"The Devil's Dilemma"
Chapter Three
"In Which Startling Discoveries are Made"
"I feel your fingers, cold on my shoulder-
Your chilling touch as it runs down my spine.
Watching your eyes as they invade my soul
Forbidden pleasures I'm afraid to make mine…
At the touch of your hand, at the sound of your voice--
at the moment your eyes meet mine--
I am out of my mind… I am out of control--full of feelings I can't define!
-"Dangerous Game," from the Broadway Show Jekyll and Hyde
The Department of Magical Births was a lesser-known division of the Ministry of Magic and was not considered to be an office with much prestige. In fact, it was so "un-prestigious" that its tiny working office was in the very bowels of the main Ministry building —next to the boiler room, which was a place where even angels feared to tread; it was a lesser-known division of the Ministry of Magic which very rarely drew much in the way of attention. Unlike the high-profile events that took place in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement or the Department of International Magical Cooperation, the proceedings in the Department of Magical Births were rather ordinary. The only people with vested interests in the workings of the office were Wizarding schools, eager to hear about the newest magical births so that they could add the babies' names to their mailing lists, and red-faced wizards who wondered if improperly cast contraceptive charms had truly rendered them daddies.
The sole interesting thing about the Department of Magical Births was the process in which newborn Witches or Wizard's names were recorded in the Official Birth Record. Whenever a child of wizarding blood was born, a special enchanted quill, made of solid gold with a diamond nib, levitated away from its customary spot in a well of crimson ink to a beautifully ornamented record book. As if manipulated by an unseen hand, the quill wrote the baby's full name in elegant script in the next available spot. The parents' names were also recorded. After this was completed, an employee would send out a form letter of congratulations to the proud parents. Some days were rather full--fifty or so births- - but other days were positively boring with not a single birth to herald!
On this particular day, Thaddeus Davies, the department head, sat at his unkempt desk with his feet crossed on the desktop and his chair balancing rather precariously on its back legs, slowly sipping his tea. He was reading the latest edition of Which Witch and trying in vain to finish the crossword. His assistant, Loretta Pritchard, was busily typing out a congratulatory note to the parents of Ira Coombs, born June second in Gloucester. A huge stack of birth notices was heaped next to her typewriter, nearly obliterating the tiny woman from view.
Mr. Davies looked up from his crossword and over to his hard-working assistant. "Loretta, what's a seven letter word meaning 'hairy?' Third letter's 'R' and the seventh letter is 'E'."
Loretta paused and chewed her lip thoughtfully for a few seconds. "Hirsute?"
Mr. Davies chewed the tip of his quill contemplatively. He took another sip of his tea as he stared at the empty squares in front of him to see if Loretta's suggestion had any merit. It did. "Ah, there we go!" Thaddeus scribbled in the letters with a grin of victory.
Loretta rolled her eyes as she glared at her immediate supervisor. "You do realize that, with two of us typing, this job could be completed in no time," Mrs. Pritchard said with a trace of annoyance. "Honestly, we're nearly out of the month of July and I'm still up to my elbows in June births! There's no way I can keep up with this on my own." She stood up and gestured expansively at her desk to emphasize her point.
"Don't blame me, Loretta, blame the quill," Thaddeus said without looking back up.
It was no secret amongst those who had spent a while in the Department of Magical Births that the enchanted quill was ready for retirement: enchantments only lasted so long and, more often than not, recently, the revered quill refused to log names in the book, much to the chagrin of everyone in the department. As a result, when repairs were made to the quill, there was often a backlog of names several feet long, which would then create a lot of work for employees. Members of staff tried to petition the Ministry for a new quill, but their request was denied due to budget cuts. Added to that, there was the fact that Cornelius Fudge was extremely tight with the Ministry's money.
Typical lazy man, Loretta thought. Can't be arsed to do anything! Mrs. Pritchard decided that the time had come to play her trump card: "Well if you're not going to help me, then expect to have to pay me an unheard of amount of overtime," Loretta said resignedly. "I'm going to be here until He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is defeated typing out these announcements." She turned back to her typewriter with a tiny smile. Three seconds and Mr. Davies will be typing right along beside me, she thought with a mental chuckle.
Sure enough, her statement caused Thaddeus to take notice: overtime was the cardinal sin of the Ministry of Magic. Old man Fudge would be all over him like a cheap set of robes if he submitted an overtime slip. He decided that it might be prudent to assist his co-worker.
Thaddeus stood up, stretched, and walked across the room. He picked up a stack of announcements and set himself up at the nearest typewriter. He did not notice the cleverly disguised bark of laughter coming from Loretta's desk, which she managed to pass off as a sneeze.
Loretta reached for another notice and read it aloud: "Andrea St. Mulligan, daughter of Miles and Sarah St. Mulligan of Ballantrae. I wonder if Miles St. Mulligan is the same St. Mulligan who finished Hogwarts with my Stanley last year?"
"Wouldn't know. Isn't Stanley playing for the Wasps now?" asked Thaddeus as he worked on the birth record for Eva Spencer, daughter of Horace and Julia Spencer of Sutton-in-Ashfield.
"Not at the moment," lamented Loretta with a sigh. "Stanley straddled his broomstick a little too quickly in practice and took a large splinter a bit too close to the nether regions for comfort. Damned Cleansweeps!"
Mr. Davies crossed his legs uncomfortably at this bit of news. Splinter injuries were the bane of any Quidditch player worth his salt; they were the worst kind of injury to incur while riding a broomstick. Most women, for all their sympathetic words and soothing gestures, did not comprehend just how painful they could be.
"He's on the disabled list until further notice--refuses to have the splinter removed by a mediwizard. I think he's proud of it, personally." Loretta placed her now-typed congratulatory note into the growing pile of finished work and reached for another one.
Placing it into her typewriter, Loretta paused to read the name of the child. Abigail Rose, born June the fourth. What a sweet name, she thought. She looked to the parent's names. The card read: "Harry and Tessa Potter, residence unknown."
Residence unknown? Thought Loretta. That can't be right. The quill could locate anyone. That is, of course, unless they were under some sort of concealment charm. Was the quill misfiring again? She double-checked the names of the parents. Harry and Tessa Potter. Harry Potter. Was this the Harry Potter? The name of the mother struck her as familiar as well, but she couldn't put a finger on why, exactly. Something about a scandal, that much she knew. It had been in all of the papers back in January but suddenly dropped out of sight, like a rock in a pond, not long afterward.
