NOTE

Content warning: depression, minor injury, and the Ministry being appalling.

27. In Your Husband's Absence

I swayed slightly from lightheadedness as I stepped out of the fireplace in Hogsmeade, tracking ashes onto the floor. Severus had gone first, and was there with his arm at the ready, in case I fell. I almost took it, but shook my head and steadied myself in time.

The only fireplace in Hogsmeade connected to the floo network was in The Three Broomsticks. It was in a back room, so that travellers could come and go without disturbing the guests. There were no guests now, of course, except for a couple of villagers nursing drinks by the window. Madam Rosmerta had heard us arrive and was ready to offer us warm drinks on the house, but Severus politely refused, and I was glad. The thought of sitting down in silence with nothing to say to each other was mortifying.

It wasn't raining or snowing, but a cold wind blew. We walked down the high street and onto the path through the woods, which would lead to Hogwarts.

Severus remained watchful of me, not ignorant of the fact that my knees were weak. But I didn't want any physical help. I didn't want anyone to see me and worry.

I felt terrible, knowing that now probably everyone at the school would know that Remus had left me. I didn't want pity, and I also didn't want anyone thinking badly of Remus, or the word getting around. I remembered the concern of Neville's grandmother in Diagon Alley, and the wizards staring at us on Christmas Eve. I didn't want those people to think they'd been proven right. Even if, objectively, they had.

I realised that, because Severus hadn't known about the pregnancy, Trelawney must not have mentioned it to anyone. That provided some small comfort. When she had read in the tea-leaves that I was with child, had she also seen the end it would come to? I was anxious to catch sight of her, to see if I could tell the answer by her reaction to seeing me again.

We walked through the evening woods and across the bridge to the castle. Dinner had ended, and the great hall was empty. There were only the great candles in their sconces along the walls, the silent stone knights in their familiar rows.

"I'll get something from the kitchens," Severus said.

I was again surprised by his efforts to be accommodating. I didn't want his pity, but this didn't seem quite like pity.

"I'm not hungry," I told him.

He visibly decided not to argue. Something in his presence, both wary and prepared, made my body feel frail and confused. My hormones had been fluctuating madly since the day before yesterday, and now I began to shed tears for no apparent reason.

Severus averted his gaze, and I was grateful to him for that. "Will the bedroom you've been using be suitable?"

I realised he was asking if it would bring back memories too painful.

"It will," I said. I knew it wasn't wise, but there was nothing I wanted more than to sink down in the familiar feeling of those sheets, to stand under the water of that shower, to feel the ghost of Remus's presence.

"If you have any pain, come to me," he said.

"I will."

"Be sure to sleep tonight."

I would try, but if I wound up tossing and turning, well, there was little I could do about that.

The next day dawned slowly, and I woke up when the birds were already flying across the thin grey clouds, around ten o'clock. It was raining.

I felt a painfully familiar heaviness in my body. The telltale signal of depression, which I knew all too well from the months after the battle. I forced myself out of bed, for if I didn't, I would linger there all day… or for days. I sat in the window for a while, like a cat, watching the rain. Everything looked grey.

I managed to clean myself up, to take a slow shower and dress slowly in the clothes I'd left here in my hurry to follow Remus. I went downstairs in time for lunch.

Seamus had left, and now it was only Luna, Neville and I who sat together at one of the tables, while the professors sat together at another. I saw McGonagall, looking grateful to see me back, with something else behind her eyes. Perhaps a very old, heavily guarded heartbreak of her own. Trelawney also caught my eye. She looked mournful, her wide eyes watering, but nodded to me. I realised that my suspicions last night had been correct. She must have known. That was why she had seemed so very nervous that whole evening after reading the tea leaves, why Remus had noticed her looking at me anxiously.

Luna and Neville seemed to have decided together not to mention anything about Remus. The silence on the subject was painful, but I preferred it to suddenly breaking down in tears at the mention of his name.

Severus glanced at me only once, quite sharply, and then looked away again; and it was as if I had only imagined it.

There wasn't much to do now that the castle was fully healed. With the rain outside, which had grown heavier, I decided to stay inside and keep to the library, where I was left alone.

My mind was firmly set on the approach of the full moon.

I couldn't imagine where Remus would go if he didn't come back for the wolfsbane potion. We had never spoken about where he had gone before the marriage law, in those months when he had isolated himself away from every other soul. But I imagined that it was someplace cold and remote, and deeply lonely. What I feared most was that he would hurt himself if he transformed without the potion. He had hurt himself even iwith/i the potion, out of guilt and fear after our mandated intercourse. It was surely reasonable for me to assume that he would do so again, given what he had done this time.

