Chapter 37
"Oh, my dear girl," he replied, gently squeezing both her hands. "I am so sorry. You have been having a hell of time these last few months."
"Don't be sorry, Remus. We all have. Who is to say that your own suffering is not worse than my own?"
Lupin shrugged, for he supposed she was right, they were all suffering, in their own ways.
"What will you do?" he asked, rubbing his thumbs on the backs of her hands.
Orla sighed, heavily.
"If I'm three months gone, then it's too late to do anything about ending the pregnancy now. Not that I would have, you know, this child is as much mine as it is … his. There have been enough casualties of this war, I'm not going to add one more."
"You will have the baby?"
"I'm terrified, but yes. Remus, will you help me?"
"Me? I'm just making things up as I go along, Orla. You're just as adept at baby care as I, probably even more so, and Teddy isn't even your son."
"I meant the pregnancy. You've just been through it all with … with your wife, so you kind of know what I can expect."
"Ah, I see. Well, yes, I suppose so, and I'll do my very best to support and care for you during your pregnancy. Also, do not forget you have Fleur Weasley, who is a few months ahead of you, who will be a valuable source of advice?"
"That's true. I'll Floo her tomorrow. I hope that Hermione will let both me and the baby stay here."
"I cannot imagine that Hermione would do anything but welcome you both with open arms. You will not be moving to Malfoy Manor then, I take it?"
Orla's expression darkened, and she let go of his hands.
"I will never return there in all my life. They terrify me. Narcissa Malfoy hates me, both for who I am and for what I represent – her husband's infidelity. She will never accept me as a daughter, not that I would want her to, and Voldemort cannot make it so. He has no concept of love or family, thinking he can simply slot me in Draco's place after his murder."
Remus was privately pleased that she had decided not to return to her rightful family home, although he thought it unlikely that Lucius Malfoy would take it lying down. With the weight of the Ministry behind him, and as he was now aware that Orla was carrying his grandchild, he would probably be harder on her tail than ever, especially as they believed the child to be Draco's. He chose not to trouble the girl further tonight, though.
"Shall I leave you to sleep?"
Her face darted up to him, looking younger than ever.
"Would you stay? Just for a little while? Is Teddy asleep?"
"Teddy is asleep in his crib, in my room, but Orla, I'm not sure you really want me to …"
"Please, Remus," she asked, taking hold of his hand. "I'm not strong, tonight."
He sighed, for if he was honest, the idea of a simple cuddle sounded wonderful to him too.
"Lay down," he replied, quietly. "Under the covers, so when you fall asleep I shall not disturb you by leaving."
Orla slipped under the quilt, and he lay down next to her, on top of it. It was a small double bed, but enough room for them both. She lay on her back, and he lay on his side, facing her, tentatively sliding his arm across her middle, over the covers, and felt both her palms on his forearm. The blonde-haired witch looked up at the ceiling, as if watching the patterns made by the flickering candle on her bedside table.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"You are welcome. Try to close your eyes, if you can. Sleep will come, and tomorrow is another day. You are not alone, and Orla, I promise you that you are still strong."
Watching from the neighbouring pillow as she closed her eyes, he felt her grip on his arm release slightly as she tried to relax. He'd not been this close to her before, apart from the inadvertent hugging in the kitchen, the other day. Orla Malfoy was a beautiful girl, there was no doubt about that, tall and blonde, with a core of steel that belied her Hufflepuff sorting. The dreadful things that had happened to her, and she was still here, still fighting, and now for her daughter as well.
Remus felt his own eyes begin to droop closed, and forced them back open. He could not allow himself to sleep next to her, for if Teddy woke in the night he would need to be close by. Also, it was inappropriate to do so, even if she'd been the one to ask him to stay.
He hadn't been in bed with a woman since his wife, and before her there had been nothing regular for many years, only mere dalliances with witches he met in various taverns. No one was interested in a long-term relationship with a werewolf. Tonks had been different. She'd known who and what he was, and didn't care. They'd had sex a number of times before she'd finally managed to prise his head out of his arse and convince him she really wanted him. He'd treated her woefully, no wonder she had sunk into such a deep depression, at the time. He had fancied her, every unconventional inch of her, but it had taken her such a long time to convince him she truly wanted more. What a fucking waste of time it had been. If he'd only known how short a time they would have together …
There was no way he would ever be so stupid again. If another opportunity ever presented itself, he would grab it with both hands, not that it was likely to. More likely was that he would be hidden here forever, or dead before the year was out. At the unpleasant thought, he accidentally tightened his arm a little around Orla, and she must have felt it, for she shuffled slightly towards him and rested the side of her head on his nose. His lips were mere inches from her temple.
