Take a moment, relax, try to inhale

And imagine that everything's fine

Before you notice your life start to derail

Just remember the future's still bright.

So I'll give what I got whether they like it or not

I'm not changing the plot to my story

I've got brains, I've got heart, and I've got plenty of time

So why should I be scared of two little lines

- Two Little Lines, Kasie Gasparini

Sardines For Dinner

Monday

Remus feels the duvet being dragged off him, and hears a clatter as something drops to the floor. He peels his eyes open.

"Sorry," his wife mutters, not turning around to see if she's woken him. She crawls to her feet and staggers out of the room. Remus has never been in the type of person who needs a couple of seconds to remember where he is if he wakes up in a new bed. He remembers straight away that this is Charlie Weasley's bedroom at the Burrow. Last night, after Remus and Bill had returned, glasses were drained and plates empty and a sad tiredness had set in inside the Burrow, everybody had solemnly headed to bed. With Kingsley with the Prime Minister and Moody dead, nearly everyone who'd be involved in Harry's movement from Surrey was living at the Burrow, so Molly had insisted that Remus, Tonks and Hagrid stay over too. Remus reckons that Molly was right when she told them that after planning for nine people to stay overnight, adding three more didn't matter much, even a half-giant. Arthur had shown Remus and Tonks up to Charlie's old bedroom, which still contains a range of cages, branches and tanks (Remus reckons he saw a frog climb out from under the bed last night). Mr Weasley had found two old of pairs of Charlie's pyjamas, then said a sombre goodnight and shut the door. Tonks, who had been silent most of the evening, immediately sank into the bed and started to cry. Remus had sat beside her and lifted her onto his lap, rocking her gently as she sobbed into his chest. Mad-Eye's death had unmoored him, but he had to remain stoic for her. Tonks and Moody had been family, almost, or at least as good friends as Mad-Eye was with anybody. She should have known better than anybody that he wasn't invincible, but the cruelty of his death, blasted out of the sky on what was a seemingly low-risk operation, had stunned everyone.

Eventually, Remus had persuaded her to put on Charlie's pyjamas and climb into bed. She'd burrowed into Remus' chest and, when her tears had subsided, she started telling him stories about Mad-Eye. The first time they met, the time he left his eye in her boot, the argument they had about Circe Hodgkinson, the card he gave her when she passed Auror training, in which he wrote his initials and nothing else.

"No even a 'To' or 'From'," Dora explained with a tearful laugh.

It had been past three in the morning by the time Remus feel asleep. Now, he can hear Tonks staggering into the bathroom next-door and slamming the door so hard the walls shake. He winces at the notion of the day ahead. Mad-Eye's death seems worse in the morning light. Remus is certain that the Death Eaters will have got hold of Moody's body. Chances are they'll mutilate it, burn it or leave it to rot. Worst case is that they'll publicise their victory. Killing Mad-Eye Moody will make the Death Eaters look strong, Remus thinks, then notes that that's the sort of tactical observation Moody would have made.

"Wotcher," says a faint voice. Tonks has reappeared in the door way. She's clammy and her body looks small and swamped in Charlie's old pyjamas. She wipes her mouth with her arm.

"How are you?" Remus asks softly, gesturing for her to come back into bed.

"I was sick,"

"That happens sometimes," he explains, holding a hand out. He wants to pull her close and stroke her hair and make her feel safe, "It's the shock, don't be-"

"Will you stop talking to me like I'm a child?" Dora snaps, "You do my head in,"

Her words land heavily for a moment. Then she droops, stumbles to the bed and mutters, "Sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't sleep and I've just been sick and I..."

She flops against Remus' side. "I knew that I wouldn't wake up and it hadn't happened, but I hoped. I never imagined he'd die. I thought about it if it was you or Mum and Dad or the Weasleys, but never him," she whispers.

Very gently, Remus presses his lips to her hair. "I know,"

Dora scrubs a tear from her eye, and he wraps his arm around her shoulders.

"He hated crying. He used to tell me off from crying," she says, half-laughing, "He didn't have a clue what to do when I was crying over you. Totally hopeless,"

He wasn't the only one, Remus adds in his head.

