Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
12: Hit Me
"I suggest," Remus Lupin said as he and his youngest granddaughter sat eying the bottle in front of them in consideration, "that you and I make a deal, Lala."
Pandora stared numbly at the pregnancy detection potion, the deep red hue of the liquid blighting her eyes and making them watery.
"If you tell Mum and Dad what has happened," the werewolf told her, "I will tell your grandmother on your behalf. How does that sound?"
Pandora turned this idea round in her mind.
It made her feel sick.
But it was probably a fair deal. There was no chance her grandfather would agree to tell her parents for her. He had already made it clear that such a thing was entirely out of the question. It was important, he had told her some half an hour earlier when he had arrived back from fetching the dreaded potion from the apothecary, that Pandora took responsibility for her actions right from the very beginning. Because despite everything that had happened, people, or her parents at the very least, would respect her for it.
It was probably generous of him to offer to tell Nana Dora. And Pandora was dreading telling her parents enough already without imagining what Nana Dora would have to say too...
She nodded mute agreement.
"Good." Remus said, frowning at the potion in further thought, and then he said: "When are you going to tell them?"
Pandora gave a terrified little shrug, and felt bordering on faint when he suggested:
"How about this evening?"
"N...no..."
"Why not?"
"Because...!"
"It's not going to get any easier if you wait, Pandora."
Pandora reached to bury her face in her hands, slumping over the table when after a little more consideration he said:
"I'm going to tell your grandmother this afternoon when I go to the hospital."
"Do you have to do it so...so soon?"
"Well yes, I rather think I do."
"Wh...why?"
"Because it's important, and because your grandmother will know as soon as look at me that something is amiss..."
"But...but Nana's got a big mouth! She'll...she'll tell Dad or...or something!"
"Indeed, that's more than likely. That's why you ought tell Mum and Dad this evening before Nana gets the chance."
Pandora let out a muffled wail of protest.
"I thought you were supposed to be helping me, Grandad!" she complained, and as he rose to his feet, reaching to pick up the damning bottle of red potion, Remus smiled sadly.
"I am helping you, Sweetheart." he assured her as he headed for the kitchen. "It might not feel like it right now. But you'll see soon enough that sometimes one must be cruel to be kind."
Pandora stared into the black of her palms as she listened to him pour the potion down the sink and rinse the glass bottle. Then he came to pull on a cloak and she heard him call:
"I'll be back within the hour, Pan. I don't suppose you want to come with me..."
"No."
"Right then. Don't burn the cottage down whilst I'm gone, will you?"
Pandora ignored him.
"Do you think she'll be angry?" she asked dully, sitting up and turning to find him attempting to flatten a wayward strand of grey hair as he glanced in the mirror by the door. "Nana Dora, I mean..."
"Let me worry about that, Sweetheart. You just try to relax...stay inside, alright?"
"Yes, Grandad."
"I won't be long."
His wife was fast asleep when he arrived, a mass of parchment and scribbled notes sprawled across the bed.
Careful not to disturb her, Remus set about carefully gathering up the papers, frowning deeply as he looked down at them...
They gave him an odd sense of familiarity that was not entirely welcome...
The shuffling of parchment roused Dora from her sleep and she blinked sleepily up at him, mumbling:
"Wotcher Sweetheart, any news?"
Remus looked up at her, his grip upon the papers slackening.
"You first." he suggested, certain that he was about to be told something he wouldn't like, and the feeling doubled tenfold when Dora's expression grew undeniably guilty.
"Oh love," she sighed, squeezing her eyes shut. "I...I'm so sorry...I didn't want...it's not what I want, it really isn't! But I...it's just I..." she trailed off with a sniff, reaching to pick up an envelope from the bedside table before holding it out for him to take.
Remus abandoned the papers on the table and took the envelope, eying Dora's name upon the front before turning it round to stare at the purple wax upon the back.
It had been some years since he'd seen purple wax like that.
He reached to slide the letter out of the envelope and unfolded it. The Ministry's insignia had been stamped atop the parchment in purple ink. He read the Minister's letter, feeling entirely unsurprised by each sentence he read, he'd guessed what was coming as soon as Dora had pressed the letter into his hands, and yet by the time he came to stare at Kingsley's signature at the bottom of the page he felt as if his heart had sunk to his shoes.
As if he hadn't already felt dismal enough today...
Dora was crying. Silently, but crying nevertheless.
"Why are you crying?" he murmured, folding the letter back up again and sliding it back into the envelope, and Dora gazed at him bleakly for a moment before complaining:
"Because I know saying yes is the right thing to do."
And Remus knew there and then that she was right.
There were some things in life you simply didn't say no to, he realised miserably, especially when you were somebody like Dora.
That was one of the many reasons that he loved her so much.
It was really rather devastating.
Of course Dora didn't really like being retired. She liked working, liked to have a good and purposeful reason to get out of bed in the morning, liked to come home at the end of the day feeling as if it had all been worthwhile.
But nevertheless she appreciated retirement, the peacefulness and slow pace of it, the suddenly ample amount of time the two of them had to spend together.
It had been rather odd at first, having Dora at home all the time. She'd joked he would be sick of her within a week and would beg her to return to work or, failing that, divorce him. But they had slid into a new routine easily enough and despite her occasional restlessness they both found this different lifestyle an utter marvel.
