Resolutions

By Neurotica

Nine

Forty-five minutes before Ted Tonks' estimated time for Naomi's delivery, the delivery room door burst open, startling both the witch and Remus. Three medi-witches and two Healers rushed in, hovering a stretcher between them, which transformed into a hospital bed just as it stopped beside Naomi's.

"Sirius!" Naomi gasped when one of the medi-witches moved to one side. "Oh god, what happened to him?"

Remus didn't take his eyes off his best friend's beaten, swollen, bloody form. Bandages had been applied to his neck, just below his right ear all the way down below the collar of his ripped robes. Both his eyes were blackened and swollen shut. His cheek and jaw were bruised and broken along with his nose. Three or four of his ribs were broken or cracked; his ankle was shattered; he had a nasty head injury that had been bleeding upon his arrival, but had been stopped promptly by the Healers on the way to the room.

Dumbledore had followed the hospital staff into the room and was waiting for them to get Sirius stabilized and settled, and for them to leave before he told Naomi and Remus what had happened. He and the Aurors had Apparated to the coordinates given to them by Tonks and Charlie, and found Sirius and Lucius Malfoy in a fierce, bloody battle. The combatants seemed to have forgotten all about their wands and were fighting with their fists and feet. The Aurors stunned Malfoy, and it had taken Sirius a minute or two to quit punching his enemy in the face and realize the other wizard was unconscious. When he finally noticed the other Aurors and Dumbledore, Sirius sighed in exhausted relief and fell to the ground in a dead faint. Most of the healing on Sirius had taken place before he'd even been brought to St. Mungo's—Dumbledore had been worried about transporting him with the number and type of injuries he'd sustained.

"Where's Malfoy?" Naomi asked in an eager whisper, not taking her eyes from her husband.

"Azkaban," Dumbledore said triumphantly. Remus repressed the urge to shout in happiness at the news—he settled on hugging Naomi and giving her a quick (friendly) peck on the lips. "The strongest wards and charms Alastor Moody can come up with will be placed around his cell, along with a twenty-four hour goblin security team."

"Eleven years," Remus said, unable to stop smiling. "It's taken eleven years to catch the son of a bitch—pardon my language, Albus—and it's finally over. Sirius finally did it... I wonder if he knows yet."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at Remus' choice in words towards Lucius Malfoy. "If he doesn't know yet, he will shortly after he wakes, I am certain."

Remus and Naomi assured him he was correct, and the Headmaster stood to leave a short time later—he had to meet with Minister Bones. "Naomi, my dear, I shall come visit soon. I am looking quite forward to finally meeting your daughter."

Naomi smiled widely at him. "Believe me, sir, so am I. Thank you." Dumbledore inclined his head, winked, and left the room. She turned to look at Remus who was still smiling proudly at Sirius. "He finally did it," she said, repeating his words.

"And I hope Malfoy look ten times worse than Sirius does," Remus said. "If he doesn't, I may have to fix that."

"Leave some for me," Naomi muttered.

"Of course." Remus grinned.

Nearly an hour later, Sirius was still unconscious, and Naomi's contractions were only seconds apart. Ted and his team of medi-witches had returned and were preparing to deliver the baby. Remus held onto Naomi's hand with both of his. She'd wanted to hold Sirius', but she didn't want to hurt him anymore than he had been. Remus said he was fine with her breaking all his fingers, anyway; with Malfoy in prison, nothing could dampen his mood today.

"Alright, Naomi," Ted called from the foot of the bed. "I need you start pushing, sweetheart."

Naomi did, closing her eyes tightly and screaming loudly through tightly clenched teeth. Remus was somewhere to her left, she knew, encouraging her along. Ted continued to give her instructions ("Another push..." "A little harder, Naomi, that's a girl...") and she followed everything he said, knowing soon it would be over, and she'd be able to hold her daughter.

"One more big push, Naomi, and it will all be over," Ted said. "On three now... One, two, three, push!"

