course I would have stepped in if I'd thought for a moment you were in danger."
"And Mum never knew? Or Dad?"
"No. I saw no reason to put the poor woman through more trauma, or to cause your parents unnecessary worry. She left the hospital the morning after you and your mother did. I tried to reach out to her in the months that followed but she never responded, and I haven't seen her since."
Hope sat back, trying to process. So Marietta had been with her when she had been days old, held her, cried over her, mourned her own terrible sense of loss. Here it was, after all these years, the piece of the puzzle she had never been able to place. And now she had the information, it wasn't a deep, dark, convoluted secret. Nothing to do with love or hatred towards her own parents. Nor had it been all in Hope's imagination. As a tiny baby, she had simply played an almost unnoticed role in someone else's personal tragedy.
"I… understand she was your teacher until you left school last month?" Hestia added.
"Yes. And my Head of House. I always thought she had some kind of problem with me. But I never imagined it could be... this."
"It must have been strange for her," Hestia said. "Seeing you after all those years, watching you grow up, having had an unusual and painful experience with you as a baby."
Hope recalled the odd, awkward relationship, one that at times had bordered on outright hatred. The moment of recognition as her teacher passed over a familiar name on a register. The frozen stare as she looked into the face of her bright-eyed, red-haired pupil for the first time.
"You do look a bit like her."
"Life isn't always fair."
"You're not my mother."
Was Hope a living, laughing reminder of what the woman could have had? What she had thought she was going to have? Had she found the past five years strange and uncomfortable, never able to hate Hope, never able to stop resenting her? Had she been relieved when Hope had finally left Hogwarts? Sad? Angry?
Hope supposed she would never know for certain. She remembered Hermione saying that Marietta had been with an evil man called William Bulstrode. A man who had planned the events of The Surge before losing his life in the final showdown. Should he have been the father? It was likely. The final surge had been mere months after her own birth.
"Did you meet the father?"
Hestia looked ever more uncomfortable at the blunt question.
"It's my last question, I promise."
"Once," she said. "He was at the initial consultation where I had to break the devastating news. But not after."
Hope felt hatred bubbling inside her. So William Bulstrode had not only plotted to kill innocent muggles, but had left the person who should have been the mother of his child to suffer, alone in the hospital.
The memory was still playing and, watching it again, Hope made a further observation - there was a bruise on Marietta's face, purple and blue, flaring up over the cheekbone.
"Her cheek," Hope murmured, but Hestia shook her head, her eyes now firm.
"I can't comment on that, Hope. I'm sorry, but you will understand I've already told you far more than I should have done. I will say that any signs of mistreatment within our patients are always followed up, no matter who they are or how small the sign. Always. We have a strict procedure for it."
Hope's throat stuck itself together. Reading between the lines, it sounded as though Marietta's partner had been violent. Unsurprising, she supposed, if he had been involved in The Surge. Maybe he had been calculating and manipulative like Cadmus, able to hide his true nature from all but those closest to him. And Marietta had been with this man for years, Hermione had said. Hope tried to imagine being with Cadmus for years, remembering the feeling of suffocation, the inability to trust her own judgment, the sensation of being trapped with no escape. A cold fist clenched round her heart at the thought.
Hestia had now removed the memory and the pensieve from the desk with a wave of her wand.
"Hope, I answered your question because it concerned you as a baby and you had a right to know. We all have a right to know the truth about our own lives. But I can't tell you any more and even if I could, I don't believe further information would help you. And you-"
"I know, I know," Hope mumbled. "I need to concentrate on myself. I do understand."
"I mean it. Mental illness needs to be taken as seriously as physical illness. You may wish to speak to a professional and I'm happy to recommend someone, but I feel very strongly that you should talk to your parents first, above all, and as soon as possible. I can't make you do anything, but I can promise you that they love you. They need to know what you are going through and they will be there to help you. I would be doing your whole family a disservice if I let you believe otherwise."
Tiny shreds of sense were finally starting to emerge from the chaos of Hope's mind.
"None of us would ever want you to suffer in silence."
"You're my daughter. There will not be a single day, while I still walk this earth, when I don't try and protect you."
"You can talk to me. About anything."