"Mr. Davies, do you remember a while back when Harry Potter was in the news? "Mr. Davies, do you remember a while back when Harry Potter was in the news? Something about him being nearly killed when a woman seduced him out of Hogwarts?"
"Who doesn't remember?" asked Mr. Davies. "Harry Potter's picture was in all the papers for weeks! Didn't you see all the articles in You've Got to be Kidding?The local tabloid dubbed the woman as the 'Mrs. Robinson of the Wizarding World', because she was so much older than the Potter boy was. She collapsed at her first trial and was taken to St. Mungo's for treatment. The woman managed to escape from St. Mungo's without a trace some months ago and made Mr. Fudge's division of the Ministry look completely inept when they failed to find her. Fudge was publicly humiliated at her trial, which he held even though she wasn't there to answer to the charges." Thaddeus looked as though he could barely suppress his glee and childish amusement at his statement.
Loretta smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand. "Oh, now I remember! The Oracle found her innocent on charges that she willfully intended to kill Harry. My, Fudge didn't take that well, did he?" asked Loretta.
"No, not at all," he replied with a conspiratorial smile. "The woman had public opinion on her side and it really pissed him off. People pitied her and were willing to forgive her actions after the Oracle proclaimed her innocence on some of the charges because it showed that, while she was guilty for some of her deeds, she had tried to amend things. But because she made Fudge look like a puppet leader, he made it his mission to find her and make her pay for her service to the Dark Lord."
Loretta laughed. "Well, he sort of is a puppet. I would hate to see him spearheading the resistance to a real emergency."
"Agreed," commented Mr. Davies. "Be that as it may, however, Fudge offered one thousand Galleons for her capture! So far, nobody's come forth with any information." Davies paused to take another sip of his tea. "I don't think anyone's going to either. The case is too cold and people pitied her too much to turn her in even if they did know something."
"There were also rumors that she was carrying Harry Potter's love child, but I don't think that could have really been the case. Just a nasty urban legend, if you ask me." Davies turned back to his typewriter with an air of finality and scanned what he had written so far.
I'm not so sure it was a legend, thought Loretta, if this index card is any indication."Do you remember the woman's name?" she asked.
Thaddeus Davies continued to type. "I certainly do. It was Laughlin…Tessa Laughlin. The irony of the whole mess was that she was the daughter of the Ministry's two best Aurors of all time, which made the case that much more infuriating for Mr. Fudge. If there's anything he hates more than being disturbed over his coffee, it's a turncoat. And what a turncoat Tessa Laughlin turned out to be!"
Quickly, Loretta stood up and strode over to her superior's desk. As she handed the card bearing Harry, Tessa and Abigail's name she said, "Thaddeus? I think we have something here that Mr. Fudge needs to see!"
Tessa grasped the handle to the door to the master bedroom and turned it slightly. The door opened noiselessly, sending a shaft of the last vestiges of pale moonlight streaming into the hall. She peeked through the door. Tessa saw that Harry was lying asleep in their big bed, a white bed sheet covering him to the waist, an expression of complete innocence on his face.
As she gazed upon her very young husband, Tessa's heart broke for him. Harry had put up with so much rubbish lately and a large majority of it was her fault. I can't believe I let something as silly as a bunch of stupid nightmares get in the way of what should be some of the happiest times of our lives to date, she admonished herself. I was a complete fool and took everything out on him! She mentally slapped herself at her stupidity. Well, no more, she decided. Six weeks had passed since Abigail's birth and her husband needed some TLC in the worst way; she had every intention of giving it to him.
Part of her was nervous as she stood just inside the door to the bedroom. She ran her hands down the sheer, satiny fabric of the cobalt blue baby doll nightie she wore. The slinky little item had a flyaway front with only one tie holding the ensemble together and had a matching G-string too. She had purchased the item through Muggle mail order, (using an alias, of course) shortly after she married Harry, but had never had the chance to wear it because of her pregnant belly. It had looked terrific in the catalogue, but as Tessa looked down at herself, she wondered if she had made an incredibly stupid mistake in purchasing it.
Tessa licked her dry lips apprehensively. Her throat was parched, yet her hands perspired as she attempted to get up the courage to walk into the bedroom and face her beloved. A part of her felt foolish; Harry was her husband and he loved her. She knew that! But another part of her wondered what would happen if Harry took one look at her and turned her down. She had certainly given him several reasons to do so lately: she had been nothing more than a crying, complaining ball and chain for several weeks now. It was a wonder, in her mind, that Harry hadn't packed up and left already.
For the first time in her life, Tessa contemplated her dress and physical features as well. Never one to hurry out and purchase the latest robes and other Witch-related attire, she had never bothered to keep herself apprised of the most popular hairstyles or fashions. The whole concept failed to interest her, quite frankly; it had been so when she was a teenager and it bored her still. To her mind, there was a lot more in life to be focused on other than clothes, makeup and jewelry; however, now that she was married, it had suddenly become an issue. She wanted to look good for Harry, but babies had a way of changing a woman's figure and she was afraid that he would be disappointed with what he saw.
She pinched at a bit of fat on one hip and wrinkled her nose in disgust. Tessa had never been waif-like, by any stretch of the imagination, and Harry had never commented negatively toward her body…but she had gained forty or so pounds when she was pregnant with Abigail. She had managed to lose all but ten of them, but somehow her pre-pregnancy robes still didn't fit quite right. Would he be disappointed with her altered figure? What if he took one look at her and ran screaming from the room? There's only one way to find out, she thought as she twisted a portion of the expensive material between her fingers worriedly.
The determined woman crept on silent feet across the bedroom floor and pulled back the crisp sheet that covered Harry's body. He was completely naked underneath, as Tessa surmised that he would be; the previous evening had been unusually hot and humid and sleeping in the buff was the only way he could get comfortable, he said.
She looked at him adoringly. Despite turning seventeen, his chest was still as hairless as an infant's and narrow to boot, although it was rather well toned from the years of Quidditch. His entire body was slender and lithe and was probably going to remain that way, she thought. He was going to be the sort of man who could eat anything he wanted to and his body would always be wiry, she groused with the tiniest measure of jealousy. Meanwhile, if I so much as look at a biscuit the wrong way I am going to gain half a stone. Life is most certainly not fair! Why can't carrots be the fattening food and biscuits the healthy food? What cruel and vengeful god had come up with that screwed up logic?