Naomi screamed loudly in pain and effort, tears pouring from her eyes, but her pain seemed to disappear instantly when she heard another, unfamiliar cry fill the room. Ted stood and turned away with something—someone—in his arms and handed the bundle over to a medi-witch who went off somewhere. The Healer turned back to her, a wide smile covering his face. "Congratulations, Naomi, your baby girl seems perfectly healthy."

Now the tears were of pure happiness. Naomi's blurry eyes were glued on the back of the medi-witch she knew to be holding her child. Finally, the witch turned around, a smile on her own face as she brought Naomi's baby girl, cleaned up, and wrapped in a pink blanket, over to the bed.

The new mother released Remus' hand to hold onto her daughter. She stared at the pink-faced girl in absolute awe. "She's beautiful," she whispered tearfully, taking in every detail of the baby's face. She already had a small amount of thin black hair springing up from her head, a little button nose that would undoubtedly be just like her mother's, but what were sure to become Sirius' ears and mouth. Her tiny hands were curled in loose fists, her eyes still closed tightly.

"A month early and perfectly healthy," Naomi heard someone say distantly. "That's a relief."

Naomi silently agreed. Her only wish was that Sirius was awake to share the moment with her.

The medi-witch returned to Naomi's bedside a few moments later with a quill posed over a piece of parchment. "Have you decided on a name, Mrs. Black?" she asked kindly.

Naomi smiled gently at her daughter before glancing at her husband, still unconscious in the bed beside her. She nodded and whispered, "Mira Elizabeth Black."

Is this what if feels like to be dead, then? he wondered. Odd, I didn't think it'd hurt this bloody much after dying...

The last thing Sirius clearly remembered was falling down the side of that cliff onto a sandy beach, and then Malfoy standing over him, furious that he'd somehow survived, and using some curse to slice the side of his neck open. Right at that moment, Sirius was certain he was going to bleed to death—he'd even gone through the clichéd life-flashing-before-your-eyes stage. He thought of Naomi a lot. And Harry and Remus. He thought of the daughter he'd never get a chance to meet, and wondered what she would look like. He hoped Remus would take the role of father figure in her life—Naomi would surely need the help. He thought about how Harry would defeat Voldemort, marry Ginny, and have a bunch of unkempt redheaded kids with green eyes running around their home. His family was all he'd thought about until his world had gone black.

Until now...

His world was still black, but he could sort of make out a pale light somewhere around him. Then he realized his eyes were closed. That would explain it, Padfoot, you idiot...

But it hurt to try to open his eyes. He fought the pain and opened one eye as wide as he could. He found himself staring at a blurry white ceiling. If that wasn't weird enough, he realized he was resting on a very soft surface. Well, at least the afterlife is comfortable... he thought miserably. He wanted to go back to his wife and godson and best friends.

Somewhere to his left, he distantly heard light breathing. He raised an eyebrow and then winced at how much it hurt. If he was in a bed in the afterlife, shouldn't he be alone? Very painfully, he turned his head and felt his stomach jump to this throat in surprise. Even though he could barely see, he still knew her face, her hair... Why was she here, though? Had something happened to her when he'd disappeared?

God, I hope not, he thought desperately.

He longed to touch her, to wake her and find out what was going on—why was she here?—but couldn't move either of his arms.

"Naomi," he tried to say. He hadn't heard himself utter a sound. Why can't I talk? he thought irritably. "Naomi, please wake up, love," he tried again. This time he'd made a sort of grunting noise. Whatever sound it was, it had the desired effect. Naomi's eyes slowly fluttered open and he felt his heart swell with love at the sight of her hazel eyes.

It took her a second to realize he was looking at her as best he could, but when she did, her eyes widened and she sat straight up, never taking her eyes from his. "Sirius," she whispered, a smile growing on her face. "You're awake."

He wanted to make some sort of witty reply to make her laugh—she looked close to tears—but all that came out was a bit of a groan.