Tonks sniffs and continues, "I didn't get to say thank you to him. We didn't say that kind of stuff to each other; he wasn't like that,"

"No, he wasn't,"

"There was so much I had to thank him for," she murmurs. Remus knows that feeling well. Things left unsaid. Conversations he didn't have time to have with James and Lily, and words which were too difficult to say to Sirius. Confessions and apologies he was too ashamed to admit to his mother.

Then Dora says thickly, "I was sick yesterday morning,"

"What?"

Tonks buries her face into his neck, so her voice is muffled when she elaborates: "Before work. You were still in bed. I didn't tell you 'cos I didn't want you to freak out before last night,"

Remus feels her press a tearful kiss to his neck as she mumbles, "I'm sorry,"

"Don't be,"

It isn't important, really. Dora's right- he'd have felt concerned about her vomiting, and he'd have been uneasy about her participating in the task, and she'd have insisted that she wanted to come, and they'd have argued. They argue a lot, Remus reflects dejectedly. Nine times out of ten it's Dora wanting to do something and him not wanting her to do it. He understands why she didn't want to have another one of those awkward, stressful disagreements.

"Maybe it was my stomach trying to tell me something bad was going to happen," Tonks suggests, then corrects herself, "Nah, that's stupid. Mad-Eye would hate me thinking that,"

"He didn't have time for Divination?"

She peels her face away from his neck. "He'd have slapped you for that. Used to tell me that one's science and one's superstition, and only idiots get them muddled,"

She smiles, then turns grave. She presses her forehead against Remus' and clutches him tightly.

"I'm going to miss him so much".


Tuesday

Tonks slams the ten sickles two knuts onto the counter, shoves the bottle of Diagnotion Potion into her robe pocket, and hurries out of the apothecary. She could have nicked a spare bottle of Diagnotion Potion from the Auror office, although they're only for official use and under Scrimgeour pocketing one isn't a risk worth taking. Mad-Eye, Tonks thinks grimly, would let her get away with it. Would have let her.

The sun's hot as she jogs down Diagon Alley to the Leaky Cauldron, which is noisy and bustling with the lunchtime crowd. She checked earlier to ensure that nobody she knows is here. Sylvester Magamba, two years above and in Ravenclaw, is dealing playing cards for a couple of punters, but he doesn't notice Tonks, and she doesn't look his way. The route to the bar is busy, but what's the point of being an Auror if it can't help you jump a queue?

"Ministry of Magic Law Enforcement, search warrant," Tonks calls, flashing her Auror ID and elbowing her way through the crowd, "Need to investigate your stock room, Tom,"

"Why?" asks the barman, alarmed.

"Ministry's received a tip-off," she lies easily, "You know how it is these days,"

"Don't need to kick everyone out, do I?" asks Tom.

"Not at present. I'll let you know if that's a necessary precaution," Tonks recites, in her most official tone.

Tom tips his head and lets her into the stockroom. It's cramped and dusty and nobody has received a tip-off about anything dodgy which might have been planted in there. Tonks locks the door with her wand, takes the bottle from her pocket and sits on the floor to read the back of its label:

Sipasi's Diagnotion Potion- For all your medical needs!

Instructions: Take two teaspoons of potion. After twenty seconds, the potion left in the bottle will change in colour. Each colour signifies an ailment/ condition (see Usage Guide below).

Disclaimer: Sipasi's Diagnotion Potion is 99% accurate. Not for sale to under 14s. See our children's range for more products.

Sipasi's Diagnotion Potion Usage Guide:

Orange- Common cold

Red- Flu

Green- Dragon pox

Yellow- Spattergroit

Pink- Pregnancy (witches only)

Blue- Measles

Purple- Mumps

Turquoise- Rubella

If there is no colour change, patient is not sick and needs to stop whingeing.

Tonks can't help but feel more concerned. She's pretty sure that she doesn't have dragon pox, but the fact that the instructions on the bottle state the possibility of it is hardly reassuring. There's bottle-opener left on a shelf, and Tonks taps in with her wand to transfigure it into a teaspoon. The stockroom is stuffy, so she unclips her Auror robes and shrugs them off. Tonks has a strange suspicion that the blue dress she's wearing underneath will always remind her of this moment. She just hopes that it's for good and not for, well, ill.