Dismissing her mental rant to the back of her brain to be pondered another time, Tessa sat on the bed beside Harry. She reached toward his face and placed her slender fingers in his black hair. Tessa toyed with Harry's untamable locks in a very seductive manner, allowing her fingertips to gently lift the hair from his scalp, extending the strands to their full length and letting them fall back into place. Harry stirred and sighed, enjoying the feeling of her fingers against his skin. It was rather a pleasant way to awaken.
"I'll give you three hours to stop that, Mrs. Magic Fingers," he murmured as he opened his eyes fully and stretched.
"Good morning, Harry," Tessa spoke in a low voice as she rested her loving hand on his pink cheek. She leaned over and pressed her lips delicately against his. She caught his scent--woodsy soap and just a hint of sweat--the smell of a man-child, completely pure and unspoiled. A ripple of desire coursed through her body causing her stomach to flip pleasantly as she heard him draw a deep breath beneath her and felt his arms encircle her, drawing her nearer to him. "Do you know what today is?" she asked, kissing him again.
Harry reluctantly broke the kiss. "My last day of freedom from Professor Snape?" he quipped, now unable to properly kiss her because of the wide grin which spread across his face.
Tessa laughed. It was a sound that had been noticeably absent from the house in the past weeks and Harry was heartened to hear it. "No, silly! You have another week of solace," she stated playfully, tapping Harry on the tip of his nose with her index finger, "although that wasn't what I was thinking of and you know it!" She disengaged herself from Harry's embrace and sat up once again. She flashed him a pair of bedroom eyes as she reached toward the ties that bound her outer robe together. She twirled one of the ties between her fingers.
"Well then, what were you thinking of?" asked Harry with a degree of curiosity. He observed Tessa as she stood up next to the bed and pulled her hair out of the headband it had been in. Raising her chin a bit, she reached up underneath her nut-brown hair and flipped it so that it settled in waves about her neck.
Is there a woman alive who doesn't look sexy when she does that? And do they realize just how horny they make us when they do it? Harry wondered silently. He blushed furiously at the thought. Personally, he thought that they must.
"Today is somebody's birthday," Tessa said with a coquettish smile as she stood up beside the bed and allowed Harry a good look at the revealing, scandalously short, nearly see-through blue nightdress. The liquid-like fabric hugged every possible contour of Tessa's body. "As I am unable to go into town directly I am at a bit of a loss as to what to do about your birthday present," she said with a pout. "Whatever will I do?" she asked theatrically, placing one long finger to her lips. With an alluring sway of her hips, she walked over to the large bedroom window and looked out into the back garden, a tiny smile playing about her lips as she did so.
"Er…you don't have to get me anything," Harry said with wide eyes as he stared at Tessa. In the light of the window, her lingerie leaves nothing to the imagination, he thought, and I like it. No complaints here whatsoever. Harry could feel the beginnings of an erection stirring. He stood up and walked over to the window and wrapped his arms around Tessa's midsection. "You've given me so much in Abigail as it is." But, from the looks of things, you're going to give me more, he thought.
Tessa smiled knowingly as she felt Harry's body pressed to hers. The blue nightdress had done the trick and Harry was responding appropriately…verrry appropriately if his hardness against her body was any indication.
"That's piss-poor and you know it, Harry!" Tessa said as she turned around, leaned forward and traced figure-of-eight's across the plane of Harry's bare chest with her index finger. "Everyone gets a gift on their birthday. I think that it's an unwritten law!" she declared. Tessa enjoyed Harry's nearness to her…he was warm and solid against her--he was her rock. As she rested her forehead against his, she was reminded again of how much she loved him; he was her protector, her defender and her lover…and more than fit the bill for all three.
Tessa's heady perfume and close proximity to Harry drove any idea of merely shuffling downstairs to breakfast from his mind. He marveled at her softness as she wrapped her arms around his neck and nibbled on his earlobe, causing him to gasp as his insides seemed to suddenly become roughly the consistency of tapioca.
Oh, happy birthday to me, Harry thought as he placed his hands against Tessa's apple-sized breasts and rubbed the nipples through the thin fabric with the pads of his thumbs, eliciting a groan of delight from his wife. Harry fought to keep his voice on an even keel. "Tell that to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia," he squeaked. "I honestly…can't remember a birthday…where I…even got a lousy…card!" Tessa's warm breath against his neck and her fingernails digging into his back was all he could concentrate on. Coherent sentences were rapidly becoming an issue.
Tessa was aghast. "Surely you're joking! Did they make you a cake, at the very least?" she whispered.
"If they did, I never saw it."
"My poor little man!" Tessa exclaimed as she kissed Harry's neck. "Those days are gone for good, Harry! I'm going to make you a cake today and you're going to get a present. I daresay it's going to be a better gift than anything your Aunt or Uncle could ever get for you!"
Harry's hands left Tessa's breasts at that moment and reached to her shoulders. Slowly he allowed his fingers to move underneath the delicate cloth of her camisole. His hands could not seem to get enough of her; he touched her everywhere, his fingers trailing down her arms, across her hands to her stomach and waist and eventually her hips. Tessa moaned slightly and placed her hands on his firm bottom as his fingertips moved ever so slowly downward…
Tessa's lips moved up Harry's neck and rested just underneath his chin. The hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood up and a ripple of goose bumps popped out on his arms as she gently sucked at his skin.
"Hey, hey…I do have to go back to Hogwarts next week, you know!" Harry protested. "I don't need another physical abnormality for people to stare at! I wouldn't exactly be able to explain it as a bite from Hedwig!"
This comment caused Tessa to laugh against him. "Sorry! Trouble is," Tessa whispered as she pressed her lips against his earlobe and caressed him with her hands, "what does one get for the Wizarding World's newest fully-fledged adult, who has saved the world on more than one occasion?"
Harry pulled Tessa as close to himself as he could. "I can think of something I'd like," he murmured as he eyed her appreciatively, "but you're the only one I want it from."
"Do you really, Harry?" Tessa looked down at herself and blushed.
"Yes…why wouldn't I?" Harry asked.
"Well…I just thought you'd be disappointed with me…I'm bigger than I used to be and I've been nothing but a bitch to live with these last few weeks. I don't see myself as a real turn-on for you, Harry." Tessa lowered her head slightly and looked up at Harry's kind face.
