A/N: First, a few apologies for getting this chapter out later than I intended. I am traveling until 9th July, so my schedule is bonkers. I am going to try to post as close to on time until I'm home, but it might mean only one chapter at a time.

Thank you for your patience! See my Tumblr page for updates.

...

1 January 1980

Dora woke early on New Year's Day to retch violently into an empty cauldron. She was ten weeks into her pregnancy, and while the Healers promised she would feel better soon, the last few weeks had been filled with nothing but nausea. These weeks happened to coincide with the length of her marriage to Rabastan Lestrange, which had been its own source of revulsion. She'd been spared from touching him once in the last two weeks, when she had a particularly miserable bout of sickness a week after they were married.

Otherwise, she spent every night allowing him to touch her before slipping him a few drops of Draught of Living Death. With a tricky charm of her own making that prevented her from touching him any further, he ejaculated onto himself. Most nights she vanished the ejaculate, if only to let him think they'd actually had sex.

She felt a little more broken each time she repeated the routine. She found it a necessary evil to keep him from having sex with her, but it came with the knowledge that she was doing something to him that was as repulsive to do to another human being without their consent as it was to see it unfold. However, she couldn't stomach the reality of having sex with him, even if it was loveless and forced.

Rabastan snored loudly on his side of the bed, uncaring that Dora had dry heaved noisily into the cauldron. She suspected he would be hungover or still drunk. The Malfoys had hosted their annual New Year's Eve gala the night before, and while she'd lost count of how many drinks he'd had, it wasn't enough to keep him from groping her. She winced, spitting into the cauldron at the memory of his tongue in her mouth.

"Kreacher?" Her voice was hoarse and raspy. She'd relied on Kreacher for weeks; pathetically, he had been her biggest help in the first several weeks of her pregnancy. The ancient elf appeared with a pop, and eyed Rabastan carefully.

When Dora and Rabastan were first married, Kreacher was delighted to welcome another "worthy" pureblood master to the home. Yet with the amount that Rabastan drank and his vicious attitude towards house elves, Kreacher had come to loathe his new master.

"Mistress calls for Kreacher?" said the elf, bowing deeply for Dora.

"Can you get me the Anti-Nausea Potion, please? And whatever potions I'm supposed to have this morning?"

"Anything for Mistress and the little heirs!" declared Kreacher, and he vanished with another soft crack.

Dora wheezed, almost laughing at how devoted Kreacher had become to her. Although Rabastan was vile, the prospect of two pureblood heirs outweighed the inconvenience of a drunken master. Even Walburga was surprisingly pleasant lately. While initially appalled that Dora had become pregnant out of wedlock, the quick marriage into the Lestrange family and the news of twins cheered her considerably.

Kreacher returned with the requested potions, and once she'd consumed all of them, she began dressing herself. She was careful to lock the bathroom door to keep Rabastan out. He had the unfortunate habit of assuming she wanted to have sex with him if she wasn't yet dressed, so she had to take more extreme measures to keep him away from her.

A glance in the mirror showed that her baby bump was growing nicely. If she had been pregnant with a singleton, she might not have noticed it yet, but the twins already expanded her midsection. She held a hand to her bump and tried to keep from crying at the sight. She wanted to show Remus how their children were thriving; she wanted him to place his hands on her and feel the lives growing within.

Rabastan didn't care that she was pregnant. He boasted to anyone who would listen that a single night was all it had taken to produce two heirs. Where his older brother Rodolphus failed in producing an heir for the Lestranges with his wife Bellatrix, Rabastan bragged that his manhood finally brought honor to the Lestrange family. He didn't care that that Dora felt wretched from her twin pregnancy. He didn't care that he was going to be a father, even if it was all a fabrication of Dora's invention. He'd fulfilled his family duty to marry and produce an heir; all that remained was to take pleasure from Dora's body and bask in his fecundity.

Because of the Lestranges' immense wealth, Dora was told in no uncertain terms that she would not be working as an Unspeakable any longer. A career was a distraction for a young witch before she married; now that she was married and pregnant, Dora's only task was to gestate, birth, and raise her children. This had been particularly difficult to swallow, as it meant she had almost nothing to do but sit around with the women in her family and pretend she cared about their gossip.