Then she opens the bottle and pours the potion into the spoon.

Here goes nothing, she tells herself, eyeing the liquid uneasily. Tonks swallows the spoonful, then pours herself another and gulps it down too. It tastes tart but not unpleasant. Okay. Twenty seconds to wait now. She mutters out loud the seven core Singaporean defensive jinxes. That was one of Mad-Eye's favourite tests for her, a question he'd bark whenever he wanted to keep her on her toes. He'll never do that again, Tonks realises miserably. Nobody will ever demand that level of alertness, knowledge and cunning anymore. She wipes away a tear.

Twenty seconds, that must be it. Please not dragon pox, she wishes, not now. Then she holds up the bottle.

Pink. Not dragon pox. And not blue for measles either. That's a relief. But what was pink again? Tonks scans down the instruction label. Pink- pregnancy.

What?

What?

No way. There's a mistake. Somebody's brewed it wrong or it's a joke potion, a Weasley twins con. She's reading the bottle wrong. It's red and she's coming down with the flu. That makes more sense. She can't be...she's not pregnant. She can't possibly be pregnant.

But what about her missing period? She'd put the lateness down to stress: Dumbledore and Snape and work and the wedding and Remus. But it's been almost a fortnight now, and she's never been this late before…and she didn't get hold of a contraceptive potion until the day before the wedding. For God's sake, Tonks winces, why didn't you run out to the apothecary at lunchtime like today? How many times did they have sex before she started taking the potion? Three? Or was it four? She can't remember the number of times, she can just remember his skin and lips and body, the way they move together, the giggles and mingled breath, the words he murmurs to her and the things she moans back, the ecstasy and the love and how incredibly good it feels. Too good, clearly. Remus said he'd do the prophylactic charm on himself as a precaution. It isn't like him to be careless, but he must have got it wrong, and now look where she's ended up- locked in the stockroom of the Leaky Cauldron with a pink Diagnotion Potion and no clue what to do.

"This is a turn-up for the books, isn't it? Bet you're feeling bloody smug in there," Tonks sighs, unthinkingly putting a hand to her stomach, "Bet you're having a right giggle to yourself. You and me both, kid,"

Then she starts to laugh. Well, it is funny- a year spent pining for Remus, and barely two weeks after they're married she's knocked up with his baby. Classic. It would happen to her, wouldn't it? Anyway, Tonks reckons (biting her lip to stop the laughter bursting out and alarming Tom, whose probably got his ear pressed against the door), it could be worse. She'll be twenty-five at Christmas, which is way more sensible than Mum getting pregnant at nineteen. At least three of Tonks' classmates from school have kids by now, too. She's got a job that pays decently, and a flat she can afford. The baby was made through passionate, joyful lovemaking with her husband, not a grotty one-night-stand with a man she's barely friends with. Plus, said husband is patient and supportive and endlessly kind. She doubts Remus has ever thought about being a parent before, but she knows he'll be fantastic. All the kids say he's the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher they ever had, and being a parent isn't massively different from being a teacher, except you have to cuddle the baby and wipe its nose and always be there. Always, for the next eleven years. Merlin, it's intimidating when you look at it like that.

"Jack, it's ten to three," calls a male voice from across the pub.

Tonks jolts.

"On my way," responds the friend. Through the door, Tonks hears a chair scrape backwards and the clink of coins being dropped on a table.

Bollocks, she thinks. She's got to be back in the office by the hour. How the hell is she supposed to concentrate with this curveball? It's been hard enough the last couple of days having to pretend that Mad-Eye hasn't just died. Mad-Eye. Tonks' hand goes to her stomach again instinctively as she thinks of him. He'd been gone in a moment, and Remus hadn't been able to find his body. Saying goodbye wasn't Mad-Eye's style, but she'll never forgive herself for not thanking him.

Tonks realises her hands on her belly and startles. What a weird thing to do for comfort, she notes, touch the place the baby's growing, when I only found out it was in there a couple of minutes ago. What would Mad-Eye say if he knew she was pregnant? The useful thing about him is that he's predictable. Was that he was predictable. Mad-Eye had rules for when you were freaking out or had had a fright. Tonks doesn't know what he'd say about her getting pregnant, but she knows what he'd say about a situation where she's panicked: What are you going to do? Next five minutes, next hour, next twenty-four hours.