They had both confessed to sleeping more soundly at night without the constant worry hanging over them that Dora's profession had been quietly blighting them with ever since their marriage had begun. And though she often claimed to miss the Auror Department, Dora had forever sworn that this weight off their shoulders, despite neither of them having been terribly conscious of it when it had been there, was more than enough reason for her to think retirement a blessing.
She had often commented brightly that she had retired on a high and that this was something which was of vital importance to her...
He gazed at the braces clamped around her pale legs, the muscles wasted away and leaving her painfully thin and frail, as if she might simply snap at the knees as soon as stand. He could only imagine what a mental blow the idea of stepping back into Auror Headquarters in her condition was, let alone how she would feel upon actually doing it. She was physically drained and mentally not at all her usual self. Not at all right for somebody about to throw themselves back into a highly demanding job that had been a thing of the past for enough years to let the rust descend.
She was suffering from, and he could admit this to himself now because really there was no hiding it anymore, a depression of one form or another, and, Remus realised grimly, he was not entirely sure what was to be done about it.
Dora Lupin was rarely anything but cheerful.
She had quite the temper, should the fancy take her, and she was known to grumble and mutter on a frequent basis. But even then there was something undeniably bright and all together optimistic about her.
She was unwaveringly hopeful when it came to the important things in life, and when such things went awry she nearly always kept her chin up.
She had certainly, in all the years that Remus had known her, never grown so utterly despondent over something as unworthy as her own physical wellbeing. That, her husband had come to suppose over the years, was a concern that was wholly in his personal domain. Dora would much rather grow anxious or grim faced over his health or that of a close family member. She simply didn't think to worry about herself at all.
She had certainly never allowed injury or illness to drag her spirits so low as they were now. Remus had always marvelled at her for it.
And he'd seen her injured on numerous occasions over the years.
Somehow after the War it had been more shocking.
He could date her first serious post-War injury quite accurately because she had, that morning, been hauled up in front of the Wizengamot on disciplinary charges for failing to turn up for work the previous afternoon. The Head of Aurors had informed her that whilst the department concentrated its efforts on rounding up stray Death Eaters, all days off were cancelled.
Dora had skipped work in order to attend Fred Weasley's funeral anyway, and had proudly informed the Wizengamot that the Order of the Phoenix had not gotten anywhere without sticking together, and consequently upon the day of the funeral she had chosen to stick with them. If the Wizengamot didn't like it, she had explained calmly, they could get stuffed. Then she had waltz unbidden out of chamber and back to the Auror Department.
The Wizengamot, Remus recalled, had been outraged.
They'd given her an Order of Merlin the following month.
That day she had been due home from work at around eight o'clock in the evening.
Teddy had spent the majority of the late afternoon and evening attempting to scream the house down. Remus and Andromeda had taken turns walking up and down the landing with him in an attempt to make him fall asleep. It had exhausted the both of them, in fact baby Teddy had been leaving the entire household exhausted for weeks. Which was why, upon gingerly placing the sleeping infant in his cradle at almost-nine o'clock, Remus had promptly crashed down upon his own bed and fallen asleep without giving Dora's lateness a single thought.
He'd awoken to a nightmare.
There had been a loud thud and a crash that had jolted him awake and suddenly the baby had been screaming and Andromeda had been calling and suddenly Dora's voice had declared to the house at large:
"It's fine! It's fine, I just tripped!"
Remus had flung the cover back from the bed and scrambled to his feet to find his wife lying sprawled upon the floor just inside the doorway, struggling to push herself back up off the floor, scarlet Auror robes mud-splattered and ripped at the hem. He'd rushed to help her up onto her feet, only for her to exclaim:
"No! Just...let me! You just...just see to Teddy..."
Remus had ignored her, hauling her upright, only for her to throw her arms around his neck in what felt like a stranglehold.
"Are you alright?" he'd wheezed as she wobbled about, trying to get her balance, and upon looking her up and down he had caught sight of the fact that she appeared to be missing a shoe.
Her foot had looked like a beater's bat, swollen up to twice its normal size until the joint at her ankle didn't look much like a joint at all.
"Had a little accident." she'd explained nonchalantly as she let go of him, and then she went to sit upon the edge of the bed, half-staggering, half-falling the few meters between bed and door.
"What...what sort of accident?" Remus had wondered, going to retrieve Teddy from his cradle, the ginger-haired infant squirming in his blankets as he was set carefully against his father's shoulder, and Dora had shifted awkwardly upon the bed and shaken her head.
"Oh I don't know...was all a bit of a blur...didn't dodge fast enough, I suppose..." she trailed off with a sigh and then rolled her eyes as she recalled: "It wasn't that bad until I let Carstairs try and fix it! He's only gone and...and fused the bones together! I think...I don't know, but now I can't move it..."
"You should have gone to hospital!" Remus had scolded, feeling alarmed at the tale, and Dora had flopped down upon the bed, holding out her hands to take Teddy.
"Don't be ridiculous, Remus!" she'd yawned widely. "I'm not going to hospital at this time of night, I'm bloody knackered! And besides, I've been missing my boys, haven't I, Teddy? What's all this noise for, hm?! And what's all this ginger on top of your head here? Don't you think we've enough Weasleys to be getting on with?!" And with that she'd slipped the baby carefully out of the werewolf's grasp and set about blowing raspberries upon the squirming child's belly, his wailing promptly overcome by squeals of laughter instead, tufts of ginger hair turning a luminous shade of pink.