When Dora felt presentable, she went downstairs to eat, and thought about the days ahead. She had two more days before she saw Remus. She'd see him the day after the full moon, on the third of January. He'd be tired and recovering from his transformation, but he'd be with her and she with him. The expectation of seeing him soon was one of the few things that kept her spirits up.

Her mood dampened slightly when she walked into the dining room. Walburga, Druella, Narcissa, and Bellatrix were having breakfast together. Beside usual spread of foods, there were several stacks of parchment. Her face fell, seeing the hard, pointed expression on Bella's face, Narcissa's cool, steady eyes, and Walburga and Druella's excited whispers.

"Good morning," Dora said uneasily, and the four witches laid eyes on her.

"You're needed here, Dora," Walburga said, a little too cheerily.

"What's all this?" Dora asked, as she walked over to the space between Walburga and Druella to find several documents prepared for her.

"This is a proposition," Walburga said. "We've been discussing an arrangement with the Lestranges…as you're having twins, we've discussed that one should inherit the Lestrange property, Wizengamot seat, and vault, while the other will inherit everything the Blacks own."

"But I already own everything? I'm the heir for the House of Black, last I checked," Dora said, confused.

"You are, but if you have two sons, one can carry the Black name and the other, the Lestrange name," Druella drawled. "I thought you were brighter than this."

"I understand what you're saying, but there's no way of guaranteeing I'll have sons. I could have two daughters – does the same agreement apply?"

"It can, if you'd like," Narcissa interjected. "We'd like to ensure that our family is accounted for properly."

"You mean if I somehow die and leave everything to my children and nothing to the rest of you?" Dora said drily. "Or if Rab dies, I remarry, and someone who isn't in our families inherits everything?" She fought to keep from revealing that once all the Lestranges were dead, she'd marry Remus and distribute the gold to him, the Tonkses, and Sirius.

"She should've been a Slytherin," Cissa said under her breath to her mother, Druella.

"I'll divide the assets wisely," Dora said impatiently. "I don't think it's a bad idea for each kid to get a seat and inherit different things, but I'm nowhere near ready for those decisions."

"This isn't a negotiation," Bellatrix spat abruptly. "The Dark Lord himself has asked for you to review the Lestrange estate." A chill went down Dora's spine; she was sure that because the Lestrange vault contained a horcrux, Voldemort wanted to know who it would go to if something happened to the adult Lestranges, as Dora's children would inherit everything. If Dora didn't promise a way to keep the horcrux in the right hands, Voldemort might remove it before she had a chance to destroy it. She sat down reluctantly to look at the documents, beginning with the Black estate.

Everything relating to the Black estate was straightforward. The documents were as she left them when Orion died in October; she had other plans for the vault, Wizengamot seat, and Grimmauld Place when the war was over, but that time had not come yet.

The Lestrange estate, on the other hand, was eye-watering. Dora saw the vault's value for the first time and her jaw dropped – almost half a billion Galleons lay within. The Lestranges were easily the wealthiest wizarding family in all of Britain; by Dora's estimation, they were worth close to 2.5 billion British pounds. Due to the extreme wealth, Bellatrix supervised the process. She was to ensure that the fortune would stay in pureblood hands, with clauses added that would nullify inheritance based on marriage or blood status.

Dora was disgusted that a marriage to anything "less" than a half-blood would automatically disown one of her children. If her children didn't marry properly and produce "suitable" heirs, the fortune was set to go to the next best family: the Malfoys. Narcissa was especially pleased at this prospect, until Walburga and Bellatrix snapped at her, saying it would be a crime against pureblood supremacy to wish the Lestrange children would become blood traitors so the Malfoys could have more gold.

Dora signed everything dutifully, and now that she knew what to expect when the Lestranges were killed, she had a better idea of how she'd split the funds and reassign the estate according to her wishes. The amount of gold the Lestranges held was truly obscene, and she promised herself she'd split the fortune as soon as she was able.

The documents were put away just as Rabastan, still half-drunk, came lumbering into the dining room.