This is not the witch for you, Lupin, he warned himself.
He must not confuse comfort with attraction. They lived together, so a certain degree of closeness was inevitable, and Orla was so good with Teddy, he wasn't sure he would have coped half so well without the young Irish girl helping him. But, there was no possible way there could be anything more between them, for starters, she was even younger than Tonks had been, and Merlin knows he'd balked enough at that. Twenty years was too much.
Hermione and Severus.
The thought popped unbidden into his head, and he attempted to dampen it down straight away. Snape and Granger's situation was entirely different, the two of them were under a dark curse and were doing simply what they needed to do to stay alive. He would not use their misfortune to justify any kind of lusting over Orla Malfoy. She was a sweet girl, and he felt protective towards her, nothing more. She was now pregnant by a vile Death Eater, a hideous excuse for a wizard that would no doubt stake his claim on the child should he ever find out of her conception. That was the problem that Orla currently had facing her. Tomorrow, they would need to seek advice.
With more regret than he'd anticipated, he gently lifted his arm from atop her stomach and edged himself off the bed, stopping at the door to take one more glance at the sleeping girl before heading across the hall to his own bedroom, and to his peacefully-slumbering baby son.
-xxx-
Severus walked through the grounds of Hogwarts, across the huge sloping lawns that led down towards Hagrid's hut. He did not want to be too near the Forbidden Forest, lest the flames that he was about to conjure took hold of any trees, and nor did he want to make fire at night, which would glow brightly in the dark sky and may draw attention to what he was doing.
The stolen Horcruxes weighed heavy in his pocket, and in his heart. He had returned to the castle and retrieved the cup, the ring and the locket from where he had secreted them, behind Dumbledore's Pensieve. He intended to destroy them, once and for all. Even though Voldemort's attempts to reanimate the diary had been unsuccessful, it did not necessarily mean that all his future efforts would be, too, and he was unlikely to give up. If he managed to revive the piece of soul that had been kept inside the diary, he would be after the rest of these items, that was why they had been stored so securely.
Granger had told him that Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem had been obliterated in the Room of Requirement, so that Horcrux was out of the Dark Lord's reach, and therefore Severus planned to do the same with these three. Potter and the snake were both dead and their bodies disposed of, so those pieces of soul were also lost to him. It was only these three – the cup, ring and locket, and the diary which he had in his possession, that were viable targets for his attempts at reanimation.
Severus scored a circle in the grass, summoning rocks from the Forbidden Forest and placing them around the circle, building a wall of sorts, and casting a Solidifying spell to make them as strong as possible, not that they would contain Fiendfyre for long. His aim was to cast the enchanted fire, destroy the Horcruxes so that they could never be used again, and then magically douse the flames using the counter-curse before they burnt away too much of the ground. That had been Crabbe's mistake, Severus understood, that Vincent had cast the Fiendfyre but was unable to implement the counter-curse. Idiot, stupid boy.
He took the three objects from the inner pocket of his cloak, and threw them into the middle of the circle. They were important historical artefacts, especially to the school, being two items from Salazar Slytherin and one from Helga Hufflepuff, but the risk to humanity was too great if Voldemort was able to reanimate even the tiniest shred of his diseased soul inside them. They had to be destroyed.
Taking a deep breath and focusing all his magical energy and concentration, he cast the incantation for Fiendfyre, having to fight to hold his wand steady as the flames left the tip with such a powerful whoosh that a lesser wizard would have been knocked to the ground. No wonder Vincent Crabbe had lost control so easily in a room stuffed to the rafters with flammable magical objects. It was a miracle that he hadn't killed all six of them that had been in the Room of Hidden Things at the time, Granger included.