Curled up in bed together some fifteen minutes later having gotten the baby back to sleep in record time, she had finally buried her face in the crook of his neck and confessed:
"I didn't want to go to hospital without you."
He'd reached to pull the duvet further over the two of them, free hand reaching to carefully prise her face away from him so he could meet her eye through the darkness.
"I'm sure you'd have been fine, darling." he'd whispered, leaning to press a kiss to her lips, and Dora had frowned and said:
"Well yes, I'm sure I would, only..." she had trailed off with a sigh, jaw clenched as if she felt embarrassed to point out: "Only it could be nasty. It's always a bit hit and miss, isn't it? Sorting out botched healing attempts! I might end up with a...a weak ankle or...or it might be dead stiff for the rest of my life..."
He had been about to murmur something suitably comforting when she'd sighed dramatically and decided:
"I don't suppose there's much point dwelling on it. I can say that now, you know? Because I've had a bit of time to think about it. If it happens...well, it happens! Life can be a right bitch sometimes, can't it?"
"Mm..." he'd mumbled, fingers toying absentmindedly with the hem of her vest, and she'd scrambled to lean upon her elbows, dark eyes suddenly alight with mischief.
"It's really very depressing, you know." she'd informed him in a dramatic whisper, not sounding depressed by the prospect of lifelong injury in the slightest. "I don't suppose you feel up to cheering me up, do you?"
"Merlin, no." he'd insisted, eyes squeezed shut at her fingers sudden attack upon the buttons of his pyjamas, struggling not to grin widely. "Not...not in the slightest..."
"Not even a little?"
"Not...not even that much, no. I'm tired and...and the baby..."
"The baby isn't a valid excuse, Remus. I refuse to succumb to celibacy for the next seventeen years just because we did a bad job of it once!"
"You're ankle..."
"That's not a decent excuse either, unless you think lying down isn't part of the plan." she'd scolded with a snigger, giving an exaggerated gasp as if he might have scandalous plans, only to bite her tongue to suppress a giggle when she found herself pressed back against the sheets, and despite leaning to kiss her keenly he had insisted upon each pause for breath:
"I won't. Do it. Not now. Not tonight. Not like this. You need to...rest."
And at this insistence she had dragged her lips away from his in order to bury her face in his hair in defeat.
"Alright, alright. Fine. Not tonight."
"Good."
"Tomorrow, maybe."
"Maybe."
"Fine."
"Mm."
There had been a sizeable pause and then she had sighed and muttered:
"Stop it."
"Hm?"
"I mean it. Stop."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You know perfectly well. How am I supposed to sleep when my underwear keeps inching progressively closer to my ankles?!"
"I can't quite imagine..."
"So stop it."
"Certainly, darling."
There had been silence for a further few minutes, and then:
"Move that hand again, Sweetheart, and it'll be you lying in a hospital bed come the morning, mark my words!"
He'd been so shocked at the state of her, and yet before he'd known it her injury had seemed entirely irrelevant, just a part of life that she would accept and move on with. And it had been that way for as long as he could remember, she had never grown worried or downcast, no matter how much of a panic she landed him in.
And now he didn't know what to do.
So he held her.
He sat awkwardly upon the edge of her bed and held her in his arms, her chin resting upon his shoulder, and they stayed that way for some minutes, their eyes closed tight, the hospital ward around them fading out of existence until the real world seemed very, very far away.
"I do love you so," he whispered after what might have been several minutes or hours, he had no idea which. "It's such a bother to have to share you. To have you snatched away from me again. But I can't be truly sorry that you must agree to go back. No matter how difficult it is, I love you for your fire. I couldn't love you nearly as much without it, you'd not be the witch I married if you were to refuse to go back."
"I've no fire left." she confessed wearily, and his grip upon her tightened.
"All you need is a single spark, my darling." he assured her, the two of them rocking soothingly back and forth. "Just one minuscule spark, like the nerve to step back into that office! And with a single spark you can set the world ablaze!"
And she contemplated this for a long moment before confessing:
"Well if you think I can do it, my love, I'll probably be in danger of burning the Ministry of Magic to the ground..."
He knew precisely what would spark her courage. But he found lighting the touchpaper a struggle that afternoon. He couldn't do it. Not yet.
He couldn't tell Dora that their granddaughter was pregnant, not until she was at least a little more steady on her feet. Because he could just see her flying into a blazing rage and she'd probably do something foolish, like discharging herself from hospital when she could barely walk to the end of her bed unaided...
And so Remus chose to keep the bad news to himself.
He didn't tell Pandora that he had kept silent, however, and so when he bundled her into the floo to spend a few short hours at home that evening, the girl was sick with nerves.
Teddy, home from the Ministry for dinner before heading out on a night patrol of Diagon Alley, appeared to be in poor humour as Pandora sat down opposite him at the dining table, Imogen sat beside her, and as Carrie set about spooning potatoes onto their plates the Auror muttered:
"It's going to be awful."
"That's not what you said five minutes ago." his wife recalled mildly as Imogen poured herself a tall glass of orange juice. "Five minutes ago you said it was going to be glorious!"
"Well I'm sure it will be," Teddy grumbled, stabbing at a sausage somewhat savagely with his fork. "right up until the moment they actually kill one another!"