"My little minx," Rabastan said huskily, planting a wet kiss on Dora's lips. He smelled strongly of alcohol and she nearly vomited again from the stench.

"Good morning, dear," Dora said politely, struggling to swallow the bile in her throat. "Do you mind if I have breakfast with my cousins and aunts?"

Rabastan's eyes glazed over, eyeing the witches gathered in the dining room. He grunted an assent, kissed her, and stepped out of the dining room with a basket of pastries for himself.

"It's going well, I see," Cissa said, lifting an eyebrow at Dora.

Dora fiddled with her thumbs, staring down at the table without quite seeing what was in front of her. She took a sip of water to wash out the taste of his putrid breath and said, "He's very…affectionate."

"He'll be a good father, if he's good to his wife," Druella said. "He is good to you, isn't he?"

Dora mumbled a hasty "yes" and returned to her breakfast. She let the others descend into whatever pureblood gossip mattered that day – the Parkinsons recently had a daughter and the Crabbes were expecting a son – while she nibbled on her toast. She wondered if, after the war, she and Remus might spend time in America with the Scamanders.

Lately, she thought of abandoning the entire war against Voldemort and living a happier, simpler life elsewhere. A part of her longed for a calmer life; she wouldn't have to pretend to be anyone but herself. She wouldn't be risking her life every day, and she wouldn't be married to a lecherous drunk. She could be free and leave Dumbledore to end the war. If she'd never traveled in time, she wondered who else would've taken the responsibility of defeating Voldemort. Harry came to mind, as did Dumbledore…but the idea of either of them trying to break into Gringotts for the Hufflepuff cup horcrux was laughable.

Dora was drifting off into a daydream of living in America with the Scamanders, surrounded by magical creatures, when her name was called loudly.

"Pandora, pay attention! We asked you if you'd decided on any names," Walburga said impatiently. "Especially now that one will bear the Black surname."

"Oh…umm." Dora set her fork down carefully and dabbed at her lips with a napkin. "Atlas is nice for a boy…one of Saturn's moons. He can have his father's name. If there's another boy and he has the Black name…maybe Leo? Is that all right, Cissa?"

"Cissy, stop being such an insufferable twat and tell us what you'll name your brat," Bellatrix snarled.

"Be quiet, Bellatrix," Druella snapped. She turned to Cissa, and with a similar expression of impatience, said, "She doeshave a point, Narcissa. You've been insufferable."

"He'll be called Draco, won't he?" Dora said softly, as Cissa nodded. "Draco Lucius Malfoy…I reckon he's going to look a lot like his father." She bit her lip, thinking of how long she could keep the knowledge of her children's true father away from the family, as whatever children she had would look nothing like Rabastan Lestrange.

"He'll be so handsome," Narcissa said dreamily, putting a hand on her baby bump. "Our little Draco."

"If I have another boy and he's a Black, I'll call him Leo Regulus Black and his brother will be called Atlas Rabastan Lestrange," Dora decided, shuddering. She hated that Lestrange was her surname now, too. "If it's a girl or two…I haven't given it much thought."

"Let's take that as an omen you're not having any girls," Walburga said, eyeing her small bump. The others toasted to twin boys, and Dora sighed. She didn't care what she was having, so long as they could be raised unburdened by war and pureblood ideology.

Rabastan came back into the dining room to take more food. While he was bent over Dora, reaching for scones, Walburga cleared her throat.

"Rabastan, what do you prefer? Sons or daughters?"

"One of each," Rabastan replied, through a mouthful of scone. His openmouthed chewing left spittle on the table, and wet crumbs on Dora's shoulder.

"Really?" said Druella, astounded. "Why?"

"A son to carry my name and a daughter because Crabbe owes me a favor," Rabastan said absentmindedly. "He's having a son and we can marry them off. He'll pay whatever dowry I want for her."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room at his admission. He didn't seem to notice the silence, however, and retreated back to one of the parlors with several scones in his robe pockets.

"Well, it certainly wouldn't be a bad thing for our children to know each other," Cissa said evenly. "Or get to know other children from good, pureblood families."