Relief spread over her face and she turned away from him only for a second before facing him again. She lay down in the bed they shared very close to him, smiling widely. "You look horrible," she said, touching his face tenderly. Sirius only blinked at the happiness in her voice. Why would she be happy that I look horrible? There's got be something else happening here... He wanted to ask where here was, but didn't even get the chance to open his mouth. A door opened somewhere at his feet and green blurs entered hastily and crowded around him, poking and prodding, questioning and testing. It was a routine he knew well from all the times he'd been stuck in St. Mungo's.

So maybe I'm not dead, he thought hopefully as three different wands moved over him. But that still doesn't explain why Naomi's here, in a hospital gown. His wife had sat up again, revealing one of the cloth gowns people hated so much. He couldn't help but think she looked stunning in it. But she'd slap me if I told her that...

Twenty minutes later, after someone had fetched him a glass of water—he vowed to find the person and kiss them—he was left alone with his wife once more. Finally, he found he was able to talk, albeit in a quite hoarse and raspy voice. "What happened?" he croaked. Naomi was still smiling at him. "Are you all right?"

"Never better." Then why was she crying? "I thought you'd never come 'round. The Healers were starting to think we were going to lose you..."

"Oh," he said. He started to say something else, but there was a knock on the door. Sirius held back his annoyed groan when he saw Remus poke his head through and ask if he could come in. "How're you feeling, Padfoot?" he asked, approaching Sirius' side of the bed, smiling just as widely as Naomi was.

"Like I was trampled by a herd of Hippogriffs," Sirius replied hoarsely.

Remus chuckled. "You look it, mate." He looked over at Naomi. "Have you told him?"

Sirius furrowed his brow at Naomi's answer. "Not yet," she said. He could hear the smile in her voice.

"Told me what?" he asked.

Remus excused himself, saying he was going to tell the others—what others?—that Sirius was okay. The Auror looked expectantly at his wife. She sighed happily before speaking. "After we found out you were missing," she began, taking one of his hands and placing it on her flatter-than-usual belly—Wait, he stopped himself. WHAT? He decided to listen to what she was saying. "Sirius, I had the baby tonight... Well, last night..."

"What?" he croaked loudly, trying and failing to push himself up. He bit back a cry of pain as he felt a sharp pain in his the other arm that wasn't currently occupied. He ignored it. "But you couldn't have," he said, almost pleadingly. "You've still got four weeks."

Naomi smiled and shrugged a little. "She was early."

Disappointment flowed through his veins. "I missed her birth?" he asked weakly.

"I'm sorry, love. I tried to wait, but I couldn't. You were here... Just unconscious."

"Is she okay?" He'd heard of babies born weeks before their due dates could have problems at birth.

"She's perfect," Naomi whispered. "God, she's so beautiful, Sirius."

"Yeah?" he said softly, feeling himself smile. "What's she look like?"

"Do you want to see her?"

"Yes!" he practically shouted. Naomi chuckled and pressed a small red button, conjuring a hologram of a stern-looking medi-witch. "Yes, Mrs. Black?" she asked.

"We'd like to see our baby, please," Naomi said, squeezing Sirius' hand, his heart beating rapidly. He had a million questions to ask, but couldn't seem to get even one out. And by the time he'd managed to open his mouth, the medi-witch from the hologram had entered the room, carefully carrying a bundle of pink blankets.

For all Sirius could see, the bundle floated to him on its own accord—the medi-witch no longer existed to him, only his wife and daughter. She was placed gently in his arms, and with one look into her face, he felt his heart melt completely and thoroughly.

He distantly felt Naomi move closer to him and saw her reach over to softly smooth down the baby girl's black hair. "Did you name her already?" he breathed, tears filling his eyes as his daughter's tiny mouth opened in a yawn.

"Yes," Naomi whispered. "Sirius, meet Mira Elizabeth."