Tonks takes a deep breath. Next five minutes: Get up off the stockroom floor, tell Tom there's no problem, and apparate back to the Ministry.

Next hour: Grit her teeth and get through it. In an hour's time it'll be four, and she's leaving work at seven-thirty.

Next twenty-four hours: Tonks' first thought is that she'll have to tell Remus, but that idea shrinks away as soon as it enters her mind. Bad idea. She's got to get this straight on her own head first. But she could do with an evening snuggled on the sofa with him, feeling his warmth and solidness and- crap, Tonks winces, dammit dammit dammit bollocks arsehole: Kingsley and Dedalus are coming over tonight. They've got Order stuff to sort out, so the one night she needs to be alone with Remus, she'll have to spend strategising and planning and studying maps. Bugger. Today's going to take a lot of teeth-gritting, Tonks sighs to herself. Well, she's used to that, she's had weekends away with Dawlish. Besides, it'll be good practice for labour. Woah, where did that thought come from? You're acting like you're definitely having this baby. You could take a Termination Libation, she reminds herself. She could swing by the apothecary again in the morning to pick the potion up. The baby and the bewilderment could disappear. She wouldn't even need to tell Remus. She could make everything go back to normal. But the world isn't normal at the moment, is it? It's not going to be normal for a very long time. And normal, Tonks admits, standing up off the floor and pulling her Auror robes back on, has never been her style.


Remus watches his wife change for bed, feeling irritated. Kingsley and Dedalus were over earlier on Order business, and Tonks was clingy all evening. She and Kingsley came home from work together, and as soon as she stepped out of the fire she leapt at Remus and kissed him on the mouth. It wasn't a peck, but a deep and lingering kiss, winding her arms around his neck. Remus winces, remembering Kingsley's eyes flicking uncomfortably around the room. Remus had pushed his wife away gently, hoping she'd get the message: not in front of other people, Dora. You know that embarrasses me. It makes him twitchy, too. Even in front of their friends he can't help but feel that the eyes on them are disapproving, thinking he's lecherous and dangerous. Dora normally complies with his insistence on discretion, since she understands why he prefers to be private. This evening, however, she didn't take the hint. She sat close beside Remus, held held his hand and leaned against him. Tonks drummed her fingers on his knee when she was mulling over plans, and every time she got up to refill the kettle or fetch more biscuits, she'd squeeze his shoulder, as if to remind him that she'd be back beside him soon. Remus had tried to bat her away as subtly as he could without letting on to Kingsley and Dedalus that he was cross with her.

Tonks had been clingy the night Mad-Eye died too, and Remus had let her. She was shocked and grieving, she needed to feel that her husband was there and know that he'd comfort her and take care of her. Last night she'd been crying and quiet too. But the Dora who stepped out of the fireplace this evening had seemed a different person to the one who'd collapsed into his arms yesterday. She'd seemed cheerful and bright tonight, if also more jittery and intense than usual, and strangely distracted. Today she hadn't spoken as much as she usually did, but when she did talk her words tumbled out ten to the dozen. She kept insisting on fetching more tea and biscuits, and when she was sitting beside Remus her legs jigged up and down, like an excited child. It was rather manic, Remus reflects uneasily. Is this part of her grief? He pushed her away after Sirius died, so he wouldn't know.

Remus studies his wife as she takes her dress off, unhooks her bra, chucks them both into the open draw, and pulls on her pyjamas. There was more to discuss than anticipated in the wake of Mad-Eye's death, so Kingsley and Dedalus only left ten minutes ago, which means he hasn't said any time alone with her this evening.

Tonks crawls up the bed to where he's sitting, and puts both her hands on his shoulders.

"My husband," she sighs contentedly. She pecks him on the lips. It's light but lingering, and full of love, "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me,"

Remus' heart flutters when she says things like that; sweet and touching and entirely undeserved. He's getting better meeting her eye when she says those things, although tonight Remus can't help but glance faux-distractedly at the ceiling. Dora shakes his arm and cups a hand to his cheek so he's forced to look into her eyes.