The ground caught light immediately, obliterating the Horcruxes into black powdered dust instantly. As he'd expected, the stones only held for a few seconds more, and the fire had already started to stream across the grass as he broke the spell and cast the counter-curse to douse the flames. It was all over within seconds, a scorched streak with one round end about twenty feet long, looking like a black comet, the only indicator that anything had happened here.
And that, Vincent Crabbe, is how you cast and control Fiendfyre.
Severus would leave the grass to grow over, since it had the whole summer to do so. He kicked the charred dust around, scattering the remains, ensuring that nothing was left of the three artefacts that had been used for such Dark purposes.
Satisfied, he turned to walk back to the school, when a face peering from the edge of the forest caught his eye, surprising him by its very presence.
"Who goes there?" he called, sharply, for no one apart from himself should be on the school grounds over the summer holidays.
"It is I, Firenze."
"Show yourself, Firenze! Have no fear, you are welcome here."
The centaur left the safety of the forest and trotted towards him, and Severus extended his hand to shake that of his former colleague, banished under the orders of Dolores Umbridge under the 'half-breed' laws.
"Have your herd remained in the forest since the banishment order was made?" Snape asked.
"We have. No one from the Ministry is fool enough to come searching any deeper than a few dozen feet into the Forbidden Forest. So long as they cannot see us, they presume us banished; the insignificant fools," Firenze replied, in disgust.
"I am pleased to hear that you are all safe. Do you know anything of Hagrid?"
"The half-giant lives in the shelter that he made for his brother, Grawp."
"Grawp? Rubeus had a giant living in the forest whilst he worked here?"
"He did. We all warned him against it, warned him that the giant could not be trained or socialised, but I have to admit he did have some degree of success."
"And where is this Grawp now?"
"He was killed in the battle of Hogwarts. Much larger and more vicious giants overpowered him easily as he fought for the school."
Severus' face fell. He had known nothing of this.
"Would you be able to take a message to Hagrid for me, Firenze? I do not wish to ask too much of you."
Severus knew he needed to remain respectful. Even though Firenze had taught at Hogwarts and been treated as a colleague when he had fallen foul of his herd, he was still a centaur, and centaurs could be proud, arrogant arseholes, when it suited them.
"And what should I say to him?"
"Please tell Hagrid that his hut in the school grounds is at his disposal during the summer. The castle is magically warded so that no one can enter apart from the Headmaster and my privately-invited guests, but the wards will not affect Hagrid leaving the forest and returning to his hut. Advise him that I will send house-elves to deliver his food; he should not attempt to enter the castle."
"I shall be pleased to pass that message on, Headmaster."
"Thank you, Firenze."
The centaur looked at him for a long while, in silence, as if appraising him.
"The time for confrontation and finality draws near," he said, cryptically.
"I do hope so," replied Snape, drily.
Firenze did not reply, but dipped his head slightly in farewell, before turning on his heel and galloping into the forest. Severus took one final look at the scorched streak on the lawn, and was pleased with his efforts. The Dark Lord would no doubt discover the theft of the Horcrux receptaclesoH, the only question was, when?
-xxx-
Hermione sat on the window seat in Shell Cottage, looking out at the beautiful Tinworth beach before her, which was a couple of hours before sunset and dappled a gorgeous colour in the evening sun. The windows and doors were flung open to allow a cooling sea breeze to blow through the house, as the hot July weather was making the small cottage warm and oppressive, especially for Fleur who was now entering her sixth month of pregnancy.
The Frenchwoman, her baby bump small and trim, was deep in conversation with Orla, who had just revealed her own unexpected pregnancy, by the Death Eater Yaxley, no less.
Hermione shuddered.
The backbone of this girl she'd only known properly for a few months, amazed her – if she were pregnant, let alone by the bastard who'd repeatedly raped her, Hermione wasn't sure that she would now be making plans for the future that involved a surprise infant daughter.
Hermione had no idea what she herself would do in that situation at all. Thank Merlin that Snape was so meticulous about ensuring she took the monthly contraceptive potion that he brewed personally.
Then again, Orla clearly had a strong maternal gene, she was wonderful with Teddy and was providing great help and support for Remus, back at Grimmauld Place. Having lost both her parents and having no other family apart from the odious Malfoys, perhaps it wasn't quite so surprising that she would cling on to the idea of having a piece of her own flesh and blood that she could keep, and could love.