O
Hope had dried her eyes and morphed away all signs of her tears when she finally arrived home, praying that her parents would be in, and alone. Teddy would have to know soon too but, much as she adored him, she could not stand the thought of him being there now, a model picture of what she could have been herself if she hadn't messed up so badly.
To her relief, they were both sitting at the kitchen table, Remus engrossed in a paper and Tonks flicking through a catalogue. Hope noticed the kitchen was spotless. No doubt her father had resignedly tidied away the mess she had made earlier. As he had done every day since the start of the holidays.
I can't do this.
Tonks looked up at her and smiled, eyes warm. "Good day? There's some food left for you.'
Hope knew an instant prickle of suspicion. This was not how she was accustomed to being greeted of late. Where were the probing questions about where she had been all day? Where were the sighs about the mess she had left in the kitchen? And why were they both regarding her with kind understanding?
Did they know? Surely not. Hestia would never have been able to tell them in such a short space of time, and in any case, she had said she wouldn't.
And then Hope remembered the letter in her jacket pocket, bearing her disappointing - catastrophic - NEWT results. Of course. Her mother had been in work today, and some of her colleagues had children who were also expecting results. Sons and daughters who would have come down the stairs, beaming and waving their letters, not stuffed it in their pocket and slunk out the door. And so her own parents would now be wondering why she hadn't told them, correctly guessing the reason but remaining unaware of so much else.
They think it's about exams. And they've resolved to be understanding and not get angry like last time, and they have no idea that poor results is a drop in the ocean compared to what I'm about to tell them.
"Hope?" She had been standing frozen. She would have to say it. She would get it all out. All out in one.
But it was so difficult.
Just like she was.
"We had it so easy with Teddy."
"You are nothing like your brother."
"Even more hopeless than I thought."
Then the memory that Hestia had shown her. It flared in her mind, strong and bright, driving away the negativity, like a patronus that she knew the theory of but stood no chance of producing. You needed happy thoughts for a patronus.
"Your parents love you. They will be there to help you."
"I- I need to tell you something," she started. She clenched her fists in her jacket pocket to stop them from shaking yet again. "But – but it's quite long, so can you let me say everything… get everything out, before you react at all?"
"Of course." It was Remus who spoke. Her mother nodded. Both looks of concern intensified. Hope knew they now suspected this was about more than exam results.
"I'm pregnant."
Whatever they had been expecting, it wasn't this. She saw blank shock on her father's face, pure dismay on her mother's, and looked down at the table. She needed to say it all, now she had started, but looking them in the eyes as she did so was going to be impossible.
"I'm pregnant," she repeated, speaking to the wooden countertop. "I don't know who the father is. It's definitely not Cadmus but we broke up in May and I've been with different people since then. I don't really remember the last month of term. This whole year's been a disaster. I stopped working. I didn't do any studying. I stopped writing to Dom and Roxanne even though they keep sending me letters. I got kicked off the quidditch team because I never went to practice. And it didn't even matter because they won the cup without me. I got my NEWT results this morning and I- I failed every single exam paper. And then I went to the hospital, because I knew - I knew I couldn't be pregnant. But it was too horrible being there alone and I got scared and backed out. And now I'm so confused and I don't know what to do."
Hope chanced a glance up. The shock and pain in her parents' eyes was more than she could bear.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. The words that had always come to her with such difficulty fell from her lips, unleashing a further torrent of garbled confession, as the tears from earlier clouded her vision once more. "I am sorry. You have to believe me. I never wanted to do everything wrong and let you down. But - but I've felt so lost, the last few years, especially since Dom and Roxanne left. You were right, ages ago, when you said I needed other friends. But I didn't make them, and by the time I realised it for myself, it was too late. And I've even been horrible to you and argued with you and I - I always feel guilty after and I'm scared we'll fall out and you'll get ill and – and it'll all be my fault. And-" Hope screwed up her eyes as the hardest part to admit rose to the surface as well. "I feel so, so sad - all the time. I've tried and tried but I can't make the sadness go away-" Tonks was on her feet now, coming towards her, unable to sit still a second longer in the face of her daughter's distress.
"-and I never knew how to tell anyone because everyone else seems to have real problems… and now…" the tears were now falling thick and fast and her breath came out in uncontrollable gasps as Tonks reached her, wrapped her arms around her and pulled her close. Hope buried her face in her mother's shoulder, feeling like a five-year-old again, wishing she was five years old, wishing that she could go back to a time when life was simple, when exams didn't matter, when pregnancy was something that could only happen to adults. Not to her.