"I'm sure they'll come to some sort of understanding." Carrie reasoned as Pandora made a show of pushing her vegetables around her plate.
"Mum will, yes. But Jasmine? Have you seen her lately? She'll be throwing her weight around the second Mum steps back through the door..."
"Jasmine likes Nana, Dad." Imogen pointed out, sounding entirely unconcerned. "You always said they made a good team."
"Well that was then, Imogen, and this is now. They'll have a good laugh over coffee and Mum will do her best not to step on Jasmine's toes, but it'll tip Jasmine over the edge somehow, mark my words! Mum'll say something reasonable and reassuring about not wanting to rock the boat and...and Jasmine will get offended and tell her having a reasonable and reassuring talk is patronising...there'll be no way Mum can win, Jasmine is entirely blind to reason!"
"They'll sort it out between themselves, love." Carrie assured him as she sat down at the head of the table, reaching for her glass of water. "Or Harry will sort them out instead. It's his mess, after all!" Taking a long sip of water, the muggle put her glass down again with a sigh. "Who'd have imagined it, though? Recalling your Mum to the Aurors after all that's happened! What'll your dad say?"
"I don't know," Teddy confessed grimly, and the family lapsed into silence for a moment before Carrie commented:
"You're very quiet, Pan love. Everything alright at Grandad's?"
Pandora mumbled incoherently and made a show of shovelling a generous mouthful of greens into her mouth.
Talk grew steadily more mundane until over a pudding of plum crumble Imogen set about grumbling about work, which had grown especially dull since the attack on Diagon Alley, which had left the Leaky Cauldron short of regular visitors. There then followed Teddy's usual insistence that Imogen consider finding herself a proper career, something which for once Imogen seemed far more keen to give proper consideration.
Meanwhile, Pandora was giving silent consideration to how precisely one went about telling your parents that you were pregnant by Wizarding Britain's most wanted criminal.
Ask them to sit down in the sitting room, her grandfather had said some minutes before he had sent her home, get yourself a nice glass of water, sit down on the sofa and tell them you have something important you must tell them...
The rest of the family migrated to the sitting room without her asking, and so Pandora set about pouring herself a glass of water in the kitchen with trembling hands.
She had to pour herself three because she drank the first two in a vain attempt to wet her bone dry throat. She wasn't sure how a glass of water was going to help her, given the likelihood that her shaking hands would let it slip to the floor and smash upon the carpet, causing further drama.
But she took one to the sitting room anyway. Because Grandad had told her to do so.
Do not attempt to soften the blow or tell them how they feel about what you have to say. Tell them frankly and honestly and do not allow them to dishearten you. It doesn't matter if they cry, shout, scold you or say the most unthinkable of things. Have cast iron faith, Pandora, that your parents love you, no matter what you've done...
She set the glass of water down upon the coffee table with a little more force than was necessary, sloshing water out onto the woodwork, but made no effort to wipe it away. She dropped down upon the sofa next to Imogen, sat bolt upright and informed her parents upon the other chair:
"I have...I have something to tell you. And...and it's important."
Both her parents and her sister paused in their absentminded chatter to turn and look at her...
And suddenly her mouth was bone dry again.
Pandora reached for the glass and took a trembling sip of water, concentrating furiously upon the cool wash of water slipping down her throat.
"What is it, love?" Carrie asked, leaning forward a little in her chair, and Pandora was forced to gulp a few more mouthfuls of water, her father's eyes upon her making her narrowly avoid choking.
I want you to look Mum and Dad straight in the eye...
Pandora glanced nervously from one parent to the other, clutching the glass of water in both hands, before managing to confess:
"I...I..."
Remember, they want what is best for you. And if you are in trouble they want to know about it...
"I'm...I'm in...I'm in trouble."
They want to help you.
"B...big trouble."
Teddy and Carrie exchanged a glance.
"What sort of trouble?" Teddy asked as Imogen pursed her lips together curiously, and Pandora was forced to take another gulp of water, the icy splash down her throat jolting her sense just enough to allow her to half-squeak:
"I've done something really, really stupid!"
Her father offered her an encouraging smile.
"So have most people, Sweetheart. I'm sure..." he began, only for his daughter to insist:
"No they haven't! Not...not like this!"
There was a long silence, before Carrie shifted a little uneasily in her seat, hand reaching to rest upon Teddy's knee.
"Well whatever it is, love, I'm sure you can tell us all about it. I'm sure it isn't as bad as you think it is!"
"What if it is?" Pandora asked, feeling her eyes begin to water, and her mother smiled uncertainly and said:
"Then you can tell us anyway. That's what Dad and I are here for."
Pandora glanced doubtfully at her father, before drawing in a deep, determined breath.
Because sometimes, she realised, there was no nice or delicate way of saying things. Sometimes things were far too sour to be sugar-coated.
"I'm..." she started, only to struggle to form the final two syllables of her confession. She had been having trouble with them right from the very beginning of her suspicions. It was a particularly troubling word to utter out loud; pregnant.
But she had to say it. Before they tried to say something for her, before they started guessing all sorts of horrible things that weren't nearly horrible enough and would make it all seem infinitely more dreadful.
Pandora took another sip of water. Then, unable to quite look at her father, she looked her mother square in the eye and mumbled:
"I'm p...pre...pregnant."
The instant atmosphere that clouded the room could have been cut with a knife.