"I'm so proud to be married to you," she beams.

She pulls him forwards, hugging him in a way which manages to be both tight and tender. One of her hands rubs its palm up and down his back, while the fingers on her other hand curl into his hair. See, Remus wants to say, this is why I don't like anybody seeing. It's better when it's just us. There's still something funny about this though, Remus muses when his wife lets him go. Dora scuffs his cheek with her thumb and presses a kiss to his forehead, then climbs under the duvet on her side of the bed (they've been married barely three weeks and already they have their sides of her bed. How charming, Remus thinks, and then, how cloying). Usually Tonks spoons up behind him to sleep, Remus never feels safer than when feeling her pressed against his back, an arm around his shoulder and her hand over his heartbeat. Although the last two nights Tonks been shivering and weeping and had needed him to hold her. Remus isn't sure what she wants tonight, so he gets under the covers, settles onto his back and waits for her to decide. He feels Tonks observing him for a moment, and then she shifts over and rests her head on his chest, wrapping her arm across his torso round to his waist. She sighs dreamily again. Not for the first time, Remus notes that his wife is very, very peculiar.

"Good night," he murmurs.

"Night, my love," Dora breathes. She's never called him that before.

The night Mad-Eye died she barely slept, and she didn't do much better last night. Now, in bed with the minutes ticking by, Remus can tell that Tonks is awake and alert. She's fidgeting, drumming her fingers and untangling and retangling their legs. They often ask each other what are you thinking about? Although this time Remus doesn't want to know the answer. It can't be Mad-Eye, though. She'd be sobbing if it was Mad-Eye on her mind, or at least brushing her tears away with his pyjama t-shirt. Remus glances down at her pink head. He doubts that he'll ever understand her. Perhaps he's fretting too much- he should trust that Tonks will tell him what she needs from him, and until then there's other stuff he should be concentrating on: Harry, Dumbledore, Snape. Harry's birthday, the Weasley wedding, the next full moon. The Order. Voldemort.

Plenty of things, Remus tells himself, and since when has Dora been shy about telling you her feelings? This is a part of grieving for Mad-Eye. She's trying to re-stabilise herself. And if that means that she needs to snog you in front of your friends, then you're either going to have to tell her to stop, or get a grip and let her do it. It's hardly the most pressing matter you've got to deal with.

Remus wraps an arm around his wife's shoulder and presses a kiss to her hair. She'll be fine, he promises himself, she's tough. She's just working out how to get back to normal without Moody. It isn't anything to panic about.


Wednesday

Tonks is already calling his name when she jumps out of the fireplace. Tonight. She's going to tell him tonight. She needed yesterday to get her head around the situation, which had been easier said than done with Kingsley and Daedalus round. She'd hardly slept last night, mulling it over and over. Money, time, work, the war, the Order, Bellatrix, Remus, Mum and Dad, the flat, her friends…Tonks considered everything again and again and again, playing out every circumstance. In plenty of those circumstances, taking a Termination Libation to get rid of the baby seemed a sensible idea. But in every circumstance, keeping the baby seemed a fantastic idea. The thing is, she's lucky to be having this baby with this man now. Lucky that this has happened. And yeah, it'd be crazy to go ahead with it, but it'd be crazy to throw something this unexpected and incredible away. Remus probably won't see it that way at first, but she's sure that he'll be pleased. He'll come around to it soon.

"Remus! Remus, where are you? I have to tell you something," she yelps, "9878!"

Instead of security questions, they use code numbers to check for imposters.

Remus appears in the doorway clutching a stack of papers. Tonks' stomach lurches at the sight of him, not in the sickened way of the last couple of mornings, but in a bouncing, joyful way, as if the baby is thrilled to be near its father.

"Everything alright?" he asks, then gives her his number: "2436,"

"I need to talk to you,"

Tonks climbs out of the fireplace, takes the papers from his hand and hugs him hard, pressing her nose into his collar. I am having your baby, she thinks, feeling euphoria and apprehension buzz in her chest. She's growing part of him inside her, something made by their love. The idea is still as intimidating as it felt yesterday, but it's glorious too.