And then her father was there as well, standing right beside the two of them, a hand on her shoulder. "Let it out," he murmured. "Let it out, Hope. It will be alright."
"It won't be. I've messed everything up," she choked out. "I've done everything wrong, but- but I truly - truly didn't mean to. I didn't want to. And I am really sorry. I'm sorry I let you down. I'm sorry I couldn't be like Teddy."
"Like Teddy?" The shock in her mother's voice made her look up, and she dragged her sleeve over her face in an attempt to focus her vision. Tonks gripped her by the shoulders and pushed her back half a step to look her directly in the eye.
"Hope, what are you talking about? What do you mean, like Teddy? When have we ever asked you to be like Teddy?"
"You do wish I was like Teddy," Hope sniffed, her voice thick as she stared down at the floor again. "Everyone wishes I was like Teddy. People at school said how great he was, and the teachers liked him so much better. And I overheard you say… you said at New Year that Teddy was so easy. And I'm really difficult. But I don't blame you," she added, as her mother's face crumpled with guilt and she shot an anguished look at her husband. "I wish I was like Teddy. Teddy is good and sensible, and Teddy was Head Boy and everyone loved him and he got great exam results and went to work at St Mungo's and he saved your life and one day he will cure Dad, and I've done nothing. Elodie was right - I am hopeless."
"Hope." Remus's voice was firm as her body convulsed with renewed sobs, and Tonks took her back into her arms, tears now spilling down her own cheeks, unable to find words to respond. "This is very serious, and we need to talk about it properly, but first you have to let everything out, as much as you need to. We're not going anywhere. We're here to help you. And we love you. For you. Please, please never believe for a second that we don't."
Hope felt him join them, holding both of them tightly, and for a long time the three of them stood there as she cried, letting out months' worth of anguish and misery, until eventually the tears began to dry up, the warmth of her parents' embrace soothing her, and her breathing returned to normal.
O
Quite a long while later, Hope lay on the sofa, her head on a cushion in her mother's lap, feeling completely drained, but calmer. Her mother was stroking her hair, her father was sitting in the armchair opposite, listening intently, occasionally offering his own thoughts, and for the first time in a long time, Hope could see a tiny speck of light at the end of the dark, downward spiralling tunnel she had been trapped in for so long.
They had been talking for well over an hour. Hope had not said much at all, allowing herself instead to be soothed by words of comfort and reassurance. By the insistence that the only important consideration at the moment was her own wellbeing, that school and exams were nothing compared to that. The assurance that she should never feel like she wasn't allowed to be unhappy. All problems were problems, and only by talking about those problems could they be resolved. The gentle reminder that she did have friends, friends who cared about her, who would want to help her. The plea that she not worry and agonise over her parents' health, because they were fit and healthy and intended to stay that way, and even if that should change, it would certainly not be her fault. And above all, the promise that her parents loved her for who she was.
"…I am truly, truly sorry if we made you feel inferior to Teddy," Tonks was saying, her voice wobbling as she said it. "But I promise we have never once thought that Hope, never. You have caused us to worry more, in some ways, but we have never wished you any other way. Teddy has made plenty of mistakes as well, everyone does - mistakes are part of life. And as for the arguing, most teenagers argue with their parents. I certainly did - ask your grandmother."
Hope managed a watery smile.
"And I'm so sorry," Tonks went on. "That you have been suffering for two years, and I never realised."
Remus had not said much either, but the sadness in his eyes spoke volumes.
"I didn't feel this bad all the time," Hope countered hurriedly. "The holidays were OK, and a lot of sixth year wasn't too bad. And quidditch was good until I had to leave the team. But life kept going wrong. And I - I couldn't work out how to fix it."
Exhausted as she was, waves of calm continued to wash over her, quite as effective as the blue potion from earlier. She tried to imagine carrying the weight of that morning, and knew a silent rush of gratitude to Hestia, for her straightforward advice, her insistence that her parents would be there for her no matter what, and that she should share the burden that was weighing on her.
"It won't always feel like this," Remus said. "It might not seem like it right now, but you'll find your place in the end. And we'll be here to help you every step of the way."