"You're always going to be a turn-on for me, Tessa, even if you weighed fifty stone! You always will be to me," Harry answered. "You've given me a beautiful daughter and proven your love to me in so many ways. Come here," he said softly as he drew her into his arms. He gently traced her lips with his thumb. Tessa leaned up to him so that the couple's lips just barely touched "Could I get you in a big red bow?" Harry asked as he kissed her softly. "Actually, I think I'd prefer you without the bow. Saves time, you know."
Harry's fingers fumbled clumsily with the delicate lace straps that held Tessa's camisole together. After a small amount of cursing, coupled with passionate kisses that took Tessa's breath away, Harry managed to peel the garment away from Tessa's shoulders. His eyes drank in the sight of her as she stood before him wearing nothing now except for the G-string, with her face flushed and eyelids lowered seductively.
Tessa fell towards him in contentment as Harry's lips traveled from her own to her chin and to her collarbone and then to her breasts. His tongue flicked at her nipples, causing her to cry out. His kisses against her neck and collarbone were hard and passionate; his hands roamed all over her body as if consumed with a lust for her that truly had to be indecent and wrong, but in his mind was not only right, but also necessary.
"I want you so badly it hurts," Harry groaned as he enveloped Tessa in his arms and crushed his lips to hers. He felt her hands begin to stroke him lightly and it was all he could do not to explode right then and there.
Harry's hands moved to the space between her legs. He could feel her damp with desire against his fingers and his arousal rose even higher; so frantic was he to have her at that very moment that he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her G-string. When it did not come off as quickly as he wanted it to, he merely tore it away from her body in his desperation to get to her.
"You're so sexy," he voiced huskily. "This might be stupid to say, but you're even more sexy to me now that you've had Abigail! Your body is so amazing!"
Tessa's excitement rose as she heard Harry's words in her ear. "Fuck the living daylights out of me, Harry," Tessa pleaded, her eyes glazed with desire for him. "I want you inside of me as deeply as you can possibly get. Do it now…do it quick!"
"I intend on doing just that," Harry voiced, his words low in his throat. He pushed her gently against the bedroom wall.
"But the bed is just over--" Tessa began.
"No. Here…" Harry urged. His eyes were closed and his breathing was heavy and unsteady as he enjoyed the feeling of Tessa's hands moving slowly over the length of his penis, her fingers warm against him, her grip firm. "Against the wall…"
"That's rather kinky!" Tessa said in a flirty tone.
"It's my birthday! And you're one to make a comment on kinkiness," Harry chided as he looked down at Tessa's busy hands.
"Touch¾ ! You can have me any way you want me, Harry," Tessa murmured into his neck, her words raw with emotion. She lifted her head and pressed her lips to his. He enveloped her in his arms and she plunged her fingers into his thick hair; he picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, kissing him the entire time as he leaned her against a wall for support.
"God, Harry!" Tessa cried out as he immersed himself deep within her. She had craved reassurance from Harry that she was still sexy and beautiful, at least in his eyes, and he was now proving it very convincingly. Her fingers entwined themselves behind his neck so that she could gain a bit of support. She rocked herself against him and met him thrust for thrust and for a very long time there were no words from either party as both worked to fulfil a basic human drive. As the lovers worked their way into an extremely erotic frenzy, both Harry and Tessa slid to the floor in a tangled mess of arms and legs and remained there for quite some time, getting to know one another once again.
And there, gentle reader, we shall leave our lovers because, at least for a short while, there was no discernable conversation….
Tessa loved giving Abigail a bath. Bath time with her daughter was a bonding time: a time when mummy and daughter could spend time getting to know each other. Abigail Rose Potter was Tessa's beacon of light as of late. She undressed her daughter slowly, placing little kisses all over her shoulders, chest and tummy and gently rubbing her skinny arms and legs. As she did this, she reflected on how life had changed since Abigail's arrival.
At first, the concept that she was largely responsible for the welfare of a human being as tiny as Abigail had been a bit daunting. Tessa truly wished that her mother were still alive to help her out. As it stood presently, she and Harry were trying to learn everything there was to know about parenting as they went along. Sometimes they were successful and sometimes not. Harry, for example, in a move that Tessa still sniggered over, had put Abigail to bed for the night without a nappy the previous week. Two hours after his unfortunate error, he was removing soiled sheets from the bassinet and running a load of washing at 11:30 PM.
Not that Tessa herself was without fault, of course. After one particularly long shot without sleep (due to Abigail's incessant need for constant feeding that week and not a desire to remain awake to keep a certain demon away), Tessa stumbled blindly to the refrigerator and pulled out what she thought was an ordinary container of milk. She drank it in huge thirsty gulps and would have continued except Harry chose that moment to step into the kitchen, see what she was doing and cry out with disgust, "That's breast milk, Tessa!" Tessa gagged and spat the mouthful of liquid into the sink.
Despite these mishaps, however, Abigail was a delight and a joy to her mother and father and, the ignorance of her parents notwithstanding, was thriving in their care. Every day was a new challenge; every day that passed taught the young couple something new. Babies were full of surprises and never boring. If Tessa gained nothing else by the whole experience, she had learned that she had a lot to learn.
After testing the water with her elbow, Tessa placed Abigail into her bath seat, picked her up and lowered her into the tub. "Here you go, sweetie! Doesn't it feel good to have a bath and get all clean?" Tessa asked her tiny daughter in a loving voice. Abigail was surprised at the wetness of the water and her limbs jerked reflexively as she made contact with the liquid.
Tessa smiled. "Now, now. The water's not that cold!" She filled a small container with water and gently poured it over Abigail's head, making sure to place the side of her hand on the child's forehead so that the water would not run into her eyes. "Doesn't that feel heavenly?" she cooed. "We'll get you all shampooed and soaped up and then we'll rub some lotion on your little back and tummy and you'll smell soooo nice!" Tessa lifted Abigail's tiny feet to her lips and kissed the small toes.
Abigail merely looked at her mother as if to say, someone's having way too much fun at my expense!
As Tessa carefully lathered the baby's head, making certain not to put too much pressure on the 'soft spot' where Abigail's skull had yet to fuse together, she mentally thanked the Almighty that she seemed to be over the worst of the baby blues. It had been a rough several weeks since she had come home with the baby. She shuddered to think how nasty she must have been to Harry during that time period. She hadn't allowed herself to sleep and it had nearly driven both she and her young husband insane.