He choked a sob. "Hello, Mira. I'm your daddy," he whispered, touching her soft pale skin with one of his non-bandaged fingers. Mira responded by loosely taking hold of her father's finger with her whole hand when he touched her open palm. "Naomi... look at her..."

"I see her, love. Isn't she gorgeous?"

"Yeah," Sirius said, smiling widely through his tears. "And we made her..."

"I know," Naomi said, now crying with him. He turned to her and bent to kiss her as best he could without hurting himself or most importantly, without hurting his daughter. "I love you," he murmured against her lips. "I love both of you so much."

"We love you too," she said. She slipped a hand under Sirius' to help support their daughter and sighed dreamily. "My family..."

Back in the waiting room, Emmeline was saying good night to the Weasleys, Hermione, Tonks, and Fleur. Now that the baby had been born and was healthy, and Sirius had been found alive, they decided to go get some rest themselves. Molly had wanted to stay because of Harry, but the boy was still under an enchanted sleep, and hadn't woken up needing anything—Remus and Emmeline assured Molly they could take care of him, and they were in a hospital, after all.

Once the others had gone, Emmeline and Remus looked at one another, both completely exhausted, and fell into chairs. Remus wrapped his wife in his arms and kissed the top of her hair. After the day's events, all he wanted to do was hold her and sleep.

"How's Sirius?" she muttered tiredly.

"He's awake," Remus answered. "He looks a bit better than he did when they brought him in, and the Healer said that by morning all the bones will have mended. The only thing they're really worried about is that slice on his neck. They said that he was lucky that the curse, or hex, or whatever it was, didn't hit a major artery, or he would have bled to death in minutes. They also say it's going to have to heal naturally—they can't figure out what was used so they can counter it—and it's going to leave a rather nasty scar."

"Well, he's alive and he's not in any near danger of dying, so I'm sure he'll be able to live with a scar. Did he know about the baby when you went to see them?"

Remus shook his head. "No, Naomi was about to tell him when I walked in. I assume by now he knows, though."

"What does the baby look like? I haven't had a chance to see her yet."

"She's very beautiful," Remus said, smiling. "I haven't spent a lot of time around babies since Harry was born, but she is definitely one of the most adorable I've seen in a long time. And she's going to have Sirius wrapped around her little finger in no time at all."

"What, you're not going to be the same with our boys?"

"I never said that." Remus grinned. "I'm almost positive I will be—my life already practically revolves around Healer check-ups and all the other things we've got to do before they come."

"Are you complaining, Mr. Lupin?"

"Not in a million years, Mrs. Lupin," he said quietly, tilting her head back to kiss her.

Harry woke in a bit of a daze, opening his eyes to an unfamiliar sight. It took him a few minutes to remember that they were at St. Mungo's and Naomi had given birth to her baby. Then he remembered that he'd had visions from Voldemort last night for the first time in over a year. That thought led him to what had happened to Sirius.

Harry sat straight up in the cot he'd been placed in and looked across from him to where Remus was asleep with Emmeline's head resting on his chest, her arm around his waist, his hand resting on her belly. He didn't want to wake them, but he was also desperate for news about his godfather. "Remus," he said quietly. His surrogate godfather groaned a little and rubbed his wife's back with his other hand, still sleeping on. Harry rolled his eyes. "Remus, wake up," he said a little louder.

Slowly but surely, the older wizard's eyes opened and blinked confused sleep from them. "Oh, St. Mungo's," he reminded himself quietly. "How're you feeling, Harry?"

Harry nodded. "Fine. Have you heard anything about Sirius?"

Remus raised an eyebrow. "That's right, you were asleep, weren't you?" he said. "Sirius is here, probably fast asleep next to Naomi right now. Malfoy set him up somehow—messed with his Apparition yesterday morning. They fought, the Ministry and Dumbledore showed up, stunned Malfoy, and brought Sirius here. He's okay... a little beaten up, but okay."

The younger wizard sighed in relief. "Can I go see him?"