"As for your other news," Tonks went on, and Hope stiffened a little, but there was no change in either of her parents' demeanours, merely a continued stroke of the hair, two sad but loving smiles. "I think it's best we discuss that in the morning, when you have had some proper rest."
"Yes," Remus agreed. "But we'll support you in that too, whatever happens and whatever you decide to do."
There was a peaceful silence, then a sound at the door and a call.
"Teddy," Remus muttered, looking at his watch. "He said he'd pick up those boxes from his room." He looked down at Hope, understanding. "I could ask him to come back tomorrow. I don't think he would mind."
Hope knew he wouldn't mind. This was Teddy. Her brother and her friend.
"I would like him here," she said. "I just – I don't want to talk about it anymore. Tonight, I mean. You can tell him though," she added. "Later."
Remus went to greet his son at the back door. How odd, Hope thought vaguely, that after all these years of Teddy being the one she confided in first, that the tables should now be turned.
She heard the indistinct murmur of male voices for a minute or two. Teddy made no comment about her swollen eyes as they entered the room. He bent down to give her a hug, and she returned it, before shifting her feet to allow him to sit down on the sofa.
She stretched her legs back out, and Teddy pinched her toes gently through her socks, an old childhood habit. Hope twitched them in return at him before closing her eyes. Remus turned to his son and asked him how the new house decorations were going, and as Hope listened to the three of them talking softly, the words seem to blur completely, and, head still in her mother's lap, she did what she hadn't done in months, and drifted off to sleep.
O
Hours later, when Hope had managed to wake up enough to crawl upstairs to bed, Teddy looked in to check on her. She was sound asleep with the light on, her face white, eyes still swollen and red. Teddy took Fluffy down from his shelf and tucked him under the covers, and turned the nightlight on and the main light off with a flick of his wand. How many times had he done this for her as a child, he thought sadly. If only life were as simple now.
"She's asleep," he told his parents, depositing the bag of shrunk boxes at his feet. He hovered, unsure if he should leave. "You don't have to tell me if she doesn't want me to know."
"She does," Remus said simply and Teddy sat back down.
They explained. Told him all Hope had told them and all they had told her. Teddy's expression was serious and sad as his mother's eyes filled with tears on several occasions.
"I feel so guilty, so awful," she whispered, brushing a couple of them away. "To think we never knew, all these months, about any of it. We knew she didn't seem quite herself, but – but we thought she was just… being a regular teenager. And I should know by now. I should. How many people have I known over the years who have struggled silently? How many times have I had proof that if something doesn't seem right then it probably isn't? Take Ron. I talked to him after he left the Auror department. Talked to him for ages, about how he'd been unhappy months, years really. He didn't talk to anyone about it, not even his best friends, but when he got better the change was so obvious that I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed before, and I told myself I would always notice, in future, if people weren't OK. And – and I couldn't even do it for my own child."
Teddy put an arm round her as she put her face despairingly in her hands.
"Mum," he said. "It's not your fault. Hope has always been able to hide how she feels. It's not her fault either, it's just how she is. She keeps such a tight lid on her emotions anyway, and being able to morph will have made that a hundred times worse. And you're not to blame yourself either," he added, gazing sternly at Remus, who had grimaced at the words. "Just because it's a trait she gets from you doesn't make it your fault."
Tonks brushed her tears away and forced a laugh.
"When did our baby boy become the parent?"
"I'm not a parent," Teddy said at once. "That's precisely the point, isn't it?"
He chewed his lip, trying to find the words.
"I'm not a parent," he repeated. "So I know… I know that means I can't understand how you feel right now. But – but the thing is… you can't always protect us. We know you're here for us, and we love you for it, but we are going to have to go through some stuff on our own… you know. And we'll do it wrong, probably, half the time. But that - that's just the way the world is… and that's how we'll learn. And one day we might be parents ourselves and fully understand…" He trailed off again. "Sorry," he muttered. "That doesn't make much sense."
"It does make sense," Remus told him. "It does. Believe me."
Teddy sighed and looked down at his watch.
"I'd better get back," he said. "Victoire will be wondering where I am. I won't tell her about this yet."
He gave his mother a hug and patted his father on the shoulder. "Let me know if I can do anything. I can come back tomorrow if you like, I'm not in work."