Hermione, Orla, Remus and Teddy had all been invited to Shell Cottage for dinner, after Orla had talked with Fleur via the Floo connection and revealed her pregnancy. Charlie was cooking, and there were delicious smells wafting from the kitchen side of the room. Garth was trotting around his master's feet, getting in the way, but the occasional trodden toe he was receiving seemed worth it, as Charlie often tossed a scrap or tidbit the dragon's way as he prepared the meal. The two of them were quite comical together, as Garth clearly thought he was a kind of pet, like a dog or house-cat.
Hermione curled her legs beneath her on the gingham cushions, leaning back against the window-frame and breathing the fresh, salty air deeply into her lungs. All this being cooped up inside was no good; even if they did have the small garden at Grimmauld Place, it wasn't the same.
She watched Fleur walk into the kitchen area to collect drinks, and sweep her hand tenderly across Charlie's back as she passed him. The remaining Weasley turned to her, and Hermione could see the small, private smile on his tanned, freckled face; his ginger curls pulled back in a scruffy mass at the back of his head. Charlie leaned forwards and placed a gentle kiss on Fleur's nose, and then her lips, before putting the arm that was not stirring the pot around her, allowing her to lean against him.
He was still providing the support that his former sister-in-law needed, and it seemed that their relationship, however odd or inappropriate it was, was something they were both gaining strength and sustenance from. Who was anyone to deny them the shred of happiness they had found in the middle of their greatest despair?
Watching their chaste intimacy sent her mind spinning to the dark professor, the wizard who had instructed her body from its virgin state to become the instrument of pleasure it was now. Unsurprisingly, the compulsion picked up on her thoughts and she felt a pulse in her knickers. Now, that was inconvenient, since they were soon to be sitting down for dinner. Hermione hoped it was a slow-burn need, rather than a screaming urgency, since Charlie's crock-pot stew looked fabulous, and her mouth was watering.
She was distracted from her thoughts by a head in the fire, and a broad Irish voice calling out.
"Hello? Anybody there, now?"
Fleur went to answer the call, and it was Seamus, moaning loudly that no one had been at Grimmauld Place when he'd called there. Fleur advised that everyone was here, and after checking with Charlie that there was enough dinner, she opened the connection and invited Seamus through. Her effervescent friend filled the room with his loud voice and firm presence, and Hermione was happy to be wrapped up in a warm hug of greeting. Charlie then called everyone to the table, sending the plates over with a wave of his wand, that he then poked through the knot of hair at the back of his head to store it, since he wore a short-sleeved t-shirt with nowhere else to put it.
There was little talking after drinks had been poured, since they were all snaffling the delicious stew, but an amusing moment occurred when Teddy, who'd been sitting on Lupin's lap, made a grab for his father's plate, slapped his hand in the food, and then sat happily licking thick, meaty gravy from his little fist.
"Ahh, Remus, eet looks like Teddy will be 'aving real food sooner rather than later, yes?" Fleur remarked, laughing.
"Yes, he's certainly ready for something more than milk. I shall have to ask the Hogwarts elf who brings our food to start bringing a selection of baby purees too. Can you imagine the mess?" he asked, with a smile, as Teddy flicked gravy everywhere.
"And there'll soon be two of them," Orla cut in, and Seamus looked surprised, until she quickly and practically filled him in on the situation, and he whistled in shock.
"Bloody hell, Orla, you're a brave girl," he exclaimed.
"It is what it is," she shrugged, more nonchalantly than Hermione suspected she felt.
Charlie suddenly cleared his throat to catch everyone's attention.
"I hate to be the bringer of bad news, Orla, but have you thought about how the birth of this baby will be registered? Magical births are different from Muggle ones. If you are unmarried, you have to present yourself at the Ministry and supply the name of the father so that his name can be added to the child's magical birth certificate. He's then contacted to confirm his acceptance of his responsibilities, even if he is not with the mother."
"What? I can't do that!" she replied, looking shaken.
"You have to. The Ministry can tell when a magical child is born, the archives record everything, even in the case of Muggle-borns. It's how the Book of Names works, the record that's kept at Hogwarts for admissions. They know if a magical person is born, they know if one dies. If a new witch or wizard is born, and the parents are not married, the woman who has given birth is required to go the Ministry and register. The only exception to this is if the child is fully Muggle-born, I mean, to two Muggles, in which case the record is kept in the Book of Names and contacted the year they turn eleven. You are a witch and the father is a wizard, you will not be exempt."