Tonks kisses his forehead lightly, steps out of his arms, unclips the buckle on her Auror robes and tosses them into the armchair. She sits on the settee and gestures for Remus to follow. He seems puzzled, like he did all last night. Tonks knew that he was bemused at her yesterday, but she had to have some time to think everything through first. Besides, even if she'd wanted to, she should hardly tell him in front of Kingsley and Dedalus.

"Yes?" he prompts, his hand cold on her wrist. Tonks peels off her gloves and links her fingers with Remus'. She's planned what to say but it probably won't come out right, and all she wants to do is cwtch up and be surrounded by his warmth and his smell and his wonderfulness forever.

"I love you," she tells him slowly, reciting the words she's been planning all afternoon. But he's gazing at her with such concern in his gorgeous eyes that she can't help but go off-script, "I love you to death. It's still kind of overwhelming,"

A year and a half since she started having feelings for him, the intensity of emotion still stuns her at times. The depth of her love for him is bewildering, exhausting and painful, the experience has been bruising and humbling. For Merlin's sake, now she's starting to cry.

He's gripping her hand tighter, and Tonks squeezes back, trying to remember the rest of what she planned to say, "I know the last few weeks haven't been plain sailing, but I need you to know how happy our life together makes me. And I honestly believe that you and me together, we can do anything,"

It isn't the best time, and they've only been married a couple of weeks, and Dumbledore and Mad-Eye are dead and they're all in danger. But they can have this baby. They can do it. What's all the fighting for if it isn't to make their world safer for the future? This will be their baby and they will love it and keep it safe forever.

Remus' expression has passed concern and accelerated to fear. "Dora, what is it?"

She takes his other hand and beams up into his beautiful face. "I'm pregnant".


There is no simile to describe what the moment is like. It doesn't feel like falling off a cliff or a bucket of cold water. It feels still. Everything has stopped. Pregnant. Pregnant. She's pregnant.

The word rattles around inside Remus' head for a hundred years, boxing his ears and throbbing in his temple.

Pregnant.

Tonks is going to have a baby. His baby. No. Not this. Anything but this.

"Remus?" she says, her voice many miles away.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry,"

And then he looks at her, beautiful and apprehensive and holding tightly onto his hand.

She's pregnant.

He wants to tell her that he loves her and that he'd never do anything to hurt her. But it's too late for that. He has hurt her, irretrievably. He wants to get on his knees and wrap his arms round her waist, bury his face in her stomach and beg her to forgive him. But shouldn't touch her. He should never have touched her. See what his thoughtlessness and lust have done?

She's pregnant.

Tonks puts a consoling hand on his arm. "Don't be sorry. I know it's unexpected, but it's fantastic. We're having a baby, can you believe it? We'll be a family and- oh, come here,"

She wraps her other arm around his neck and hugs him tight. Remus jolts at the contact. He realises with horror that she doesn't understand. Tonks doesn't know about werewolf children, so she doesn't understand what he's done to her. What a dreadful cruelty he has inflicted upon the woman he vowed at their wedding to honour and cherish forever.

Remus pushes her away, holds her at arm's length and looks into her still-watery eyes. He's about to break her heart yet again.

"Listen," he says, and forces the words out as factually as he can. No time for getting emotional now, "The child will be a werewolf,"

He's spent decades dreading that his own violence and savagery would lead to him biting someone and passing on his condition. He should have known that love was to be feared more the wolf's brutality. Love has done this or, at least, what he believed was an act of love. Remus grimaces as he admits to himself that touching Dora that way, holding her close and kissing her and moving inside her, had not turned out to be love. It had been violent and contaminating. He'd known that last year, so he put off sleeping with her for weeks out of anguish and shame. He's been an idiot these last few weeks since Dumbledore died. Taken advantage of her love by using it to bury his own grief. Forgot what he is. The curse and savagery and lecherousness of the beast, and the self-delusion which only a human could be capable of have done this. He has done this.

Tonks nods, digesting the information. Then she says, "Alright,"

Remus almost grabs her. "It's not alright. It's dangerous. We won't be able to keep living here. You'll definitely have to leave your job now,"

The Ministry's cracking down on the Werewolf Register, and being married to one could be illegal in a few months' time. It was only a loophole which made their marriage legal in the first place. If anybody finds out she's pregnant it's going to scrape away the crumb of security they have.