Everybody was silent.
Carrie's grip upon Teddy's knee had tightened until she was digging her fingernails into his trousers, her mouth hanging open ever so slightly as she struggled to process the shock. Imogen, who had been lounging back upon the sofa, had sat bolt upright, eyes darting back and forth from her sister to her parents as if awaiting some some of explosive argument to erupt.
Teddy appeared to be going purple.
After several decades, his hands having curled into tight fists, the Auror leant slowly forward in his chair, his expression bordering on murderous.
His youngest daughter had never seen a look of such fury in all her life. It was the sort of expression a girl might assume a man's face lost the ability to contort into upon becoming a father.
Because fathers were not supposed to look at their children like that.
"Pregnant?" the wizard breathed, each letter pronounced so precisely that it made both Carrie and Imogen flinch.
Pandora managed a feeble nod and a sniff, tears streaming down her cheeks, and then her mother failed to suppress a sobbed:
"Oh god...!"
"When?" Teddy asked, leaning ever further forward, and Pandora looked down at her socks.
"J...just...just after...after Valbona came..." she snivelled, feeling little if no reassurance when Imogen reached to slide a protective arm around her shoulders. "I...J...Jeff and I were...we were tidying up b...before you came to t...take me home and we...he...that was the...f...first time..."
"The first time?!"
Pandora buried her face in her hands, peering out at the room through the gaps between her fingers and before she could whisper any sort of response her father had risen abruptly to his feet.
"Ted!" Carrie hissed, reaching to grasp the back of his robes, only for him to wrench himself free and storm towards the sitting room door. "Come back!" Carrie told him, but he ignored her.
Pandora thought of reaching to grasp imploringly hold of his arm as he swept past her, but all she managed was a feeble:
"Daddy...!"
The door slammed shut so hard behind him that it seemed to come slightly loose from the hinges.
Pandora dissolved into tears, slumping sideways against Imogen's shoulder and as the older sister flung her arms tightly around her, their mother insisted:
"Keep calm, Sweetheart."
"'M s...sorry!" Pandora wailed as Imogen set about rocking the two of them back and forth, grip something of a stranglehold. "I...I d...didn't...I did't m...mean f...for..."
"Imogen," Carrie instructed, sounding remarkably calm. "Go and put the kettle on and...and pour your father a large firewhiskey."
Imogen shot her mother a look that suggested she thought this a slightly ludicrous request, but nevertheless she disentangled herself from the weeping teenager and shuffled towards the door.
Carrie regarded her youngest child despairingly for a long moment before telling her:
"Come here, Pan."
Reluctantly Pandora rose to her feet and stumbled over to sit at her mother's side, and the muggle reached to pull her into a firm hug, the squib's face buried in her shoulder.
Within seconds they were both crying.
"Oh, Pandora!" Carrie sighed, eyes screwed shut in a futile attempt to keep the tears at bay. "What are we going to do with you?!"
"S...sorry..."
"Silly girl!"
"Sorry..."
"I thought we'd...we'd get this sort of bombshell from Imogen, not you!" Carrie was forced to grit her teeth against further hysteria, struggling to try and think clearly enough to whisper: "Shh. It's...it's alright. It's going to be alright. We'll sort this out. You and me and Dad. We'll all sort it out. As a family, alright?"
"G...Grandad knows."
"Does he?"
"H...he's t...told Nana!"
Carrie sighed heavily,
"Well that's one less thing to worry about then, isn't it?"
"He said I...I had to tell you else...else Nana might."
"Well you're very brave, Sweetheart. Very, very brave. I couldn't have sat my parents down and...and told them something like this if it had happened to me!"
They lapsed into a watery silence for a long moment, punctured by the odd sniff and sob, before Pandora asked:
"Does Dad hate me?"
"No. No, love, he doesn't." Carrie whispered, heart sinking even further in her chest at the thought of Teddy's fury. "Dad hates a lot of things right now. But you're not one of them."
In the kitchen, Imogen was leaning against the countertop, staring at the back of her father's head as he stared out of the back window.
"D'you um...d'you want a drink, Dad?" she asked a little tentatively, wincing when he said:
"No."
"There's some Ogden's in the cupboard..."
"No."
"Tea, then? Mum said to put the kettle..."
"No."
Imogen chewed upon a nail in deliberation for a long moment before wondering:
"What're we going to do?"
"I don't know, Imogen!" Teddy snapped, finally looking round so that he could scowl at her. "I don't bloody know what we'll do! Just...!"
"I'll go, shall I?"
"Yes! No! I mean..." Teddy reached to bury his face in his hands, sucking in a deep breath before his arms went limp and he asked the witch:
"How did I get this all so...so very wrong?! What is it that I've done as...as a father that's so bloody awful that...that my sixteen year old daughter has grown up thinking behaving like...like that with a...a bloody twenty-something year old man is somehow acceptable behaviour?! How did she come to think that...that shagging some bloke who's far too bloody old for her with...without a...a single thought for the consequences was a sensible idea?!"
"Young people are...are pretty stupid sometimes, Dad..." Imogen mumbled, eyes upon the floor, and Teddy cried:
"She's not just young though, is she Imogen?! You're young! But she's a...a child! She's a bloody child, for Merlin's sake and...and he's...he's...how bloody old IS he, anyway?!"
"I dunno...twenty three? Twenty four, maybe..."