"I can't have Yaxley knowing that he has fathered a child with me! I would never be safe from him for the rest of my life!"
"I agree, that would be dangerous," Remus agreed, looking concerned.
"It's a sad day when you wish your brother had fathered your child, rather than the raping scum who actually did," Orla observed, so acidly that it made most of the others wince at her brutal honesty.
"Hang on, Charlie," Seamus cut in. "You said if the parents are not married. What if they are?"
"If a magical birth is recorded, and the mother is married, whether to a wizard or to a Muggle man, then the birth is automatically registered with the husband and wife as the parents."
"But how do they know?" Seamus pressed.
Charlie paused, apparently wondering if Seamus was asking what he thought he was.
"They don't, I suppose," he conceded, finally. "All my younger siblings' births were automatically registered because my parents were married."
"So technically," Seamus continued, "if the wife been carrying on an affair, and had a baby that wasn't her husband's, it would still be registered as if it was?"
Charlie shrugged.
"I suppose so. I've never thought of it that way, but yes, it must do."
"That must have been what happened when I was born," Orla interjected. "I don't have a magical birth certificate, only a Muggle one. Despite my real father being a wizard, because she was married to my father, he was presumed to be my biological one."
"Easy then," Seamus concluded, snapping his fingers. "Get married to me, Orla. Then when the baby is born, she'll be registered with me as the father. That fecking cunt Yaxley will never know, and nor will the Malfoys. We can get divorced once all this shite is over."
Gasps of surprise rang out around the table at Seamus' audacious offer, and mouths fell open. Garth copied them, from his position next to Charlie's plate, dropping his mouth open and letting a chunk of meat fall out, which made them all laugh and broke the tension somewhat.
"That's a fine offer, Seamus," Lupin said, appearing tense, "but you do realise a magical marriage needs to be genuine in all senses of the word, to be legally binding? You would need to undertake a bonding ceremony, live together, and consummate your union."
"I'm willing to do that," Finnigan shot back. "Orla, are you with me? What do you think?"
"I think … I think that it's a really clever idea, Seamus, and I'm grateful for your offer, but I wouldn't expect you to commit to something as serious as a legal, magical bonding just to help me."
"Honestly, I don't mind. We're all standing together here, aren't we?"
"It's a great offer, Orla," Charlie chipped in. "It will keep your daughter's paternity secret and also rids you of the Malfoy name, as a marriage trumps a birth name, for a witch."
"I said no!" Orla shouted, shocking them all as she rose from her seat, laying her napkin firmly on her plate and pushing her chair back so that she could leave the table.
"It's a no," she repeated, more calmly, this time. "It is a really kind offer, Seamus, and I do sincerely thank you, but I can't do it. I can't be in a marriage like that, just because of a baby, like my mother was. If you'll all excuse me, I need … some time. Thank you for dinner, Charlie, and for inviting me, Fleur."
Nodding her goodbyes to the rest, Orla walked determinedly towards the fireplace and scooped up a handful of Floo powder, throwing it on to the flames whilst she called out for Grimmauld Place. In a whoosh of green, she was gone, leaving a table full of surprised people behind her.
"It ees ze 'ormones," explained Fleur. "Orla ees not 'erself. Give 'er time. She will change 'er mind, I am sure."
"That was really noble, Seamus," Charlie reassured their friend. "As well as being a damn good idea."
Remus got to his feet, his expression grave and thoughtful.
"I am going to see if she is alright," he explained. "Hermione, you will be staying here for a while, yes?"
"Oh … yes, of course," she replied, getting the distinct impression that the question was actually more of a request. "Shall I bring Teddy through later, when I return?"
"I will 'ave ze bebe while you are gone," offered Fleur, who also seemed to have realised that Remus may need some time alone with Orla, and held out her arms for the child.
"Thank you," he said, gratefully, passing his son to Fleur. "I appreciate that."
Lupin did not elaborate further, but walked towards the fireplace and disappeared the same way that Orla had, just a few minutes previously.