However, nearly a month had passed since the night Harry cast a peaceful slumber charm on Tessa, permitting her to sleep without dreaming. It had been a month since she had been pulled into Wormtail's fantasies unwillingly. Because of Tessa's fears that the nightmares would return, she refused to tempt fate; instead of sleeping at night she was now catching sleep in small shifts during the day. Her rationale for this was simple: most people, Wormtail included, she surmised, slept at night; if she slept during the day and stayed awake at night, it would significantly reduce the chances that Wormtail would be able to invade her subconscious!
So far, the plan had worked marvelously; Tessa had not been bothered by nightmares in any way. With an adequate amount of sleep came an increased amount of lucid, logical thought, so it wasn't long before Tessa was able to entertain the notion that perhaps--just perhaps, mind you -- the concept of Dreamfasting had been some sort of elaborate dream induced by drugs at the hospital and exacerbated by her own irrational fears. After all, Wormtail was one of the last people she had seen before she fell into her coma; he would have been prominent in her mind at the time, therefore lending a large amount of credence to the idea that his presence was caused by something other than magical means.
In fact, she could almost laugh about the whole thing now. Imagine, she thought to herself, being able to coerce somebody into doing things they normally wouldn't do just by dreaming about them. The very idea was preposterous! Still, the idea made her just uncomfortable enough that she chose to remain on her sleep schedule a little while longer, just to be on the safe side.
Harry wasn't very keen on her new sleeping pattern, but Tessa knew that he had a hard time finding major fault with it if, indeed, Tessa was getting the rest she needed. She knew that he was simply glad that the woman he loved and had married was finally beginning to behave like a normal human being again. Tessa was glad too. She smiled on occasion now; she felt like she was growing stronger each day; she was even able to cast some basic cleaning charms again and the house did not look quite so "lived in" anymore. Things seemed to be looking up for both Tessa and her young husband.
After rinsing the baby shampoo from Abigail's thick black hair, Tessa swaddled the shivering, slippery baby in a soft white towel. She then carried her to the nursery, where she blew raspberries against the little girl's belly. She sprinkled talcum powder and rubbed lavender lotion onto Abigail's skin, warming it in her hands first. After placing a clean nappy on the baby, Tessa dressed her in a downy pink sleep suit and ran a brush through the infant's untamable hair. She hummed a little tune as she placed a tiny pink bow in Abigail's hair.
"There you go! Don't you look pretty?" she asked jovially as she lifted Abigail to the mirror. She took one of the little girl's hands in her own and waved it in the mirror. "Hi! Look at this beautiful girl! Who is mummy's girl? Huh? Who is mummy's girl? Abigail is mummy's girl!" Tessa babbled nonsensically, as all parents occasionally do with their very young children.
Abigail said absolutely nothing, content to stare at the baby looking back at her in the mirror. She leaned forward slightly and her breathing grew a bit more rapid. Tessa smiled. "You like that little girl in the mirror, don't you?"
Tessa cuddled the little girl close and breathed in her clean scent as she sat down in the rocking chair. "Let's do lunch, Abigail," she offered as she unbuttoned her blouse and prepared to feed her. "Daddy's still asleep and I don't wish to wake him. After all, it is his birthday and he should be able to sleep in if he wants to."
Tessa thought back to just a few hours earlier, when she had given him her little "birthday gift", and smiled. She was still a little bit sore and stiff from the activity; Harry had been unusually demanding with her; not rough, exactly…maybe 'inspired' was a better word. Still, both had enjoyed the sex and Tessa felt, for the first time since she had come home from the hospital with Abigail, that she and Harry were going to be all right.
The two sat contentedly together in the nursery for some time. Tessa rocked gently and sang to her daughter as she suckled. The warmth of the summer sun through the windowpane felt heavenly on Tessa's back and, after several moments of quiet bonding time, mother and child fell asleep.
Tessa stood before her secondary school orchestra, with her conducting baton in one hand and the score to the "Chorale from Jupiter" by Gustav Holst in the other. She regarded her large group with a glare that would have frozen molten lava, even on the hottest day.
"Frankly, I fail to understand how it is that after four years of music lessons none of you are comfortable playing in the key of A-flat Major. Honestly, ladies and gentleman, it shouldn't be a foreign language!" Tessa slammed her score onto the podium and flipped a few pages. "Trumpets, B-flat is first valve, not second. Think 'flat first' and that should alleviate a lot of your problems. You should have learned that in the first week of lessons. Lord knows I taught it!"
As Tessa glowered angrily into her music score, she heard the low sound of a man's laughter coming from behind her. Her eyes left the score and stared straight ahead, her facial expression cantankerous. Whoever is daring to laugh at me is going to rue the day that he interrupted my class, she thought. The individual behind her chuckled once again and the hairs on the back of her neck rose precipitously. She knew that laugh.
Please don't let it be who I think it is, she prayed fervently. Slowly, she turned around. No such luck.
Wormtail stood in the doorway to the music room, a strained smile on his face and a clarinet in his hand. It appeared to Tessa that he had lost a considerable amount of weight in a short period of time; his robes were dirty and dusty and dark circles were visible underneath his eyes. He was also pastier looking than usual.
Despite these strange things, however, she soon found out that his attitude was still as caustic and sarcastic as it had ever been. Can't I have a normal dream where I'm standing naked in front of a big crowd, just like everyone else, she thought miserably. Why does this annoying cretin continue to bother me?
"Because it's extremely e--entertaining," Wormtail informed her. "Teaching the orchestra Tessa?" he asked as he walked toward her.
"I see that, once again, the obvious is not lost on you!" Tessa said with a snarl. "Truly, you are a credit to your species. Your intelligence never fails to impress me," she commented acidly.
Wormtail looked past Tessa to the students sitting silently in their chairs behind her. "Can I play the clarinet?" he asked.
"I don't know. Can you?" asked Tessa. Her students snorted with laughter behind her.
Wormtail looked mildly affronted at her question. "It's u--up to a lovely teacher s--such as you to educate me," he said in a quiet voice.
At the mention of "lovely," Tessa's students began to laugh. She shot them a venomous look meant to scare them into silence but it wasn't successful. Eighty-five students were having a hearty laugh at her expense and it was the fault of Peter Pettigrew. Turning back to him, she spoke under her breath, "Take your clarinet and shove it up your a--"
"Ah, ah, ah…not in front of the k--kiddies!" Wormtail raised one metallic finger in the air and waved it slowly back and forth. "You don't want to l--lose your job! Are you t--trying to tell me that you can't teach a willing student how to play a c--clarinet?" His eyes sparkled merrily, despite their redness, as he asked this.