"He's a bloody pervert, that's what he is! He's a perverted, manipulative, evil little shit! And now look what he's done! He's...he's ruined her!"
"This isn't the Middle Ages, Dad..."
"He's ruined her! She was perfectly bloody normal and..and innocent before he got his filthy hands on her! Sweet Merlin...! The thought of it! It makes me want to vomit!"
As he turned to lean heavily over the sink, Imogen's nose wrinkled in anticipation, but nothing happened.
"In all my years, Im," he whispered after a long moment of attempting to catch his breath. "I have never, and I mean never, hated anyone so much in my entire life."
"I'm sure the Auror Department'll have him rotting in Azkaban before you know it, Dad." Imogen told him, gingerly going to set the kettle to boil, and to her surprise her father let out a hollow chuckle.
"Oh no, Imogen. I don't mean Jeffrey Fawley. There are a load of twisted, nasty, sick people out there just like him. The world's got plenty of them." Teddy's head hung so low that his forehead came to rest against the cool metal of edge of the sink. "We're supposed to protect our children, Imogen." he recalled, voice strained from his previous outburst. "That's what we do. We watch over our children, we teach them the skills and knowledge they need for life and above all else we protect them from harm! My parents...! My mother and my father! They've fought a war to keep me from harm! They've let their lives be driven into all manner of chaos in order to keep me safe! They've fought battles, they've moved from house to house, they've landed themselves in debt and stood up to the likes of Voldemort and unjust governments for...for me and for children the country over! They've watched over me my entire life, they still do it now if but from a distance! I've never come to any serious harm on their watch! And they make it all look so...so bloody simple! And here's me! Stood here with...with my daughter's world in shreds! And who sent her to that bloody society in the first place?! I did!"
The kettle whistled shrilly and for a moment Imogen simply stood staring at it in consideration. Then she reached to take it off the stove.
"Protecting your children from the likes of Death Eaters is, in a way, a lot more simple than what you're up against." she mused as she poured the steaming water into the awaiting teapot. "It's not precisely a subtle threat, is it? The prospect of Death Eaters bursting through your front door."
Teddy managed a soft huff.
"Indeed." he murmured, and the two of them lapsed into silence as Imogen went about making tea, pouring him a cup despite his insistence that he did not want one.
For the first time in days, Pandora slept at home that night.
She fell asleep upon the sofa with her head upon her mother's shoulder and awoke in the early hours to find the room dark, her mother and sister away to bed, and a blanket draped carefully over her where she lay.
And there sat in an armchair was her father, wide awake and gazing at her through the darkness.
Teddy Lupin had, despite his morphing abilities, taken a lot after his father where appearances were concerned. They were bordering on the same height, had the same shaped face, the same lips that curved into the same smile, the same posture, same long fingers...
He chose his mother's dark eyes and compared to Remus at the same age he was positively barrel-chested, his build overall more solid, and when stood next to Remus now, when the werewolf had grown so frail and thin, Pandora sometimes forgot how alike they really were.
But she could see her grandfather now, in the way Teddy sat tapping his long fingers upon one knee in silent contemplation, in the mild expression of thought upon his face, in the way he pursed Remus' lips together and leant back in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him so that he could examine his shoes.
He had noticed her eyes were open and that she was watching him, Pandora was sure, and she felt compelled to break the silence that hung over the room. Nothing inspired sprung to mind as a beginning to a conversation post-dreadful confession, so she mumbled:
"I thought you were on night shift."
"So do Harry and Jasmine." Teddy murmured, lips twitching towards a smile, but not quite stretching far enough.
"Oh." Pandora said, chewing upon her lower lip as she shuffled to sit up a little. "Will they be cross when they find out you're throwing a bunk?"
"They'll have grounds for my permanent suspension if Diagon Alley goes up in flames tonight." Teddy said, rather as if this was of no serious consequence at all.
"Oh." Pandora said again, eyes widening in alarm. "Well...well shouldn't you...you know..."
"Go to work? Yes. I should." Teddy leant back in his chair, yawning widely.
"Does Mum know you're not there?" Pandora asked, sitting up straight upon the sofa, and the Auror gave a low chuckle and asked her:
"Do you suppose I would still be here if she did? Don't look so agitated, Sweetheart. Nana Dora won't let them sack me..."
"Nana Dora hasn't been reinstated yet!"
"What's that got to do with it? I seriously doubt something as trivial as having no absolutely authority whatsoever would stop her..."
Their eyes met through the darkness for a brief moment and before Pandora knew it they were both laughing and Teddy had risen from his chair, crossed the room in a few short strides and dropped down to sit upon the sofa next to her.
"Come here, you silly thing." he whispered, reaching to pull her into a tight hug, very nearly knocking the air from her lungs. "Do you think I could think to go to work right now after the evening we've had? I'd be about as observant as a troll, they're probably better off without me!"
As she buried her face in the front of her father's robes, Pandora felt her face warming in embarrassment, only for Teddy to murmur:
"You're not to take the blindest bit of notice, Pandora, of earlier. I...well I...you gave me quite the shock..."
Pandora thought this was possibly the understatement of the century, but she chose to remain silent.