Fleur gave Hermione a meaningful look, although Charlie and Seamus both appeared blissfully ignorant. Perhaps that was for the best. If there was anyone Orla needed at the moment, it was the solid, dependable Remus Lupin. He would give her the comfort, reassurance and support that she needed, no doubt about that.
Once the dinner things had been cleared, she volunteered to do the washing-up, mostly to get out of babysitting, but also to attempt to distract herself from the compulsion, which was building up to an irritating niggle that refused to back down. As she scrubbed the dishes by hand, the Muggle way, to string out the maximum time in the kitchen, Hermione felt a little guilty that part of her was actually welcoming of the compulsion, because it meant she had a reason to go to Snape. At present, being in close proximity to her former professor was like finding her happy place.
In the midst of this war, this chaos, after such great losses, she had found something with this wizard that she'd never have expected in a million years. Did she love him? Hermione wasn't sure. He could be correct in his advice, that all her very large feelings could all be linked to the compulsion. She had to wait until it was lifted, only then could she be sure. It was worrying, that she might not be in control of her own feelings and emotions, that these were being controlled by the dark curse.
Especially when those feelings were so strong.
Once night began to fall, they sat outside on the veranda, still close enough to the cottage to be within the protective wards of the Fidelius charm, and watched as Charlie transformed into his Animagus form for their entertainment, and for his own exercise. Seamus was blown away, exclaiming wildly at how impressed he was, and how he wanted to become an Animagus, too, a swarthy fox, like his Patronus.
Charlie was magnificent as a dragon. His movements were stunning, and he knew exactly how to move his animal form, no doubt from years of studying Dragonology. He had not managed to remove the crazy tuft of red hair from the top of the dragon's head, but Fleur stated that she rather liked it, and that it made the dragon look very handsome.
Garth was flapping around on the sand, being encouraged to spread his wings by the larger dragon, who he seemed to know was his master. Garth never tried to fly unless Charlie was in his Animagus form, and it was wonderful to see him propel his little body to soar into the air, even if he did plop out of the sky shortly afterwards, hence why Charlie practised him over the sea – since the little dragon could swim, but not fly, and the warm seawater was the perfect place for crash landings.
It really was a pleasant way to spend an evening, especially knowing that she had justifiable cause to put in a Floo call to the Headmaster's office when she returned home.
-xxx-
Remus stepped over the fireplace in the Grimmauld Place kitchen, looking around for Orla, who had just left Shell Cottage a few minutes before. She was not there, but the door to the hallway was open, indicating that she must be in another part of the house. He had a quick look in the sitting room and then the library, before heading upstairs to her bedroom, tapping on the door as he had done the night before.
There was no answer, and so, worried, he turned the handle and pushed the door open anyway, murmuring his apologies for intruding. Orla was standing by the window, looking out into the London square of Grimmauld Place, just a normal, Muggle residential street, aside from the hidden number twelve. He walked over to her, and placed his hand on her back.
Orla looked up at him, although she was only a few inches shorter than he, her white-blonde hair spilling around her shoulders. She had not been crying, but in her eyes he could detect a sadness that he recognised only too well.
"Are you alright?" he asked, and she nodded. "Teddy is being cared for at Shell Cottage, for the time being. I wanted to come and speak with you. You left rather abruptly."
She sighed, and pushed her hair back from her face.
"I don't want to marry Seamus," she replied, going a little red in the face.
"Nobody said you had to. But you must admit, it was a good suggestion for your … current situation."
"It was. I know it was."
"Seamus Finnigan is a good man."
Orla sighed again, and turned fully towards him.
"But, Remus, he isn't … he's not … not you."
He stared at her, not sure whether he had just misheard or misunderstood the words that had just spilled from her mouth.
"Would you do it?" she asked. "Would you bond with me, to help me hide this baby? I know it's a massive, huge ask, but you know, we are both in hiding here, together, anyway, and I can help with Teddy, and you can …"
"Orla," he interrupted. "That is a terrible idea. I would be terrible for you. I am grieving, I am a mess, not to mention twenty years older than you."
"I'm grieving too," she whispered. "And I live with your mess, every day. We are, to all intents and purposes, co-habiting. I'll understand if the idea is abhorrent to you, I would not pressure you to do anything against your will."
"I love my wife, Orla," he replied, in a low voice that cracked as he spoke.
