Children

(_)(_)(_)

1949 – 1950

Adapting to being Head of the Family, and the changes in his magic due to the merging, proved to be both simple and ridiculously complicated at the same time. One of the easiest parts, ironically enough, had been transferring all the family records to the Den and organizing it to his satisfaction.

The absolute easiest, of course, had involved Gringotts. As he'd promised Zartang, the first thing he did after he became head was to transfer the Weasley family vaults into Zartang's control. Much to his amusement, Zartang had actually cackled over the challenge of doing with the collective Weasley funds what he had done with Septimus and Cedrella's private account. Septimus had little doubt that in very short order, the Weasleys would be enjoying a collective wealth they hadn't since that run of idiot Heads.

The third thing he'd done - after transferring the family records to the Den - was write every living Weasley, to confirm what sort of condition they and their family were in, and what skills everyone had. For the most part, while the answer on the financial end was 'making ends meet and nothing more', things were pretty good. A few folks needed more or better housing due to increases in their family size, or help shoring up the warding of their homes. Given the sheer number of Weasleys, it was fairly easy to find someone in the family with the requisite skills that lived close enough and ask them to help with those cases. More than one person asked for advice and assistance with investment of their private funds, and Septimus gave them the advice that had gotten his and Cedrella's funds in such a rosy picture.

The fourth thing he'd done - which happened just after he'd sent the letters to his kinfolk - and by far the most problematic was Septimus' entrance into the Wizengamot. Harfang had been pleased and relieved to have him there. Harfang had found his feet, to be sure, but it would be a lot easier on the quietest Marauder with one of his fellows there for immediate backup assistance. Septimus had made the decision to keep his entrance as low-key as was possible. Their triad wasn't complete yet, after all, and they had planned to wait until all three of them were in the Wizengamot to really start rocking the boat. Septimus needed to slide in as quietly as he could so as to gain as many allies as possible before then, rather than stomping in, causing a scene, and making everyone hate him his first day.

It was now that all of Cedrella's extra tutelage, both what she had gotten from Sirius and what she had imparted to Septimus over the years in preparation, paid its dividends. Septimus would never be comfortable with the lying, scheming, double-dealing, and other unpleasantness that happened in the Wizengamot. He at least knew how to handle it when it was aimed at him, could actually spot the nastier stuff when it was going on, and could lie straight-faced himself if necessary to mislead antagonistic Wizengamot members. Both he and Cedrella had immediately vetoed any attempt at Septimus actively participating in double-dealing, blackmailing, or any of the other dirty tactics common to certain members of the Wizengamot. It went against everything Septimus had stood for since he could remember for one, and he just didn't have the mentality to pull it off for another. Not to mention the fact that he needed to keep his nose as clean as was possible if he was going to have any chance at establishing a *good* reputation in that pit of vipers.

That said, he was almost looking forward to the first time some idiot tried to blackmail or otherwise coerce him. That was going to be fun. Because it was completely legal for Septimus to demand an honor duel if someone went too far. The person he called out would then either have to apologize or duel him. It was something he planned to take full advantage of, as most of the Heads in the Wizengamot were quite a bit older than he was, and hadn't been in a duel (if they'd been in one at all) since they were the age Septimus was now. He'd wipe the floor with pretty much all of them.

He figured it would only take him challenging would-be coercers to a duel once or twice before the word spread and people started thinking twice about trying to strong-arm him. Finding out that he would not hesitate to actually duel to defend his honor - and that he could beat their asses fairly easily - would make all but the nastiest think twice about messing with him. After that, people would mostly leave him alone, at least in that respect.

Seeing the Wizengamot from the inside was disconcertingly upsetting. He'd paid attention to his father's rants and calmer discussions about it, so he had known it was bad. He hadn't quite realized just how bad it was, thouhg, and how little actually got done in a day.

The Wizengamot sessions were supposed to start at nine am. Most days, they didn't get started until 10, between people arriving late and/or carrying on conversations despite attempts to get them to shut up and sit down. Once everyone was finally seated, they'd go over the minutes of the last session, which would invariably cause an argument as someone (usually more than one someone) contested something in the minutes. When that finally got settled and they finished the reading of the minutes, it'd be nearly noon, and they'd open up the old business.

Opening the old business invariably included an argument over which bit of old business to start on first. This included motions and countermotions and calls for votes. If they were lucky and managed to agree on what to start working on, they'd reach that agreement right about lunchtime, which was a two-hour break.

They would reconvene around three pm and if necessary finish figuring out what old business they were going to work on, then start actually working on the old business. That involved a lot of speeches and arguments – most of which got quite heated – and on many occasions outright name-calling. On more than one occasion, there was an actual fistfight in the chamber. Septimus was damn sure that only the fact that pulling your wand in a Wizengamot meeting except to give an oath or register a vote would get you a stint in Azkaban kept things from devolving into duels on those occasions. If they were incredibly lucky, they'd wrap up the particular bit of old business they'd started working on, but many days they didn't manage that.

Suffice it to say, by the time two months of meetings had passed, Septimus fully understood why his father had said he didn't have the temperament for dealing with the Wizengamot. Even Septimus had been highly tempted to smack a few heads together most days. It was like watching a bunch of toddlers have tantrums all at once.

The Wizengamot may have been the most headache-inducing part of being a Head, but getting used to the changes in his magic took Septimus a long time - nearly a full year. It wasn't that he was more powerful or something like that, but the family magic altered how his magic worked somewhat, and it took Septimus a while to get used to it.

All in all, it made for a rather hectic time. Before Septimus quite realized it, his and Cedrella's tenth anniversary arrived. They celebrated it quietly, as was their usual wont.