"Soon," Remus responded. "Let's give him a little time; he's got to get used to the idea the he's a father. How about we wake Emmeline and go find some breakfast?"

Though the night before he hadn't had a bit of an appetite, Harry felt and heard his stomach growling. "That's an excellent idea, I think."

Just as the Healers had said, Sirius' bones had healed while he'd slept. His face no longer felt broken, swollen, or bruised, and he could finally move his arms without feeling horrible pain shooting through his body. This was a very good thing, since his main concern at the moment was to hold his wife and daughter for as long as possible.

Mira was finally beginning to open her eyes, and Sirius could see bluish-gray slivers through the slits of her eyelids. Naomi guessed their daughter would have Sirius' eyes, which disappointed him only a little; he'd hoped she would have her mother's eyes.

Sirius found the most interesting thing about parenthood was watching his wife feed their child. Naomi rolled her eyes, her lips twitching, and called him a prat when he'd grinned after being told how Mira would have her first meal.

The newborn barely cried at all, but Sirius was sure that was only because she'd spent so much time in her parents' arms.

"You know," Naomi said teasingly, without any force whatsoever behind the words, "it's not good for the baby to be held for so long."

Sirius shrugged, rocking his arms back and forth, soothing his baby into sleep. "She likes it," he said quietly. "Besides, you had her for eight months—it's my turn."

Naomi chuckled and kissed her shoulder. A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door and Remus poked his head again. "Mind if we come in?"

"Not at all," Sirius said, glancing up only long enough to see that it was Remus. "We're just relaxing." Remus smiled and opened the door further for himself, Harry, and Emmeline. Remus found a chair beside the Blacks' bed, but Harry and Emmeline were trying to see into the bundle of blankets Sirius held. "Haven't either of you seen her yet?"

"No," Emmeline replied, her face lighting up as she looked into Mira Black's face. "She's adorable, you two."

Naomi smiled widely. "You want to hold her?" Emmeline nodded, but Sirius objected; he wasn't yet ready to give up his daughter. "Sirius, Emmeline isn't going to run off with her; she only wants to hold her."

Reluctantly, Sirius carefully passed the baby to Emmeline. "Watch her head," he instructed protectively.

Emmeline smiled at him. "I know how to hold a baby, Sirius," she muttered.

"She's so tiny," Harry said quietly, leaning over Emmeline's arm to look at Mira. "I knew babies were small, but not this small."

"She's four weeks early." Naomi shrugged. "Ted said she might have grown a little more if she'd come later, but not much. She's just a small baby."

"She'll grow," Remus said certainly. "Before we know it, she'll be twice as big as she is now."

"When can you take her home?" Emmeline asked.

"Tomorrow," Sirius answered. "They're releasing me at the same time, so we can all get out of here. You three don't have to stay tonight if you don't want to. There's not really much point in it..."

Remus nodded. "We'll probably head back to the house later in the afternoon. I need to go to Hogwarts at some point very soon about what's been happening over the last week."

Sirius snorted. "Yes, it has been pretty eventful around here, hasn't it?"

"We're overdue," Harry said. The adults noticed the large smile on his face as Mira grabbed hold of his of his fingers. "And Malfoy being caught more than makes up for it."

"That's all well and good," Sirius said, "but I'm happier that I got to see my daughter. I was starting to think yesterday, while I was dueling with Malfoy, that I wouldn't get the chance. I thought he was going to kill me—he would have if Dumbledore hadn't shown up when he did."

The room was silent for a few minutes. Naomi wrapped her arms around Sirius' waist, and kissed him, reminding him that he was alive, and that Malfoy hadn't won. The other three averted their eyes from the couple and looked at the baby until Remus asked, "May I hold my goddaughter now?"

Sirius chuckled as Emmeline passed Mira gently over to Remus. His heart melted just as fast as Sirius' had when he first held her. "She's going to be a heartbreaker," Remus said quietly, bending his head to kiss the baby girl's pale forehead. "Just like her mummy and daddy." He grinned.