"He's got you there, Miss Laughlin," stated her principal bassoonist.
Without turning to the student, Tessa retorted with, "Alex, one more word out of you and I'm going to tell the whole class how I watched you dig around in your nose for ten minutes while I was working with the percussion section last week."
Alex, the bassoonist, immediately reddened and closed his mouth.
"That wasn't very nice, Tessa," Wormtail said as he looked past her and at the bassoon student. "You've scarred that young m--man for life!" Wormtail walked over to Tessa and lifted his lips to her ear. Very quietly, he said, "You were c--certainly able to teach me how to play the p--piano. Ah, I remember how soft and sexy your h--hands felt a--against mine…never mind h--how exceedingly appropriate the choice of teaching material was…'Pop Goes the W—Weasel', after all. "Wormtail's breath against Tessa's ear tickled annoyingly.
Does your mind ever rise above the gutter, you sadist prick? Tessa groused silently.
"Rarely where you're concerned, Mrs. Pettigrew," Wormtail said aloud.
"Stop calling me that," Tessa said in a low, barely controlled whisper. She kicked him in the shin. Wormtail gasped and bent forward, clutching at his leg and scowling up at her.
"Ow! That was d--downright rude!"
"Whoops. Foot slipped," Tessa wisecracked innocently. She heaved a mighty sigh. "Sit over there," she voiced as she pointed to a chubby girl who sat on the end of the second row. "If you so much as breathe wrong, Wormtail, you're going to think you were born in detention!"
Tessa immediately regretted her choice of words as she watched Wormtail flash her a thousand- watt smile. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" she muttered irritably.
Wormtail's smile was now so wide that he looked as though he had just won the lottery.
"Stop smiling like that. It's creepy." Wormtail fashioned a sober expression and ambled to his seat.
Tessa turned once again to her class. "All right, class, let's give a warm welcome to our guest today, Mr…er…Pettigrew."
"Good afternoon, Mr. Pettigrew!" chorused the class as one.
"Go to measure ninety-one," Tessa said as she picked up her baton. "One, two, ready…"
"Psyched you out didn't I?" Peter quipped as he snapped his fingers and the students evaporated in a puff of mist.
"You think you're so incredibly droll…" muttered Tessa as she stepped off the podium and walked away from him.
"I admit to f--feeling somewhat let d--down, Tessa. You know, for someone who advocates music for everyone, you weren't t--too keen on letting me play."
"That's because you're a hopeless twonk, Wormtail!"
"Well, p--perhaps I would be l--less of a 'twonk,' as you refer to me, if you'd slip me a few extra house points now and then." He smiled then. "Perhaps something in the way of a practical lesson…as in 'hands on?'"
"God damn it, I have had it with your sleazy remarks and crass jokes!" Without warning, Tessa screamed. She raced toward a surprised Wormtail and shoved the little wizard toward the door. Wormtail wasn't prepared for her sudden attack and consequently crashed to the floor and skidded on his backside several feet. Tessa stepped next to him and prepared to deliver a sharp kick to the ribs. Before she could connect, he looked up at her with a devilish countenance.
"I can see straight up your skirt. Nice beaver."
Tessa stepped away quickly and locked her legs tightly together. "You nasty, horrible, ugly thing! You have a face that would stop a clock!"
Wormtail smirked. "Being the c--consummate diplomat that I am, I shall only say that when I look at you, Tessa, time stands s--still!" he voiced as he sprung to his feet.
Tessa took a deep breath to try and calm herself down. She wasn't about to allow a simple dream to irritate her this badly. "You're not really here, Wormtail! You're just a figment of my imagination…you can't really hurt me!"
"Oh, but I can." Wormtail laughed with malicious glee as he placed his arms behind his back and bounced on his heels like a child who was impatiently waiting for a cone of ice cream. "I admit to being d--disappointed in your current attitude, Tessa my sweet! How can you possibly b--believe that our Dreamfasting wasn't real? Haven't I proven myself to you…in more ways than one?" He smirked at her as he blew her a kiss.
"That doesn't work with me anymore. Nothing more than coma-induced fantasy, Wormtail," Tessa answered in a dismissive voice.
"Then why are you dreaming of me right n--now? You're no longer in a coma-induced state. I saved your life, remember? My blood runs through you, Tessa!" Wormtail turned sharply away from the woman and threw open the door of the classroom. He stood in the doorway as he spoke.
"If you need further proof that what you're experiencing is one hundred percent real, look no farther than your chest of drawers. You used to own a very sexy, very black, very skimpy article of clothing." He grasped the door handle and began to close it behind him.
"Wait!" Tessa pondered Wormtail's statement. She knew exactly which article of clothing he was referring to, which startled her a bit. "Wait! I still do own it," she said slowly. " I wore it for Harry after we were married, and--Hey! How do you know about that?"
Wormtail stepped back into the classroom and stood directly in front of Tessa. He fished around in the pocket of his robes and pulled out the item in question. He met her eyes as he shook the garment out and held it up for Tessa to view. He watched as the blood slowly left Tessa's face; she stood before him as white as a sheet.
"It looked lovely on Melissa when she wore it for me. You know, w--when I closed my eyes and ran my hands across her supple, t--tantalizingly hot body, it almost felt like you." Wormtail gave a saccharine smile. "She even let me call her by y--your n--name."
"Oh God," Tessa cried out, fresh tears in her eyes. Her skin began to crawl as she pieced together what Wormtail had done. She pulled at her hair. "You didn't…please say you didn't…"
"OK, I didn't," Wormtail said. His flippant answer and an angelic-looking face covered up his mortification, at least for the moment; he hadn't wanted to share this information with Tessa, but he had to convince her that what she was experiencing was real… especially if he was going to try to warn her again about Voldemort.
He sauntered once again to the entrance of the classroom. At the last minute, he turned around, his facial expression somewhat sad…
"I…uh…am concerned for you, Tessa. Follow the instructions in the l--letter! Please d--do the right thing." As Wormtail said this, he suddenly looked behind him, a panicked expression on his face. He seemed to see somebody Tessa could not. "No! Please…I haven't—"
"What?" Tessa asked, now thoroughly nonplussed.