"Thanks Teddy."
The door shut behind Teddy. Tonks let a few more tears fall, before drying them. Remus came and sat down next to her on the sofa, staring into the empty fireplace.
"Remus?"
"I'm fine," he said hastily, looking round at her. She was visibly unimpressed.
"Are we really going to do the 'I'm fine' rigmarole? After today?"
He closed his eyes.
"How could I be fine, right now?"
Tonks was startled to see the damp on his cheeks as he passed a hand over his face. She had seen Remus go through many emotions over the years. Witnessed more of his true feelings than anyone still alive on this earth, but she had rarely seen him succumb to tears. Even then, they had been fleeting - the smallest outward sign that the inner emotions were too much to bear. Tears of joy at the birth of their children. Of grief, after Sirius's death, as they sat together in the hospital, unable to process that he was gone. Of sheer panic after his rash decision to run away and abandon her, when he had eventually returned and begged her forgiveness and it had seemed as though she was going to turn him away. Of relief, after the battle of Hogwarts, as they sat in silence, holding Teddy, unable to believe that the war was over and they were alive. Of despair, after her third miscarriage, when he had mostly held his grief together for her own sake. She had never seen him cry like this. She moved closer to him and pressed herself against him as his shoulders shook, and let the words come on their own.
"Your mother once told me," he said at last, as his breathing steadied. "Something I've never forgotten, although Teddy reminded me of it just now."
"My mother?"
"Yes, when we were living with your parents during the war. Not long before we moved here. I was in the kitchen with her, getting us drinks I guess, and we ended up talking. First proper conversation I had with her after... after I came back."
"I think I remember that," Tonks said. "I came down to see what was taking you so long, and I ended up overhearing." She grinned, in spite of herself. "And naturally you knew I'd overheard the second you got back upstairs and saw my guilt ridden face. I don't remember what was said."
"Oh I do," Remus said. "I'm not likely to ever forget it. She was – angry, mostly. Didn't raise her voice, but the anger was there. Fury, even. That I had hurt you, more than once, caused you pain that could have been avoided. She told me she had never seen you as unhappy as I had made you. And I-" Remus's eyes were haunted as they stared back his wife. "I said I understood."
Tonks did remember this now, even if she could not recall the exact words. There had been emotion in her mother's voice that she had never heard before.
"I thought I did understand," Remus went on. "At the time. Because hurting you is the worst thing I've ever done, and seeing you suffer because of me as good as tore me apart."
He accepted the hand she was holding out to him.
"She told me I didn't. Said I couldn't possibly. That one day, maybe I would, when my own child was grown up, when I had witnessed them struggle against everything the world had to throw at them, make choices without my help, find their own way. But that now – then - I couldn't possibly comprehend how it felt… to see my child at their lowest point and know there was nothing I could do to ease their pain."
"Remus-"
"She was right."
He took a shaky intake of breath.
"I don't think I understood until today," he said hoarsely. "When Hope broke down and all I could do was stand there and hold you both and say meaningless words that did nothing to help. And-"
"Remus." Her voice was firm. Her arms came round his neck and she put her forehead against his cheek. "Listen to me."
He gave the tiniest of nods to show that he was.
"I know how you feel," she breathed. "Of course I know how you feel. But Mum wasn't right about everything. Not about there being nothing we can do." She grimaced. "I get why she felt that way, because I never told her anything growing up. Never asked for her advice. Never told her how I was really feeling. Insisted I was fine on my own. If I hadn't lost my powers and looked so awful, she never would have known you'd hurt me in the first place. I didn't volunteer the information, believe me. She drilled it out of me when I was at my most vulnerable point."
Remus winced, the guilt still strong, even now, whenever the subject of the difficult start to their relationship was broached. Tonks read his expression and sighed.
"That is not what we're talking about and you know it." She tilted his chin and forced him to look round at her. "Twenty-five years in the past and that's where it stays. My point, Remus, is that there was nothing my mother could do to help me, because I didn't let her help me. It's different, with Hope. She has let us in. Belatedly, it's true, but she came to us and she told us what was going on. She came to us for advice and help, and so now we can be here for her. We'll help her get through this. As her parents." Remus nodded, his eyes now dry, as Tonks rested her head against his shoulder.
"As a family."
OOO