"Not yet. Anything could happen in the next few months," Dora points out, then begs, "Please don't agonise about this now. I know it won't be easy, but we'll find a way,"

What way? There's no way that the two of them and a werewolf pup will be able to duck under the Ministry's radar.

"You love your job," Remus tells her, "You've worked hard for it. Mad-Eye wouldn't want-"

He sees the anger flare in her face. "Don't you dare tell me what Mad-Eye wouldn't want-"

"Mad-Eye wouldn't want you giving up your whole life to have a werewolf baby!" Remus shouts. He wouldn't. Who would? Anybody who has ever cared for her knows that this will destroy her life.

Dora stares at him, looking almost childlike. Painfully so.

"I've ruined everything for you," he mumbles.

"Never,"

"It's going to be a werewolf, I'm sure of it,"

"You're sure? You mean you don't actually know?" Dora interrogates.

"I know,"

"How?

"I know,"

"Wow, what a convincing argument. Do you know anybody this has happened to? Anyone who's been born a werewolf?"

"No,"

"So it might not be?"

"It will be,"

"You don't know that,"

"Yes, I do,"

"Because you're paranoid and frightened and determined to predict the worst outcome. You don't actually have any evidence," Tonks points out, in the tone she uses when she's convinced that she's right. But she is incredibly wrong.

"What about you? Are you sure you're pregnant? Are you a hundred per cent sure?" Remus interrogates, groping in the dark for a way out of this fiasco, "I thought we were being careful. You said you were taking the potion,"

"I am now, but I wasn't at first. In case you've forgotten, Dumbledore had just died so I didn't really have time to pop to the apothecary. I told you that, remember? We agreed. You said you'd do the charm on yourself,"

Remus balks. "I did. I've done it every time, I swear," he promises. This is his fault? His carelessness has done this, as well as his lust? What an idiot. What a bastard.

"I know you have, but you must have done it wrong," Dora says, her voice infuriatingly patient as she strokes the spot where his shirt cuff meets his wrist.

"Do you know when?" Remus demands. Which time? When was the exact moment he made this fatal mistake? It can barely have been a fortnight ago. She's got enough time to get hold of a Termination Libation, he realises. They can make this problem disappear Then he'll go away and let her forget this ever happened. He'll give her up if it means that he never has to feel this horror for her ever again.

"No," Dora answers.

"Haven't you tried to work it out?" he shoots back. Three weeks ago at most. They have time to solve this.

"I dunno. A fortnight? I took a Diagnotion Potion. I suppose I could go to a Healer to know for certain," Tonks suggests.

"No, don't do that," he says hurriedly, "Don't tell anybody else. You haven't told anyone, have you?"

"Of course not,"

Something else occurs to Remus, and he can't help but snap, "Did you know about this? The night we moved Harry, did you know?"

She isn't like him. He mulls over what the right or wrong choices are, weighs up his options and then decides what to do. Often he gets it wrong, like when he didn't tell Dumbledore about Sirius' Animagus abilities or his knowledge of the passageways into Hogwarts. When he didn't say all the things he thought he should have said to Padfoot. When he married her. Dora is different, she's more rash. She acts now and considers it later, especially when it comes to things she cares about. Remus loves that about her, but undertaking Harry's movement plan when she knew she was pregnant was reckless.

"I only found out yesterday, but I didn't tell you 'cos I needed to get my head around it first," Tonks insists.


"And your head's around it now?" Remus demands. He's taking it even worse than Tonks anticipated. She expected disbelief, bemusement, panic and guilt. She didn't expect all of the above to be coming out as anger, and the fact that it is hurts. What hurts even more is that there's no hint of anything under the guilt, panic, bemusement and disbelief. No trace of pride or delight. She could almost say he's horrified.

"I reckon. D'you reckon I'm not scared? I'm bloody terrified," she admits, hoping that this confession will help to get Remus onside, "But I know that we can do this together. I meant it. You and me can do anything,"

"We can't bring a werewolf baby into the world. We're both in the Order, and Bellatrix Lestrange wants you dead because of me. Imagine what she'd do if she knew we were having a child," Remus pleads.