His body became unfocused and blurry, a swirl of colorful dots resembling a George Seurat painting. "I n--never…please, I d--didn't tell her--" He turned back to Tessa, his face now desperate, all frivolity wiped from his face. He reached toward her. "He's coming Tessa!"
Before Tessa's confused eyes, Wormtail suddenly disappeared with a pop. He was gone.
Tessa ran to the door exited by Wormtail and looked through it, first to the right and then to the left. "Do the right thing? What do you mean by that? Tell me what you meant by that! What letter?" For the first time since the nightmares had begun, Tessa wished that Pettigrew would come back. She did not know how to call him back, however, and this was maddening for her.
It was later in the day that Tessa decided that she had to quell her curiosity about what Wormtail had mentioned in her latest dream. The concept that Wormtail's visits to her as she slept weren't merely bad dreams; that he was truly searching her out with the intent to cause her potential harm frightened her. Harry had gone into town to pick up more formula and nappies for Abigail (the child went through more of those than Tessa thought humanly possible) and Abigail was asleep in her little bassinet. Tessa had the bedroom to herself and ample time to look for a piece of revealing black lingerie. It was the way she wanted it. She didn't want Harry looking over her shoulder or asking questions. Questions would lead to difficult answers, which would undoubtedly lead to more questions that Tessa did not want to answer. Any way she chose to format her responses might cost her marriage, she thought.
Tessa stood before her chest of drawers, her mouth set in a firm line of concentration. Her mindset was determined, yet anxious at the same time. Her hands shook uncontrollably as she placed them on the smooth wooden surface and her fingertips left shadowy prints on the veneer. She stared at the bottom drawer for several moments, but did not kneel down to open it. In her stomach, a twisted knot of fear coiled like a king cobra ready to spring. If the drawer revealed what she feared it might, she thought that her life as she knew it would be over. Had Wormtail been telling the truth about the lingerie or was his story merely an elaborate and annoying dream? Could she afford to sleep peacefully at night again or would sleep continue to be elusive and unsatisfying for her?
She fell to her knees, took a deep breath and opened up the drawer. She peered inside. The contents of the drawer looked perfectly ordinary: there were a few carefully folded nightdresses, a pair of socks and a small brown photo album that Tessa knew contained photos of her parents. She picked up the treasure and traced the gilded edging lovingly. How she wished that her parents were still alive and with her: she could tell them anything and they would help her…even if what she told them might hurt. They always seemed to have the right answers. She wished she had them too.
Tessa placed the book to one side and began to rummage through the clothing. At first she was careful not to place the items in disarray or unfold things unnecessarily. But, as she pawed farther and farther into the drawer without finding what she was looking for, she became more desperate and less inclined to care about a mess. Finally, she was throwing clothing and small items not only out of the bottom drawer, but also out of the other three as well. Her heart was pounding like a jackhammer as she tossed things wildly about the room. Her breath came in tight gasps as the contents of the drawers became less and less and still she hadn't found what she was searching for.
As each drawer was emptied, Tessa's eyes began to frantically scan the contents of the floor. She got on her hands and knees as she roughly pushed items aside, rendering the floor in absolute disarray. It must be here…dear God, if I ask for nothing else, please let me find it…
As the moments wore on and Tessa made her way through the underwear, shirts, socks and nightclothes that littered the floor her, mood became more and more despondent. Tears rolled unnoticed down her cheeks as the comprehension dawned that she wasn't going to find the little black number that she wore for Harry just after they were married. She had worn the item only once and Harry had enjoyed it very much. The tiny scrap of cloth was see-through except in very strategic areas and it was the prettiest piece of clothing that Tessa owned. Rather, had owned.
Tessa pulled her knees up to her chest and buried her head in her arms as she began to cry. Wormtail had not been lying: he had stolen the lingerie during his stint as Edward McMurray and now possessed it; he had forced a prostitute to wear it for him and they had—no, Tessa, she thought, don't go there.
The thought of the demon owning such an item, and doing unspeakable things with it in her name, caused bile to rise to her throat. She felt dirty and used. She knew she could not live with the torment any longer. If she were indeed a Dreamfaster, as Wormtail indicated, she realized that he could beckon her to his dreams any time he felt like it for as long as he was alive.
The downstairs door slammed suddenly, causing Tessa to raise her head in a panic. Harry was home! She looked about herself at the mess on the floor. He couldn't see this, she thought. He's going to think I've gone positively crackers! As quickly as she could, Tessa leaped to her feet and began to pick up the clothes. She threw them onto the large bed and folded as if she were on fire.
She heard footsteps on the stairwell now, coming closer and closer. The doorknob to the master bedroom turned. Tessa spun around and faced her husband, a pair of knickers clutched against her chest. "I didn't hear you come in!" Tessa lied.
Harry surveyed the mess in front of him with one hand on his hip and the other one in his hair. His facial expression was one of puzzlement. "Tessa, what are you doing?" Harry's voice carried a note of concern. "What is all this mess?"
"Oh, I am looking for something," Tessa answered in as cheerful a voice she could muster. "I didn't find it though."
"What were you looking for?" Harry asked. "I could help you look if you'd like."
"I wasn't looking for anything special, sweetheart. It doesn't really matter," Tessa answered. Her voice shook ever so slightly as she said this. Her eyes did not meet Harry's; rather, she continued to look about the floor and bed for a piece of lingerie she wasn't going to find.
"You are obviously upset, Tessa," Harry said. "You're shaking. Now tell me what's wrong!" He held out his arms to her in an attempt to pull her into his arms, but Tessa turned stubbornly away.
"Nothing is wrong, Harry. Why do you always suspect that there's something wrong with me?"
"I think that the first giveaway is the fact that your eyes are red and your cheeks are tear-streaked!" Harry cried. "Something happened to you today, didn't it?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
A red haze of anger clouded Harry's vision momentarily. "Why am I not surprised?!" He said in a voice that rose in volume with rage. "So help me, I've tried to be patient with your unpredictable mood swings. I've been comforting, understanding and helpful. But, Tessa Potter, you're starting to PISS ME RIGHT OFF!"
Tessa did not look at Harry, choosing instead to continue to fold the clothes on the bed. Harry grabbed her by the arm and spun her around. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!" he snarled.
Tessa's mouth opened in an "o" of stunned shock. "Get your hands off me!" she cried, attempting to wrench herself from Harry's grasp.
"Not until you tell me why you're so upset!"
