Spoiler Alert: The idea for this chapter sparked a whole new, elaborate, multi-chapter story which I have been working on in spurts lately and which I hope to post when I have more of it laid out. This chapter contains a rather dramatic scene from the middle of that story, which is about the bombing of Knocktourn Alley, the old and new prejudices still festering in the Wizarding world, and exactly how easy it is to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. There's much more to it than what's in this chapter, but if you want to read it when it is posted, this will give away certian important details. I realize since it's not up as of 12/27/12, most of you won't see much of a point in skipping this, in which case you now have some context and can consider it a preview.

Divulse: to tear away or apart.

June 8, 2022

Nothing had ever been quite this bad before. Teddy slumped against the wall at the bottom of the empty St. Mungo's stairwell hugging his knees and shivering. They kept it so damned cold in here. Why did it need to be this cold? Was it to prepare people for bad news? He put his head between his knees, closing his eyes and trying not to smell the blood that still soaked his robes. God, it had never been this bad before.

Teddy thought back to the other times he'd been here: the few times Harry had been injured badly in a case, when James had gotten into the potions cupboard when he was four and drunk half a bottle for dreamless sleep, when Gran had gotten ill last spring. None of it was as bad as this.

The door opened. A warm body slid down next to him, arms twining around his torso, a long curtain of hair falling over his arms.

"Anything?" he managed on a jagged breath.

"No," Victoire murmured apologetically.

"Harry come yet?"

She hesitated. "Yes, but he couldn't stay. Ron's staying. The whole lot of 'em are here. They'll stay."

"I think I'm going to be sick," Teddy choked.

Victoire hastily helped him lean forward, conjuring a basin and rubbing his shoulders, but nothing came up. There was nothing left in him.

"Are you sure you're alright? Have you been checked by a healer?"

"I'm fine," Teddy gasped, pushing away her solicitous hands. "It's not me you've got to –"

He broke off as a sudden sob hitched in his chest.

"Hey, come here," Victoire murmured, moving to kneel in front of him. "It's going to be alright, Teddy."

"How do you know?"

But she didn't. "You need to be cleaned up," she said instead, pulling out her wand and beginning to siphon away the scarlet that stained his hands all the way up to his shoulders, his chest. It was everywhere. "Teddy? Hey, Teddy, breathe, alright? You've got to breathe."

Teddy leaned his head back against the wall as she quietly cleaned him up. He sucked in long, slow breaths, trying to calm down, trying not to think.

"Vic?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't want to have kids."

She paused, wand over his heart, thrown. "What?"

"A family, kids. We're supposed to get married in two months. You should know."

"But I thought you always wanted a big family. Like Dad had, remember? And Ginny? You say we'll have our own football team and I say only if you give birth to half of them."

Teddy gritted his teeth and shook his head. "We can't."

"Alright, now is not the time for a conversation like this. You've been in shock. Let's just get through this. We've got years and years to talk about kids."

"Don't you understand?" he demanded, eyes snapping open. "My life is Harry's life. Our parents both died at the very end of a war fighting for us. We both had to find families to adopt us in, both fell in love with Weasleys to be a part of those families for real, both became Aurors. And thanks to us, those families got torn apart. For Harry it was Fred, for me…. So I can see twenty years into my future and if we have those kids and that white picket fence and a happily ever after, it's just going to get ripped away. I can't raise kids just to lose one of them, just knowing it's going to happen and waiting. We can't have kids, Vic. We can't do it, not if you marry me."

Victoire said nothing for a moment. Then, just when Teddy expected her to pull off the ring he'd put on her finger fifteen months before and fling it at the wall, she said, "Teddy Lupin, that is the biggest load of dragon dung I've ever heard,"

"Vic –"

"No, you listen to me," she cut him off fiercely, leaning down until they were almost nose-to-nose. "First of all, your life is your own and the only reasons it resembles Harry's is because he raised you and your fathers were best friends and made similar choices. Second, what happened to Al isn't your fault, you self-centered prat."

"It was my shift, Vic. If I'd been there –"

"You'd be dead, Teddy."

"I'd've seen him, and I'd've dragged him out of there and back to where he was supposed to be, and Travis wouldn't be –"

"You'd be dead, Teddy, and we'd all be a lot worse off than we are right now, me in particular, so that'll be the end of you feeling guilty. Third, nothing has been torn apart just yet. Al's going to pull through –"

"You didn't see him," Teddy gasped, holding his arms out as if he were still carrying Albus. "God, Vic, there was just so much blood – everywhere."

"I know, baby, I know." She put her hands on either side of his face. "But that's my little cousin back there, and I'm not giving up on him until they tell me it's over and they've closed the curtains. Nothing is getting ripped apart, Teddy, do you hear me?"

She was almost shouting in his face, hands still pressed against either side of his head. He nodded, taking great, heaving breaths.

"Good."

Victoire collapsed against him, burying her wet face in his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her. God, things had never been this bad before.