Dora slipped into a daydream, wondering how her children would fare while the war went on. She knew it was only a matter of time – no more than two years – before the Potters would be targeted, if they were targeted at all. She knew a prophecy lay in wait somewhere, sometime in the next two years. It would pertain to Harry Potter, assuming he was on his way to life, and it would shape the course of history.

She wondered how it would all end if the prophecy was never made or heard. She wondered how soon the Lestranges could be killed, or how soon she could steal the diary horcrux from the Malfoys' grasp. She wondered how old her children would be when the time came to defeat Voldemort for good.

Until all of this happened, she had no choice but to wait. No other period of time had ever been so cruel.

…..

2 January 1980

It was the night of the full moon and Dora could hardly contain her excitement that she'd be seeing Remus the next morning. Weeks had passed since they last saw each other, and not even another "family" dinner with Voldemort and the other Lestranges could sour her attitude.

"Married life must be suiting you, Pandora," said Voldemort, once they'd all taken their seats in the dining room at Lestrange Manor. "You seem pleased."

Rabastan stuck out his chest and took Dora's hand, kissing the back of it. He turned to her with darkened, lust-filled eyes and said, "My wife lives to serve me. I'm the reason she's so bloody chipper."

"What you always wanted, no?" Voldemort said, facing Dora. "To produce heirs for a noble line…this is the task of all those whose blood is worthy."

"I'm looking forward to motherhood, my lord…to raise my children with others like us." Dora pushed around the food on her plate, feeling nauseous again, as Voldemort launched into a soliloquy on the supremacy of pureblood witches and wizards. While he spoke, Dora focused her mind on her children. It was a safe choice for her thoughts in case Voldemort performed Legilimency on her. She let herself sink into a daydream on little fingers and toes, button noses, and heads full of soft, fine hair. She sighed contentedly, settling into the thought of holding her babies in several months' time.

She felt a flicker of intrusion in her mind, but it left as quickly as it appeared. She glanced up to see Voldemort's face contorted; it wasn't quite a grimace, but it wasn't a happy expression.

"Is there something wrong, my lord?" Dora asked uneasily, wondering if her thoughts had revealed anything untoward.

"You think of your children often," he said softly, almost accusingly.

"'Course she does," Rabastan boasted. "Good family witch I've got."

Voldemort said nothing and returned to his vitriolic opinions on a perfect, pureblood society. Not daring to dwell on his odd comment, Dora turned her thoughts to the Scamanders, who she hoped she'd see when her children were born. Though they weren't her true grandparents, she'd come to see them as such.

Mosby, the Lestranges' house elf, came around to clean the plates after dinner. Dora looked forward to going home, as pregnancy made her tired, but Rabastan had other ideas. He wanted to go out for drinks at the White Wyvern, one of his favorite haunts of his bachelorhood.

"I'm tired, dear," Dora said, feigning a loud yawn. "I won't be able to drink, you know."

"Then come with me to keep me company. That way everyone will know I'm taken."

"Can't you just tell them you're married?"

"It's not the same without a pretty witch on my arm." Rabastan leaned down to capture her lips with his and moaned into her mouth. "Everyone should know what I get to come home to every night."

He continued kissing her, ready to pin her against a wall in the corridor outside the dining room, when she gave in to his desires.

"Fine – we'll go," she said irritably. "But I only want to stay for a little while."

Rabastan grabbed her by the waist and took her to the Floo and they went through together to Knockturn Alley, where the White Wyvern was located.

He wasted no time in announcing to the pubgoers – many of whom recognized him immediately – that he finally settled down with his "little witch." She stood silently at his side while he told the barman that she regularly gave him the best sex of his life. She almost gagged, hating to be put on the spot, and took a seat next to him to nurse a glass of water.

She spent the next hour being groped by Rabastan, who eagerly showed off her slightly swollen midsection as proof of his virility. He placed wet kisses on her neck, his stubble scratching at her skin, and regaled his drinking mates over the wild nights of passion they'd shared since they were married.

"Perfect woman I have," bragged Rabastan, holding her by her hips. "Devilishly good in bed and silent during the day. Every bloke's dream." He stuck his tongue down her throat, bringing his hands down to her bum, when a scuffle broke out behind them.