"I'm not going to lie, Sweetheart," her father went on wearily, "I've never been so...so disheartened in all my life. I never thought in a million years I'd...I'd ever have one of my girls land themselves in a...in a mess like this. I am deeply, deeply disappointed in you. It's a very difficult thing for a father to deal with. But at the end of the day, Pandora, I am your father, you are my daughter and no matter how foolish you are or how many mistakes you make, I love you with all my heart and soul. Nothing is ever going to change that. No number of...of mistakes or arguments or...or tantrums from either of us is ever going to make the slightest bit of difference to how I feel about you deep down. You can always rely on me, no matter what. And we'll find a way to...to make the best out of this...this situation. And when we come out the other side, whenever that is or...or however that might be...when we do we'll be stronger for it."
"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger...?" Pandora whispered disbelievingly, and Teddy muttered:
"In a manner of speaking."
"Nana Dora says that's..."
"Utter bollocks. I know. But that wholly depends on what sort of a person you were to begin with. Some people crumble and some people grow nerves of steel and hearts that beat like war drums. Ironically, Nana Dora is precisely the sort of person whom persistent strife has left bordering on immortal."
"Grandad says she's jaded." Pandora recalled grimly, and Teddy smiled sadly and whispered:
"There's no doubt Grandad's right, Sweetheart. But I won't give up on her yet..."
It was at that precise moment that the fireplace briefly burst into a frenzy of emerald flames, causing both Teddy and Pandora to jump, and a bright red envelope was spat out into the sitting room, flying across the room until it landed at a Teddy's feet.
The envelope started to smoke.
"Oh Merlin..." Teddy began to mutter, instantly reaching to clamp his hands over his ears just in time for the Howler to burst into flames and a familiar voice screeched:
TED LUPIN! WHERE THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU?! THE WIZENGAMOT'LL HEAR ABOUT THIS, I'M TELLING YOU NOW! AND WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU, I SWEAR TO MERLIN I'M GOING TO HEX YOU INTO THE MIDDLE OF NEXT WEEK...
The middle of next week arrived and upon the day in question, the reporters of the Daily Prophet had their work cut out.
Because shortly before sunrise, Jeffrey Fawley had struck again, in a way nobody had quite expected.
"Bloody hell..." Dora Lupin muttered as she stared down at the front page of that morning's Daily Prophet, and as he slung the satchel of her packed belongings onto his shoulder, her husband murmured:
"I know."
PAN'S ARMY SEND FRESH WARNING TO WIZARDING BRITAIN IN NEW DISPLAY OF AGGRESSION!
UNNERVING REMINDER OF SILENT THREAT DELIVERED RIGHT UNDER MINISTRY'S NOSE!
"Harry's going to be livid." Dora observed grimly as she frowned down at the newspaper.
"Yes, I daresay he shall." Remus agreed, holding out a hand to her. "Shall we?"
"Let's." the witch agreed, tossing the paper back down upon the bed beside her, and with that she took his hand and set about heaving herself up onto her feet, teeth gritted a little in effort to stand straight. After a few moments of shifting her feet uncertainly, the pair set off towards the ward doors, one small step at a time, she leaning heavily upon a sturdy walking cane she had begrudgingly been presented with some days earlier. The walk to the nearest apparation point, the witch mused grimly, was going to be a painfully slow one.
She tried to focus on something else.
"You've got to admit," she said as she carefully put one foot forward, the shifting weight making her leg quiver, "it's a clever move on Fawley's part."
"Very symbolic."
"Yes. And you know what this means, don't you? It means he's got people. Followers."
"Yes, there's no chance he could have pick-pocketed that many wands all by himself."
"I bet he wasn't even there. I wouldn't go skulking around Diagon Alley with the Aurors on watch like that if I were him. He must've sent a load of other people to do it." As they passed awkwardly through the doors out into the corridor beyond, Dora wondered: "It didn't say how many wands they found, did it?"
"No, but a bagful...! They must've pick-pocketed half the wizards in Diagon Alley!"
"Bastards. People must feel bloody violated!"
"There's no doubt."
"I tell you what, he might've gotten other people to steal the wands for him, but I bet he sat up half the night snapping each one in half all by himself..."
"You make it sound like some sort of Satanic ritual, Dora!"
"Well it might not be Satanic, but it is a ritual, Remus. It's ritualistic in nature because he's creating a cult. And cults are threatening to outsiders, there's no doubt about it."
"He wants a media frenzy. He wants symbols that can be blazed across newspaper headlines, his own mark to stir up panic."
"Precisely. And he'll get it, too, dumping a bagful of snapped stolen wands on the Daily Prophet's doorstep! If that's not a symbol of his intentions towards us, I don't know what is!"
They rounded a corner to find themselves faced with a flight of stairs, and at the sight of them Dora squeezed her eyes shut and muttered:
"Merlin, I think I'd rather just go back to bed..."
"I'd carry you, only I've got this bag here..." Remus began hesitantly in an effort to coax a smile to her lips, and she let out a snigger only for a voice from behind them to boom:
"I carry you, yes?"
Dora turned stiffly to look round at the enormous figure striding down the corridor after them, and as Valbona Luga came to a halt in front of them, Dora confessed:
"You've got uncanny timing, Val."
"I wait at the house to see you." the half-giant said as she unceremoniously swept Dora up off the floor, the motion making Remus wince. "So do the newspaper reporters. Someone must have told them you leave hospital today."
"Great." Dora muttered dully, going somewhat limp at the news and as Remus led the way down the stairs the werewolf asked:
"They didn't see Pandora was there, did they?"