Sirius laughed. "Oh, come now, I wasn't that bad, was I?"

Remus only raised an eyebrow in response. "I'm amazed that she's allowing herself to be passed around like this," he said. "Remember how when Harry was born, if anyone but Lily held him he'd throw a fit?"

Sirius shook his head, looking away from his daughter in favor of his godson. "He let me hold him with no problem," the wizard said, smiling reminiscently. "And right after Lily and James told me they wanted me to be his godfather, he actually smiled at me. Lily said it was gas, but I knew better."

It was all a blur of sounds and different colored lights. Nothing made sense. The people around him had faded edges around their bodies, but when he looked down at himself, he was solid. He walked through the battle—was it a battle?—as though a path had been made for him, as though he was supposed to have been there. He tried to make sense of his surroundings, but there were no familiar sights for him to recognize. Once or twice, he thought he heard a voice that sounded like someone he knew, but when he looked in the direction from which the voice had come, he saw nothing but the same blurred images.

He stopped in the center of the battle where something that looked like a spotlight was shining down on him—it was the full moon. His brow furrowed and he continued on his walk. He reached the edge of the battle and stared. He saw himself with a look of determination that he could never remember having on his face as he fought fiercely with another wizard. But it wasn't Voldemort like he thought it would be initially. No, this was someone else, someone unimportant. The wizard was stunned, and he smirked triumphantly for half a second before spinning on his heel and joining another fight.

"HARRY!"

Both Harries spun around to look at where the voice had come from. The real-Harry's eyes widened and he instinctively slammed himself into the ground as a streak of brown and grey leapt over him and knocked the dream-Harry to the ground. The other Harry lifted his head from the dirt and grass to watch the wrestling match that the dream-Harry seemed to be losing. Before it was too late, a jet of silver light hit the animal in its back and was pulled away from its prey. The dream-Harry stood, panting, and grasping his stomach, which seemed to be bleeding. The animal, a werewolf, the real-Harry finally saw, was writhing in horrible pain, its body twisting and arching as it howled loudly and shrilly.

The dream-Harry looked at his counterpart, nodding.

Harry shot straight up, sweating in places he didn't know he could sweat. He looked around his surroundings and remembered that he, Remus, and Emmeline had gone back to Number Twelve earlier in the afternoon.

Automatically, he lifted up his shirt and felt the area where he'd seen the werewolf attack him. He sighed when he realized he wasn't actually injured. Shaking, he lay back into his pillows, his eyes closed tightly, trying to calm down his racing heart.

Was that Remus? he wondered, thinking about the shape and color of the werewolf in the dream. But he'd never attack me... His mind seemed to go in reverse as he thought about the last full moon, when Moony had lost control over himself, and had tried to attack Harry.

But that was an accident, Harry thought firmly. His potion was prepared wrong.

Besides, it was just a dream. My scar doesn't even hurt.

He reached over to his bedside table, where his wand and glasses rested, and got out of bed. As he left his bedroom, he wiped his sweaty fringe from his forehead, taking deep breaths as the after-effects of the dream wore off. He made his way to the basement kitchen, finding it empty, and went to the icebox and pulled out the jug of pumpkin juice. Not even bothering to get a goblet, he took four big gulps of the ice cold drink and put it back in its place.

Chocolate, his mind told him. Remus says chocolate always helps after a bad dream.

So he went to the pantry and found the stack of Honeyduke's Finest Chocolate Bars that Remus had picked up the last time he'd gone on a shopping trip. He took a peanut bar from the bottom of the stack and went to sit at the table.

Almost mechanically, he took off the wrapper and began breaking the chocolate into pieces, chewing them slowly, his eyes drifting shut as he tried to forget what he'd been dreaming about. By the time only small shavings were left, he felt better, and once again silently thanked Remus for all his teachings.

He crumpled the wrapper and threw it into a bin at the end of the counter, picked up his wand again, and left the kitchen, determined to get back to sleep.