Two cloaked figures were drunkenly fighting each other. She wanted to step in, Auror that she was at heart, but Rabastan swaggered over for her. He struck one of the cloaked figures, knocking over a table in the process, and a fight ensued.

The barman whipped around from behind his station and separated them. The cloaked figures were banished from the pub, while Rabastan, bloodied and victorious, walked confidently back to Dora.

She could take no more of the drunken behavior and the atmosphere. She hastily kissed Rabastan good night, claiming the fight had been too much for her to bear, and tipped the barman generously to keep the drinks flowing. Rabastan was too handsy when he was drunk, but there was a point at which he would drink himself into a stupor and leave her alone. She hoped he'd reach that point and return home too drunk to do anything but pass out in their bed.

One cloaked figure remained in the alley near the White Wyvern. It began approaching her, limping erratically, and she broke into a run, terrified someone was after her. She reached an empty alley and Apparated back to Grimmauld Place, her heart racing with the stranger's behavior.

As soon as she was safely inside her home, she tore up the stairs to take a hot shower. She reeked of alcohol and Rabastan's body odor; if she was to see Remus the next day, she wanted to smell as unlike Rabastan as possible.

After spending an hour scrubbing her skin raw, she fell into bed, looking forward to seeing Remus in the morning.

…..

3 January 1980

Dora was unsurprised when she woke alone the morning after the night at the White Wyvern. She supposed that Rabastan had drunk himself into unconsciousness, and that he was asleep somewhere in the house. If she was very lucky, he might have forgotten to come home to Grimmauld Place and had slept at Lestrange Manor instead.

She took her time in dressing herself, knowing she would see Remus later that morning in Dumbledore's office. It was as close to a neutral meeting place as they could find. Though she wanted to kiss him senseless and show off how much she'd expanded with her pregnancy, she admitted it was better to have a tamer, shorter visit. Now that she wasn't working, her family bristled when she decided to go anywhere alone for more than garment shopping. The abrupt lack of freedom was one of the many infuriating consequences of being married to Rabastan Lestrange and living under the same roof as Walburga Black.

She smoothed her robes, glad to have chosen an outfit that accentuated her growing bump, when her jaw fell open upon seeing who was in the dining room. Mad-Eye Moody, decidedly not Rabastan Lestrange, was waiting for her.

"Mad-Eye?" she gasped. "Is it really—"

"—be quiet, lass," he growled. He swished his wand in an arc, producing an incorporeal Patronus, and sent it off with a message to Dumbledore. "Talking to her now" was the cryptic message he sent, and Dora began worrying what was wrong.

"Your beastly Aunt Walburga is being cared for by the elf," Moody said gruffly, while his magical eye whizzed in its socket. "Sit down – we need to talk."

"This doesn't sound good," said Dora. Mad-Eye grimaced at her, his lopsided mouth curling downward.

"It isn't." He sat down on one of the chairs, and Dora followed suit.

"First thing you need to know – Dumbledore and I are working to make this right."

"Can you tell me what it is? I'm starting to panic here," Dora said, trembling.

"Your 'husband' – Rabastan – is dead. He's been murdered."

Dora's eyes flew open. She put a hand to her mouth, unsure if she should feel relief that he was dead or worried that someone might target her, too.

"W-who killed him?"

Moody sighed heavily, looking as if he wanted to spare her the truth, but he revealed it anyway.

Remus Lupin had murdered Rabastan Lestrange.

"WHAT?" Dora's vision went blurry with the news; something cold and heavy settled into her abdomen. She knew that Remus and Sirius were told about the plot to kill the Lestranges but nothing had been planned for Rabastan, to her knowledge.

"What happened?" she demanded, her breathing shallow and uneven.

"Last night was the full moon."

"No. Not…please tell me he didn't…" Images of Rabastan, torn open and bloodied, next to Remus, covered in blood and entrails, suddenly flashed in her mind.

"We're investigating what happened. Last night Black and Lupin were sent on a mission to the White Wyvern—"

"No," she gasped. "I was there – I was with Rabastan."

"That's what Black told us. Lupin saw you with Lestrange and didn't take it well – Black had to fight him off."

