Author's note: Me? Crawling back to these two and writing angst when a deadline is on the horizon? It's more likely than you think! Anyways, enjoy!

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the canon, world, and characters portrayed below and you can tell I'm not J.K. Rowling because #transrights

Hogwarts: Assignment #10, Brewing Task #4: Write a fic with a canon mother as the main character (their child does not have to be featured)

Warnings: NA


I Can Still Be Good To You

And I know this isn't enough,

I still don't measure up

And I'm not prepared;

Sorry is never there when you need it

And I do want you to know

I'll hold you up above everyone

And I do want you to know

I think you'd be good to me

And I'd be so good to you

-"Good to You," Mariana's Trench

"I need a break," Dora said, burying her head in her hands and taking a long, deep breath. "I… I know we need to talk about this more, I know we're not done, but it's 2:00 a.m. and I need a break."

Remus nodded. They had been sitting at their kitchen table for hours now, since she had stopped yelling at him in the doorframe of their flat after he had shown up again–nauseous and nervous and ashamed, but knowing that the alternative was worse. Knowing that the alternative, of walking away forever, was something he could never live with. He had known even before he had gone to find Harry, Ron, and Hermione of course, but it had taken Harry yelling at him to realise that if he had put himself between a rock and a hard place… well, the hardest thing would be to lose Dora. To abandon… Well, whatever this baby they were going to have to be.

"Okay," Remus said, knotting his hands together. "Do you work tomorrow?"

"No, thank Merlin," she said, running a hand through her hair as she got up.

"I'll take care of the dishes," Remus said quietly, referring to the teacups scattered on the table before them.

"Okay," Dora said. There wasn't much expression in her voice. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," he replied.

She slipped away and went to shower off the day, turning on the radio she'd charmed with a water-repellant spell before plugging into the bathroom so she could blast Weird Sisters albums as she brushed her teeth and changed into pyjamas. He knew her routine well.

He collected their teacups and went to wash them, along with all the other dishes she had accumulated in the sink during the twenty-six hours that he had been gone. Snatches of their conversations today fluttered around his head. You're lucky you came back on your own because I still hadn't decided if I was going after you. Stop apologizing and fucking explain yourself. I thought you were fucking dead. Do you not trust me? This isn't going to work if we don't figure things out. I can't bear to lose you, but I can't love you out of hating yourself. What is wrong with you? I'm not going to agree with you that you're some monster, stop trying to make me leave you! Did you really think that getting yourself killed was the most useful thing you could do for our child? I'm trying to understand, help me understand. I'm listening, I swear I am! The warm water, the smell of dish soap, the sound of sloshing water couldn't keep him from replaying bits and pieces of the longest and worst conversation of his life in his head.

Eventually, no matter how slowly he watched each piece of silverware and each container he had sent lunch to work with her in, he ran out of dishes and there was nothing left to do but drain the sink. He chewed on his lip nervously. She hadn't told him he could stay, and he wouldn't blame her if she wanted him gone, but… well, he didn't have anywhere else to go. Grimmauld Place was obviously occupied, the Yorkshire Cottage was run-down now that he wasn't living in it and stopping it from collapsing in on itself on a full-time basis, and he couldn't imagine turning up at the Burrow or anywhere else where he would have to explain himself. He had spent last night marauding around and haunting the twenty-four-hour diners and coffee shops he knew well, paying for black coffees in small Muggle change. But Dora had been right, they did need to talk more. Remus didn't feel like he had fully explained himself, like she fully understood how badly it hurt him when she didn't take his fears seriously, how anxious he became when she tried to love his problems out of him and it didn't work. More importantly, he knew for a fact that he hadn't earned her forgiveness back–and that made staying in their flat feel… Well, all kinds of ways.

So Remus picked up a sponge and reached for the cleaning potion under the sink and he set about scrubbing the sink–and then the counters, the stovetop, and every other surface in the kitchen. He reorganised the cutlery drawer and checked the expiration dates on everything in their fridge and emptied the toaster's crumb-catcher. He was sweeping when Dora appeared in the doorframe, legs bare, floating in a t-shirt several sizes two big for her. She had put her wedding ring back on her finger–possibly out of habit after showering–and her magenta hair was flat on one side, as if she had been curled up on her side trying to sleep.

"Are you okay?" Remus asked quietly. For whatever reason, her morning sickness came late in the evening and early in the morning. He hadn't realised that's what it was before she'd told him she was pregnant, but he had connected the dots over one of the cups of coffee it had taken him to clear his mind and stick his courage to a sticking place.

"I couldn't sleep," she said simply.

"Am I making too much noise?" Remus asked self-consciously. "I can settle down on the sofa…"

"No, without you," Dora said. "I couldn't sleep without you last night, and I can't sleep now. And I'm going to wake up to puke in a couple of hours, so can you come to bed if… if you want."

Remus held the broomstick so tightly, his knuckles turned white. "Yes. Yes, I… I'll come."

"Okay," she said. She chewed on her bottom lip. "Okay…"

She held out her hand, and he took it, and she brought him back to their bedroom and handed him one of the sleeping shirts she particularly liked because it was especially soft. Remus pulled it on and got into bed next to her, and she snuggled against him. The motion was familiar, even if she wasn't chatting about her day or humming a song as she usually did. It was familiar enough for Remus to think that… well, maybe there was still something here they could work with. Maybe he could still be good to her, and maybe she would let him try again. It was still a 'maybe' in his mind when he fell asleep to the sound of her breathing, but sleep he did.


WC: 1134