"Harry, I've told you already! I was looking for something and I didn't find it. What I was looking for had sentimental value for me…that's why I'm crying."
"What did you lose?"
Silence.
"What. Did. You. Lose?"
"It was nothing!" Tessa struggled to free herself from Harry's grasp. "It's not important--"
"Talk to me!" Harry screamed.
"No! I don't have to do anything of the sort if I don't want to!" She twisted in his arms, desperate to get away from him and run…anywhere. He couldn't know the shame she felt.
"What are you hiding from me?" Harry growled. "I can see it in your eyes. What is going on?"
Tessa bowed her head and said nothing.
"Talk to me or I get Dumbledore over here and he'll make you speak!"
For a split second, Tessa looked up, thoroughly shocked and frightened at Harry's outburst. Then an invisible wall slipped over her blue eyes and her face reverted back to a noncommittal expression. Harry's idea had merit…
"Fine, go ahead and get Dumbledore, Harry," Tessa hissed.
Harry didn't expect this response. Tessa had called his bluff, much to his consternation. He paled.
"You want to see Dumbledore?" Harry asked, scratching his head. "What do you need to see him for?" he asked, irritated that Tessa obviously did not want to discuss her problem with him.
"I want to talk to Dumbledore about my nightmares," Tessa answered. She looked at the floor for a moment. "They're becoming…well…let's just say that they're becoming more and more real each time I sleep and I'm beginning to have trouble discerning fact from fiction. I think Professor Dumbledore might be able to listen to me with a more open mind than perhaps you will."
"Tell me about the dreams, Tessa," Harry said. "I'm your husband, and I think I deserve to know."
"No, Harry, you wouldn't understand…" Tessa began.
Harry became vexed. "I wouldn't understand? Why not, Tessa? Is it because you think I'm stupid?" His voice was a bit shrill as he said this.
Tessa crossed her arms over her chest. "And this, Harry, is precisely why I don't want to talk to you about the terrors. You overreact to everything. I'd like to have someone listen to me without fear of reprisal!" She watched as Harry's face fell dejectedly.
"You don't love me anymore, do you?" Harry's question, simple and direct, now voiced audibly. Tessa's face crumpled once again into a torrent of tears. "That's right, I don't think you love me anymore. I know about the ring!"
Tessa looked at him, confused.
"That's right," he snarled. "I know all about the ring. When you went into labor, mine glowed at the Quidditch match. I flew straight home as soon as I saw it! Funny thing is that, when I got home, it wasn't glowing anymore. And can you imagine why?"
Tessa's eyes widened. Harry thought she didn't love him because of the ring? Oh no!
"Harry, wait--" she tried to interrupt him, but Harry was in no mood to be interrupted.
"I'll tell you why! I found my token for you in the sink! I mean, you didn't even bother to merely throw it in the bin, where I may never have thought to look. No, you decided you'd just place it in the sink as a twisted little joke." Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "Look, Harry, I've had enough of you. I don't love you anymore. I'm running off with Edward, so don't bother to come and find me—"
"Harry, that's not true at all!" Tessa shrieked.
"Do you know how close I came to writing you off as a lost cause that day?" Harry asked. "You took my love and threw it in the sink! I hated you in that moment, Tessa. So help me, I was trying to be a good husband to you and you were probably laughing at me behind my back the whole time."
"No, Harry! I did nothing of the sort!" At that moment the wail of Abigail could be heard from the nursery. Neither parent paid her any mind. "That ring was in the sink because W--hey, where are you going?"
Harry turned away from the inconsolable woman and marched over to the closet. Throwing open the door, he grabbed a suitcase and threw it onto the bed. He began to shove clothing inside it blindly, not bothering to properly pack.
"What are you doing, Harry?" Tessa whispered.
"I'm doing what I should have done a long time ago," Harry answered stiffly. "I'm leaving."
"What?"
"Your hearing's perfectly fine, Tessa," Harry said. "I've had it with your high and mighty attitude and your secretiveness. You'd rather talk to Dumbledore about your problems than with me, which proves to me that you think I'm too immature to help you through them. I'm nothing but a sexual aid to you, and I have had enough!" Harry snapped the lid on the suitcase shut and brushed past a sobbing Tessa. He moved quickly through the hall and down the stairs, with Tessa on his heels.
He reached the kitchen door and turned the knob in his hands. Tessa grabbed him by the robes.
"Please don't leave me…us," she pleaded imploringly. "Think of your daughter! I--I--I will tell you everything!"
Harry whirled around. "Too late for that, sweetheart," he answered, his eyes blazing with fury. "I will be at the Burrow with Ron. Don't even bother trying to get in touch with me. I might decide to come back, eventually, but right now I need to cool off and think."
"Harry--the rings, you don't understand, I'm trying to--"
Harry's lips were set in a firm line of stubbornness. "There's that phrase again. 'You don't understand.' Tessa, you're the one who doesn't understand. You still haven't figured it out yet." He turned away from her and stepped out the door. "For someone as smart and logical as you are, you can't see the forest for the trees." The door closed behind him with a click.
Tessa sank into a chair at the kitchen table, her heart in her throat. Harry had left her, quite possibly for good. She honestly thought she was going to vomit. She was, for all intents and purposes, alone in the world, save her daughter, in a house that she couldn't leave for fear of being caught by the Ministry and taken to Azkaban. She was a prisoner in her own home and helpless to do anything about it.
Or was she?
Abigail continued to howl, startling Tessa out of her irrational thoughts. She stood up and trudged slowly up the stairs to the nursery. She entered the room and picked up her little girl.
"Oh, Abigail, I'm sorry that daddy and I woke you up," she said as she cuddled the wailing child. She held the child in her arms for a long time, pacing back and forth and rubbing the baby's back. "Shhh…there, there, sweetie…mummy's here."
Abigail continued to cry.
"Are you hungry?" Tessa asked. "Do you want something to eat?" She sat down with Abigail and attempted to feed her. Abigail turned away from Tessa's breast and continued to wail. Tessa sighed in frustration.
"What is the matter?" she cried. "I don't know what you want!" She stood with Abigail once again and made to change her nappy. However, Abigail was dry. Tessa heaved a mighty sigh as she continued to carry Abigail in her arms, trying in vain to soothe her.
I've ruined everything, Tessa thought. No, forget that--Wormtail's ruined everything. Tessa balled her hands into fists. The slimy bastard was going to pay, if she had any say in it…