Dora clapped her hand to her mouth, understanding that the scuffle that broke out wasn't because of two drunkards, but because Remus was trying to get to her in a jealous rage.

"Black fought Lupin off enough to get him to safety. He Apparated them back to their flat, but Lupin didn't stay."

"What did he do?" Dora whispered, terrified of the answer.

"Came back to find Lestrange and tried the Killing Curse on him."

Dora gasped, unable to imagine Remus saying the hateful incantation that would end another's life, even if it could help win the war.

"Didn't work," Mad-Eye added brusquely, after taking a sip from his flask. "Bloodied Lestrange up decently, but not enough to kill him. Lestrange came for Lupin, but that's when he realized the moon was rising. Lupin Apparated to a forest he knew was safe for his transformation, but took Lestrange with him. Lestrange got Splinched – too drunk to Side-Apparate properly – and left a leg in Knockturn Alley. He couldn't run or move, so when Lupin transformed…"

"He killed Rabastan."

Mad-Eye nodded, grunting in confirmation, and shifted his claw foot aside.

Dora quaked in her seat; the Killing Curse alone was enough to earn Remus a one-way ticket to Azkaban. Death as a result of a werewolf attack – even if Remus had been trying to avoid it – couldn't have any lighter of a sentence. "What's going to happen to Remus?"

"If we're lucky, life in Azkaban," Mad-Eye said. "If we're unlucky, he'll be executed or Kissed."

Dora burst into tears instantly. She knew it was all her doing – if she hadn't married Rabastan or been anywhere near him, Remus would've never been in a position to hunt Rabastan down and kill him.

She wept violently at the table, clutching her midsection, as the realization washed over her that it was unlikely Remus would survive to see his children. It was her fault entirely for the entire debacle. Their children would grow up without a father as a result of her reckless, single-minded vision to end Voldemort's reign of terror. She felt she was as good as Remus's executioner, as she had been the reason behind his catastrophic actions.

Walburga burst through the door, her hair flying about her face, nearly frothing at the mouth with fury.

"A HALF-BREED KILLED MY SON-IN-LAW! FOUL, EVIL, SOULLESS MONSTER!"

Dora stopped crying momentarily, watching Walburga scream obscenities at Mad-Eye for allowing anything to have happened to Rabastan.

She was uncannily like her portrait image from Dora's first timeline, and the absurdity of seeing her throw a tantrum at Mad-Eye was almost enough for Dora to temporarily forget her distress.

"KILL THE BEAST! EXECUTE THE BRUTE!" Walburga pointed her finger into Mad-Eye's chest, poking hard with each syllable. "THAT SWINE MUST BE ELIMINATED!" Dora began sobbing once more; she knew that if Walburga was this furious over Rabastan's death, the other Lestranges' fury would be even worse.

"DON'T YOU SEE?" Walburga shrieked. "MY NIECE HAS LOST HER HUSBAND! HER CHILDREN WILL GROW UP WITHOUT THEIR FATHER!"

Dora cried harder still; she feared she would never see Remus alive again.

"Calm yourself, madam!" Mad-Eye barked. He towered over Walburga now that he was on his feet; his large, imposing presence seemed to subdue her ire. "We are doing what we can. I require Mrs. Lestrange to accompany me to the Ministry for a full account of what she saw last night."

"She is in no state to go any—"

"—I'll go," Dora interrupted, wiping fat, salty tears from her cheeks. "If it helps…I want to go."

"You don't have to go," Walburga snapped. "You're hysterical. You're in no state of mind to go."

"I have to go. I need to go…please…I have to do what I can."

"You really did love him, didn't you?" Walburga was uncharacteristically quiet and gentle with her question. Dora nodded, thinking only of Remus.

"I have to go," Dora repeated, meeting Mad-Eye's gaze. "I'm going." She hastily said goodbye to Walburga and followed Mad-Eye out of Grimmauld Place. She found no solace in the fact that she would still be seeing Remus on that bitterly cold, January morning. She would have given anything – including all future visits with him until the war was over – to keep him from his virtually guaranteed execution.

Instead, all that would remain of Remus Lupin were his children, who he would never get the chance to know.