"I know you do, and I am not seeking to take her place. I am not asking you to love me, Remus, I am asking you to help me. To live a life with me that we are practically living already."
He took a deep breath, and released it, slowly and cautiously.
"It is the practically part that I am concerned about. You do realise what you are asking me? That a bonding will need to be consummated to be legally and magically binding? You are a rape victim, Orla, and have recently lost your boyfriend."
"I feel safe with you," she offered, in way of an answer.
"I cannot do that to you," he insisted, for although her reasoning had merits, he just … couldn't.
She looked up at him, her ice-blue eyes clear and searching.
"Then don't do it to me. Do it with me. It only has to be once, after the ceremony. Like Seamus said, once the world is less crazy, you can divorce me."
Did she think so little of herself? He must address that, now.
"The problem is," he croaked, preparing himself to be utterly honest, to let his guard down, "is that I am just a mere wizard, just a man with human needs, and I fear that I would not be content … with once."
Comprehension filled those blue eyes.
He had said too much. He had scared the girl.
Orla reached out her hands and put them on his shoulders, tiptoeing slightly, and then leaned forwards, placing the lightest of kisses on his starved lips, sending a shiver of pleasure through his body that ended up somewhere near his toes. She stood back down.
"If your only worry is for me, then don't. Over the last year, I have proved myself stronger than I ever imagined possible, and in a few months I will have a daughter to care for, and to keep hidden from her father. I would be proud if you would allow both she and I to bear your name, and to live under your protection until this world of ours becomes a safe place again."
"I am not sure the protection of a fugitive werewolf is of any great benefit to you," he replied, but he could not help slipping his arms around her waist, the feel of her body beneath his hands immediately revealing how long he had wanted to hold her, to hold someone.
"You are all the protection I need, if you will help me? I realise that it is a huge ask."
Orla slid her hands up his arms as he held her around the waist, one hand reaching behind the back of his neck and making all the hairs stand on end with the thrill of being touched.
"As you so coherently point out, we are living together as a family already. We are raising Teddy like two parents."
"I would never presume to take your wife's place, Remus. I do not expect you to love me."
He felt a pain in his chest, and was unsure whether it was because of his grief for Tonks, or sadness at the acceptance in the girl's words. Perhaps it was both.
"You will not take her place, Orla. You will occupy a different one."
He could reconcile that in his confused head. She would not take the place of his son's mother. But he would create a new place in his heart for her – he could do that. Leaning forwards, he did something that, if he was honest, he'd been wanting to do for a while now.
He kissed her.
He pressed his mouth to Orla's and began to move his lips, feeling her hands grip his shoulders and thinking rather inanely that his beard and moustache could have done with a trim, they were a little overgrown. She didn't seem to mind, however, and he was gratified to see her eyes close as she sank against him, and her body felt wonderful, the warmth of another person so close to him was nothing short of heavenly.
They kissed for a short while, nothing heavy, and his tongue stayed firmly inside his own mouth. Remus enjoyed moving his mouth around hers, planting searching little kisses, and longer, more intense ones on her incredibly soft lips where he plied them gently with his own. She was so tender, so considerate. That anyone could have hurt this lovely girl made him feel sick.
Orla broke the kiss, dropped her arms, and took a step back, creating a small distance between them.
"So, do you think we can do this?" she asked, a tentative smile on her face, as if desperate for his approval and agreement.
Remus raised his arms and took hold of her face in both his hands, cupping her face and tilting it so that she could see the sincerity in his eyes.
"Here is my answer," he whispered, keeping hold of her face and gifting her with another kiss, pressing harder this time, allowing his mouth to open and his tongue to push forwards, between her lips and slowly opening them, finding her own tongue warm and willing.
Snogging her open-mouthed, Remus slipped one hand behind her head to keep it steady, enjoying the feel of that silky-smooth hair tickling his fingers. The other hand he dropped around her shoulders, his large palm splayed across her back as continued to lavish attention upon her mouth, receiving an equal amount in return. Their tongues swirled together, discovering one another, the thrill of a first kiss not lost of either of them, despite the circumstances.
He felt her arms thread around his waist as he kissed her thoroughly, and desperately, like a drowning man thrown a life-raft.
It felt good.
