WARNING: READ THE STORY "A LIFE TO LIVE" FIRST, UNLESS YOU WANT TO HAVE IT SPOILED. THIS IS THE PREQUEL, SO IT REVEALS MANY IMPORTANT THINGS.
Molly woke up in the middle of the night, clutching her stomach tightly. It was very swollen, as were her fresh breasts, filled with the miracle of life. Her eight months pregnancy was very apparent, and it had been a very troublesome pregnancy. With her previous five children it hadn't been so difficult. So she thought at least, remembering with precious nostalgia the time she had been pregnant with her other children, all boys. Charlie had been the worse, apart from this baby. The boy had decided to rest against a nerve, making her right leg stiffen for many days, so she wasn't able to move. Charlie's little joke had been occurring throughout the whole nine months he had been in her mother's stomach.
But this time, it was much worse. Molly had been awful across the months, getting better only to decay again. It was a cycle, like a menstruation. At first she had been throwing up her breakfast, and her lunch sometimes. The feeling of sick had accompanied her through certain nights, but she had discarded it as being normal to many women in that state. However, as the baby grew inside her, the woman began having worse states of sickness. She threw up copiously, after feeling a feral hunger and stuffing herself bloat. Sometimes a sharp, needling pain stabbed her abdomen, not so hard and brute as a contraction, or a worrying pain, but enough to make her gasp sometimes.
Tonight, however, it as something horrible. Molly woke up, the full moon was glimmering in her pale eyes, being absorbed by the black retina as it expanded with a deep, profound comprehension, that only dawned in her subconscious. It was the same kind of comprehension that would shine in her baby's eyes, when the age of seventeen reaches the youth. Terrifying and sweet, exciting and frightening, and expanding a whole, vast field of opportunities.
The woman felt nauseous. The sour taste of bilis filled her mouth, as a violent spasm shook her body, from the root of her stomach to the chest, making her loose her breath momentarily. Molly pressed a hand against her mouth, as the sides of her face inflate with the pressure of vomit, mixed with air expulsed from her lungs. The mature woman kicked the blankets aside and raced towards the bathroom, feeling those familiar pains trespassing her abdomen, yet ignoring them.
She released her breakfast into the sink, and gasped, panicking. A metallic sensation filled her throat and mouth, remains of something that had passed through those conducts, but which was now gone. Floating oily and unsteady, mixing artistically with the yellowish green of the empty stomach, was a deep crimson fluid. Blood. A large mouthful of blood laughed at her tremulously from the sink, filling her with terror.
Suddenly, when Molly thought things couldn't get any worse, she felt a terrible pain stabbing her like a murderous blade. It started in the depths of her abdomen, expanding through the rest of her stomach, and crawling up her back. It was almost like a burning sensation, a million coals torching her veins, her skin, her flesh. Molly gasped loudly, and bent over, clutching her stomach with a constricted hand, affected by the terrible suffering such that the fingers curved like claws. The woman collapsed on the floor, and she knew with horrifying security that this was no contraction.
Something warm and humid slithered down her legs. It was sticky, fluid, lacking the liquidness of urine, yet not its bodily warmth. The woman reached down, thinking that maybe she was having a premature birth, and the amniotic liquid was trickling down her legs. Yet fear almost made her faint, her already pale face was drained of all colour, of all blood as, yet again, the crimson monster attacked her with vice. Now this was worrying, for her baby, and maybe she herself, were in danger. It was not normal to bleed before giving birth, and doing such meant problems.
"A…A…A…" Molly gasped with desperation, her breath having abandoned her making things more difficult.
"ARTHUR!" she managed to call out, gathering all the strength her motherly love could manage.
There was a loud tossing and rustling of blankets, while Molly inhaled deep gulps of air with pure exhaustion. A loud bang echoed through the air, and the stomping sound of galloping feet, resembling the frantic canter of a mustang, floated through the darkness. Immediately, a slim, slightly bald man, reached the room, soon followed by a flood of flaming, red hair, that darkened visibly into a golden brown in the shadows of the night.
"Molly? What's wrong?" Arthur kneeled on the floor next to her.
The man stopped when his hand touched the cold tiles that formed the ground. Warmth, sticky humidity. He raised his hand to find it stained in blood, a pool of the lively fluid which had bloomed under his wife's seat. Molly stared at him fearfully, she had tears in her eyes, was very pale, and shook, not coldly, only frightened.
"Take me to St. Mungo!" the woman pleaded with a weak whimper.
"Mommy?" One of the younger boys, not older than two, hugged his brother as he broke in tears.
"Is mommy going to die papa?" asked a young Percy innocently, as his eyes welled with salty liquid.
"Kids! Go to bed! Mommy is going to be all right!" Arthur had not pretended to be so harsh, but he was nervous.
"But papa!" an older youth whimpered clutching his hands, and fidgeting nervously.
"Charlie, to be!" Arthur ordered more severely now, while gripping his wife's hand tightly, "William, take care of the boys while I'm out!" the man told his older son.
The old boy, approximately being twelve years old, nodded understandingly and strolled outside of the room, guiding his brothers away. Once alone, Arthur used all his strength to lift the woman, who wasn't very light, but now had the weight of a pregnancy added. With that, he carried her downstairs, situated her into the passenger's seat of a rusty, old, Ford Anglia, and started the motors and engines, ready to soar through the skies with the speed of lightning.
Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
Molly was laying on a white bed at St Mungos, in the Maternity Area of the hospital. The pain had subsided, the bleeding had long dried down, and the nausea rested fortunately. She was still nervous, frightened for she ignored the reason of this terrible disease, or whichever it was. The woman was half naked as the doctor practiced a magical ecography, which would allow him to see the baby inside with the quality of a video camera.
Arthur was standing next to the doctor, as the first images began to flash into the monitor, yet the bulk of their bodies hid the vision from the female patient. A gentle beeping sound signalled that everything seemed to be apparently all right inside the womb, and that the mother herself was fine. However the results of the ecography would discard inner damages that might have provoked the bleeding.
Arthur and the doctor gasped rather loudly, startling Molly. Whatever they where expecting, it was definitely not what they were seeing. Very rare indeed, not impossible, but very exclusive, and there had to be some antecedents in the family.
"What is it?" Arthur asked fearfully, yet a slight blush of shame crept in his face.
"Is my baby all right?" Molly inquired, now getting nervous, and attempting to see the image.
"Don't move, lady, your baby is fine!" the doctor said, smiling gently through his glassed eyes.
Molly obeyed as the doctor resumed to explain what they where seeing, and the possible causes. The neonate might have seen normal at first glance, but a closer inspection revealed some abnormalities in the shape. The nose was abnormally long, and seemed to fuse strangely with the mouth, the feet were very large as well, and were shaped with four fingers, of almost equal size. A little appendage, like a tiny tail, was curled against the tiny legs. To make things stranger, there were some threads of very thin hair that fell down the creature's arms and legs, apart from the weak tuff on the head.
"Mr. Weasley, er… there is nothing wrong with the baby!" the doctor tried to explain nervously, ruffling his mane of wild, black hair.
"What do you mean? It has a tail!" Arthur bellowed pointing at the magical screen, where the baby yawned and revealed an abnormally large mouth.
"Tail? Arthur what's wrong?" Molly was now starting to grow hysterical, this had been a terribly hard night.
"Nothing is wrong, Mrs. Weasley!" the doctor tried again, placing his round glasses back in place, "It's just your baby is suffering of a rare genetic inheritance!" the doctor smiled at the woman.
"What kind of inheritance?" Molly was panicking, fearing her baby might have some kind of syndrome.
"Let's say how I put this… er... your baby is…" the doctor ruffled his black mane again, "A lycanthrope!" the young man finished shrugging and smiling sheepishly.
"A werewolf?" Molly yelled, and glanced at Arthur, who recoiled against the screen monitor.
"Calm down, Mrs. Weasley, it's nothing bad. You have been suffering those terrible pains and nausea during full moon, because the baby was suffering them too. And now that the baby has fully developed, the wolf has too, so he is taking control of the child's actual weakness." The doctor explained with a proud smile.
"Once the baby is born, there is a period of recess, that means that the wolf will remain asleep until the baby becomes an adult teenager (a teenager, but who has reached the adult size). However the instincts are still there, and will be visible, for the baby is as much wolf, as the wolf is human." The doctor commented vividly.
"But the baby will be a werewolf afterwards, right?" Arthur quivered lightly, he knew it was his fault, there was werewolf blood in his line, but had hoped that his grandfather's inheritance would never reach his children.
"Yes, but there is nothing wrong with being a werewolf!" the young doctor seemed almost insulted by the suggestion of prejudice.
"I know! It's just I fear my baby will become a murderous assassin!" Arthur moaned, while Molly whimpered lightly.
"Oh, do not fear for that. Most born werewolves manage to control the wolf, since they have grown with it!" the doctor answered with a broad smile, and a mysterious glint glimmered in his brown eyes.
After a second of thought, Arthur smiled and nodded. His grandfather had been a great man, and he was sure the baby would not have any problems either.
"Well, whenever you wish, you can go home!" the doctor clasped his hands together and beamed at the couple, who were more relaxed now.
The young doctor aided the woman to stand from the white sheeted bed. The doctor placed one feeble kiss on the woman's hand and congratulated her effusively for her pregnancy.
"And you know, if you have any more problems, as well as if the birth is on a full moon, send me an owl!" the doctor shook Arthur's hand vigorously.
"Thank you Doctor…" Arthur said, trying to get the man's name.
"Potter, Doctor Ronald Potter!" the man said with a proud smile, "specialist in Lycanthrope!"
Arthur frowned lightly and tilted his head to one side. Confused was the least of his state, he was an absolute dilemma. Sure this was not James Potter, the man he knew from the Order. If he had a brother or not, Arthur didn't know. Shrugging off his doubts, the red headed walked with his wife to the car.
"How will we call the baby?" Molly inquired more tranquil and excited, now that the doubts and the danger had passed.
"Ron!" Arthur answered firmly, smiling to himself very proudly about being the father.
The End.
AN: Ok, have you read A Life to Live? You can still do it, and I'm sure it won't deceive you. Did you like the story? Didn't you like it? It was something I thought I'd do. It didn't turn out so bad, in my opinion. I'm not too good at one shots. I hope you enjoyed it .