Septimus took the day off (rather gratefully, it must be said) and they spent a rather delightful and lazy morning indeed, between sleeping in and then making love until they'd worn each other out. They'd settled in to enjoy a late brunch that qualified more as actual lunch due to the hour when Cedrella glanced over at him.

"I got you a little something, my dear." She said.

Septimus blinked. Unlike with Muggle marriages, anniversaries didn't have gift requirements. Granted, he'd still gotten Cedrella a bouquet of her favorite flowers every year, but that had been it. "Ced, you know you don't have to …"

Cedrella grinned at him. "Oh, but I'm pretty sure this is something you'll want." She said as she handed over a small box wrapped in bright paper.

Septimus almost didn't take it, because Cedrella had the gleam in her eye that meant she was up to no good. A Black up to no good was dangerous … even if they weren't out to kill you. That had never changed with Cedrella (or her sister or cousin), and it had kept the male Marauders on their toes over the years.

He couldn't resist pulling his wand and poking at the present, much to Cedrella's visible amusement. Only when he'd assured himself there wasn't anything obvious going on, and had time to remind himself that Cedrella wouldn't be this overt about a prank, he opened it.

Inside the box lay a baby blanket, bonnet, and booties.

Septimus stared at them a second before the implications hit him, and then his head snapped up and he stared at Cedrella, eyes wide. "Ced – you … "

She just grinned and nodded.

Septimus whooped, jumped to his feet, snatched her up and started to swing her around. Halfway through the swing, he realized what he was doing, and that it might not be a good idea, and abruptly put her down.

"Oh, Merlin, sorry … I, you aren't … ?"

Cedrella laughed at his complete inability to spit out a complete sentence. "I'm fine, Septimus. No morning sickness to speak of, and certainly no problem with dizziness. I honestly wouldn't even have suspected I was pregnant if it hadn't been for the fact I hadn't needed to attend to certain matters for the last two months. I checked with a healer last week while you were in the Wizengamot and they confirmed it."

Thankfully, she realized he'd put her down in deference to a potentially tetchy stomach, something she knew his mother had suffered from early in her last pregnancy from tales he'd told her, and not because he thought she was suddenly delicate, breakable and helpless. He didn't want to know how badly she'd have hexed him if she thought he'd done it because of that. Septimus grinned at her and then proceeded to kiss her silly.

They ended up spending the rest of the day curled up together. It took a few hours before Septimus was coherent enough to put a whole sentence together, which managed to amuse even him. He'd not quite expected to have that strong a reaction to the prospect of becoming a father.

"I'm surprised you didn't do that in front of the gang." He admitted to her. "So that I wouldn't ever get to live it down."

"Oh, you won't." Cedrella said with a wicked grin. "But this, I wanted all to myself. A wife has to have some ammunition friends don't, after all."

"I'm doomed." Septimus said, trying to sound doleful and not really managing. Mostly because he kept breaking out in a stupid, goofy grin every so often. This sort of doom and gloom, he definitely didn't mind.

The Marauders spent the next few months giving Septimus all kinds of hell. The worst part was, he really didn't blame them. He had an unfortunate tendency to be a bit goofy about the whole thing, and had to actively restrain himself from dancing attendance on Cedrella like she was delicate and helpless.

Fortunately for everyone involved, Cedrella had a remarkably easy pregnancy, virtually devoid of any of the maladies that frequently struck pregnant women. Doubly fortunately, she was more amused by Septimus' antics than annoyed, and didn't take any of it the wrong way.

"Truthfully, I'd be more offended if you weren't so wound up about your firstborn." Cedrella told him at one point. "Mother said that any man worth having would be invested in the whole process."

They spent the months making all sorts of plans – the usual grandiose daydreams and plans first-time parents have a tendency to indulge in. They argued amiably over names. Cedrella insisted on picking at least one girl's name, despite the fact there hadn't been a female Weasley born in generations.

"It'd be just our luck to not have a girl's name picked, and have a girl." She pointed out, and Septimus really couldn't argue with that sort of logic.

Septimus raided his parents' home for the bulk of the baby supplies they'd need, including clothes for the first months. A newborn infant wasn't going to care if it was wearing secondhand clothes, after all. In the end, they'd needed only diapers, bottles, and a few other odds and ends.

Septimus had cause to thank all that Auror training he'd had when Cedrella went into labor. It kept him from completely losing his head. He hadn't managed to keep his head completely, but he hadn't been a useless wreck, either. He managed to get them to St. Mungo's without too much dithering, and even remembered to call the other Marauders.

It was just as well that he had called them in, because Cedrella's luck as regarded an easy pregnancy ran out when it came to the actual birth. She was in labor for two full days. Charlus and Harfang had to literally drag him out of the room whenever the Healers had enough of his pacing and fretting and banished him for a time. He would end up pacing the corridors for a few hours until he couldn't handle it anymore, then storm back into the room with Cedrella, starting the cycle all over again. He didn't sleep the entire time, and only drank or ate if Charlus or Harfang forced something on him.

While Charlus and Harfang dealt with Septimus, Dorea and Callidora did what they could to help Cedrella, which mostly amounted to distracting her as best they could with gossip, and making sure she didn't get her hands on her wand whenever she hit a 'I'm going to hex his balls off' episode.

Finally, however, their firstborn made his way into the world. Despite the fact he was squash-faced, nearly puce, and honestly ugly as all get out, Septimus was smitten the instant the tiny bundle was put in his arms. Cedrella, much to her amusement, almost literally had to prise the babe out of Septimus' arms in order to feed the tyke.

They decided to call him Arthur.