"I was hoping the shock would kill her,"

"That's not funny,"

Tonks is losing patience. She gets that he wasn't expecting this. She gets that he's concerned. She doesn't get all this irrational werewolf talk, and the fact that Remus is acting like he's put a knife in her stomach instead of a baby.

"What do you want me to say? I've told you I'm pregnant, and all you can do is get angry and tell me it's going to ruin my life. Merlin's beard, when are you going to get it? I want this, I want you and I want your baby, even if it is a werewolf,"

"You don't understand," Remus croaks. He's staring at his feet, ashamed. Tonks hates it when he gets like this.

"Yeah, I just married a werewolf for a laugh, he hasn't given me ten thousand lectures about how hard it's going to be," she growls.

"We've barely told anybody we're married because of how the Ministry is. Imagine how long we can keep that up if we had a child? We'll be outcasts,"

"We'll have our friends,"

"Friends tend to disappear when your child is a werewolf. Believe me,"

"You really think that of Molly? Or Kingsley? Hestia? Hagrid, for God's sake, he's a half-giant!"

Remus' shoes are still of enormous interest to him. He clasps his hands together, as if praying.

"My mother died before she was sixty. She was ill long before that, worn out by lying and caring for me. Fending me off," he mumbles. He looks up and into her face, so earnest, so afraid, "I don't want that for you,"

The situation's different this time. If the child's a werewolf, Remus knows what they'll be dealing with. He can help, and their friends will help too. He's right that the law isn't on their side, but plenty of people are.

"It won't have to be," Tonks promises, slipping her hand into his.

Remus squeezes back, so hard that his grasp is painful. His tone is difficult to determine as he replies in a quiet voice, "You have no idea how much people will hate you,"

Tonks tries to pretend not to be stung by that. She never expected him to say something like that to her.

"Will you?" she asks.

"What?"

"Will you hate me if our baby's a werewolf?"

"Don't be ridiculous," says Remus.

Sometimes he can be bloody contrary. "Answer the question,"

"You know I could never hate you," he says, letting go of her hand, "This is my fault,"

"That's all that matters. I'll have you and our kid and our friends, I don't care about what anybody else thinks. We've had this conversation a million times,"

They rode this roundabout repeatedly about getting married, and that's turned out fine so far. Okay, she's kept it under wraps at work, but everybody in the Order was chuffed for them, and even Mum's coming round to Remus. Why doesn't Remus get that she will never care what anybody says about him or them? Anyone who knows Remus knows that he isn't brutal or feral or any of the bullshit werewolf stereotypes.

"It's different when there's a child involved," Remus insists.

"You don't want it, do you?" Tonks murmurs. Her heart feels as if it has wilted inside her.

"It's not a question of want. It's a question of what's right and what's safe,"

He's using his Professor Tone, the one which, depending on context, either makes her giggle or makes her want to throttle him. Right now it's certainly the latter. Why does he have to find the negative in every situation? Everything has to come back to him being a werewolf, but he isn't just a werewolf. He's her brave, funny, gentle, intelligent, gorgeous husband. He's going to be their child's Daddy. The image of Remus holding their baby pops into her head, and she smiles.

"You and me is very right and very safe," says Tonks, playing with his fingers the way he likes, "I know you feel safe with me,"

He says that out loud sometimes, and he tells her things he doesn't tell anybody else, and they take care of each other and protect one another. They're equals, and their relationship is total safety and trust and love. How can bringing a baby into that be dangerous?

"You're not safe with me, and a child won't be either,"

They're going round in circles. As usual, Tonks groans in her head.

"You need time for it to sink in," she decides, "I was the same yesterday, I was afraid, but now it's sunk in I couldn't be more chuffed, even if I'm still anxious. You need a day or two to get used to the idea,"

She claps a hand to his shoulder and hopes that he understands the part-comfort, part-please-get-a-grip gesture.

"I know it's going to be like me," Remus mumbles.

It takes every ounce of Tonks' strength not to roll her eyes. She forces herself to beam at him, to intentionally misunderstand, and to say elatedly, "I hope so. Wouldn't that be wonderful?".