"No, I tell her to stay away from windows. I tell reporters to clear off else I transfigure them into the leeches they are! They ran away down road and one of them dropped his camera, ha! But they will be back, yes? They want to stick Dora on the front page of the Evening Prophet!"
"Oh goody." Dora muttered.
True to Valbona's word a large cluster of news reporters had regathered outside of the Lupin cottage when Remus, Dora and Valbona arrived some fifteen minutes later, and as they made their slowly up the garden path towards the front door, Dora's grip upon Remus' arm tightened.
"Here we go." she muttered as the first few eyes came to rest keenly upon her. "Brace yourselves..."
"Mrs Lupin!"
"Mrs Lupin, a couple of words for the Evening Prophet!"
"Have you anything to say about the latest attack this morning?!"
"Will you be returning to your post at the Ministry immediately?!"
"How do you feel about being recalled out of retirement?!"
"You look very frail, how do you feel?!"
"Are you well recovered?!"
"Do I look bloody well recovered?!" Dora shouted above the incessant barrage of questions as she set about shouldering her way through the crowd. "Sod off, the lot of you! I've come home to rest, not hold a bloody press conference in my front garden!"
"Does the Ministry have plans to hold a press conference today given recent events?!"
"Have you already been officially reinstated?!"
"What does your granddaughter think about you returning to work?!"
As Remus hastily unlocked the door, Dora turned to scowl at the collection of quill-grasping witches and wizards, and as a camera snapped a photograph the witch snapped:
"Nobody with half a brain gives a toss what my sixteen year old granddaughter thinks about how I choose to spend my retirement! Least of all me! Now go and bother somebody else! I hear there's a kitten stuck up a tree over in Devon somewhere! If you don't hurry up you'll miss all the drama!"
And with that, she shuffled inside, Valbona stepping in after her, and the Auror turned round and promptly slammed the door in their faces.
They found Pandora cowering in an armchair, having drawn all of the curtains across the windows.
"Alright, Pan love?" Dora greeted as she shuffled stiffly towards a chair. "This is a bit awkward, isn't it? I've led them straight to you!"
"They've not seen me." Pandora said, springing to her feet, and with that she rushed forward to throw her arms around her grandmother, hugging her tightly.
"Good!" Dora said, patting the girl a little gingerly on the back.
"I'm glad you're home, Nana." Pandora murmured, face buried in the witch's shoulder as Remus set the bag down upon the table by the window.
"Me too, Sweetheart. Can't stand hospital food!"
Pandora managed a vague titter, only for her grip upon Dora to tighten as she whispered:
"Have you...have you seen the Prophet this morning?"
"I have, yes." the witch pressed a firm kiss to the teenager's head and murmured: "Don't fret, Pan. It's nothing."
"I make us tea, yes?" Valbona suggested, striding towards the kitchen, and as Pandora drew back from Dora, Remus muttered:
"Is that really wise?"
No sooner had the three Lupins had a few moments to contemplate this question, there came a loud crash from the kitchen and a muffled:
"Oops!"
"Why don't you go and help, Pan?" Remus suggested meaningfully. "Nana and I need a little word."
"Right." Pandora said, shooting her grandmother one last almost-smile, and with that she hurried towards the kitchen.
Remus led Dora carefully into the master bedroom, closing the door firmly behind them as she set about easing herself down to sit upon the edge of the bed.
"Merlin," the witch muttered, tone instantly darkening once behind closed doors. "I feel utterly exhausted."
"A comfy bed and a cup of tea ought set you right." the werewolf assured her with an encouraging smile as he came to take the cane from her, resting it up against the wall beside the bed. Once his wife had carefully lifted her legs up so that she could lay back against the pillows, however, his expression grew equally as bleak.
"Darling," he murmured, perching upon the edge of the bed at her side, hand coming to rest upon her metal-framed knee, "there is something important that I must tell you, now that you are home. It's...it's rather awful news, I'm afraid. It's...it's about Pandora..."
Dora examined his expression for a long, despairing moment, before sinking further back against the pillows, her gaze drifting up towards the ceiling. She sighed heavily, rather as if she had been expecting this conversation right from the moment he had appeared to escort her home earlier that morning, as if by now receiving awful news was just part of her daily routine, and steeled herself for whatever it was he might say next.
"Let's not bother pussy-footing around," she told him after a sizeable pause. "I've had quite enough of all that at Mungo's."
"I'm not sure I could pussy-foot around this one if I tried." Remus confessed, and though she frowned, his wife said:
"Good. So, go on then. Hit me!"
Five minutes later the front door to the cottage was flung open, causing the waiting reporters to jump, scrambling to grab notepads and cameras.
"Alright!" Dora Lupin announced as she took a step forward, cane slamming down upon the front step with far more force than was strictly necessary. "Listen up! I'm only going to say this once! Yes, I have been called out of retirement by the Minister for Magic and Head of the Auror Department. Yes, I will be returning to my post at seven o'clock sharp tomorrow morning, at which time I will be officially reinstated..."
"Any comment on Jeffrey Fawley's recent actions, Mrs Lupin?" one reporter called excitedly from somewhere towards the back of the crowd, and Dora leant forward to look the nearest reporter straight in the eye as she announced:
"I've got him marked. Tell him he had better start running."
And with that she stepped back inside and slammed the door shut.