Boldly I asked Severus if he would send a patronus to Remus, asking him to come back for the moon. There was only one day left, and if he didn't return soon then Severus would be unable to make the potion anyway. It had to stand in the light of the moon to work. "If he doesn't come back tomorrow, then he could come back and at least have somewhere safe to stay."

Severus's face was hard and unfeeling. I knew that it was a wild request, but I couldn't send a patronus myself.

"You should go to Diagon Alley," Severus said, avoiding my question. "You need a wand."

He was right, of course, but I didn't want to leave the castle. I was exhausted from travelling from place to place, and I wanted to stay still for a little while. Besides, I had an irrational feeling that staying put at Hogwarts meant Remus would come back, and leaving meant that I was giving up on him.

"Would you?" I asked Severus again. "Please?"

He turned away and stiffly conjured his doe. But I feared even as I listened to him repeat my message that Remus would not listen to him.

"Thank you," I said, getting emotional again as the doe disappeared. Even if it was a long shot, there was still some hope.

I passed the following twenty-four hours in deep anxiety, unconsciously chewing on the insides of my cheeks until they bled, as I paged through the books in the library.

The next day arrived, and the next. The time had come and gone for the first dose of the potion. He wasn't going to come.

Poppy asked my permission to write to the ministry requesting an exemption for me, given Remus's absence. I hadn't even been thinking about the requirements of the law, but my body ached as I acknowledged the loss. It had been more difficult than I'd allowed myself to admit, being without him. There was something binding between us, and it hurt to be separated from him.

There was a deep loneliness, also, that came from suffering through the aftereffects of the miscarriage on my own. Mostly I tried to ignore it, but sometimes I lingered on it too long, and fell into a pit of sad tears. Severus had helped me through it, but I didn't feel as though I could approach him to talk about it. Andromeda was the only woman who knew I had been pregnant, but I hadn't heard any word from her since leaving Hunston.

Molly had written to me, of course. There had been a dreadful couple of days of silence after I'd left the Burrow in the middle of the night. I knew I had betrayed my family's trust by leaving after I'd promised to stay. Especially when everyone had planned to arrive at the Burrow to celebrate my birthday. But when Molly's letter came it was warm and supportive, telling me she understood, and only wanted to know that I was safe back at Hogwarts. I replied telling her I was. I knew that I could have told her about the miscarriage if I'd wanted to. She would have given me the warmth and love I needed now–the mothering. But I was too afraid to write about it. It still felt, in many ways, like a bad dream.

I considered telling Poppy, but knew that she would be required to notify the ministry. I agreed that she could send a letter about Remus being gone. Surely the ministry would provide an exemption.

I dreamed I was lying in the cold white bed in Remus's cottage. The wind was high outside the window, which was wide open. I was waiting for him, waiting, waiting… Then from outside there came a crack half-swallowed by the storm. Someone was walking around the house, robes trailing over the ground. The narrow, spider-like fingers of lightning descended from the heavens with a menacing silence. I rose from the bed and walked into the front room. The lock on the door was slowly turning.

I woke up gasping and sweating.

Pressing my palm to my chest and breathing slowly to make my heartbeat slow down, I untangled myself from the bedsheets and felt my feet on the floor. It was morning. The storm of the previous few days had abated to a faint and gentle rainfall. Birds were singing in the forest.

I went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, stripping off my sweat-soaked clothes and cleansing myself of the dream under the steady warm water.

I'd been no stranger to nightmares like that throughout the war. I had no doubt that the person walking outside of the house had been Voldemort. My fear for Remus's safety must have been very strong, if the old and mostly vanquished fear of the Dark Lord had returned to plague my subconscious.

I stepped out of the shower a few minutes later, dried myself off and put on my dressing gown while I searched my carpet bag for some clean clothes. I hadn't been able to wash them because of my lack of a wand. The castle had worked some of its overnight magic, though, and all of my clothes–except for the ones I'd worn to bed–sat fresh and folded in the carpetbag. I remembered the old mystery from my days at school. What a luxury, not having to worry about the laundry.

"Thanks," I whispered, to the castle. I took out my warmest jumper and my favourite brown trousers. My hair was still dripping from the ends. I'd begun to untie my dressing gown when there was a knock on the bedroom door.

My heartbeat spiked, for I hadn't heard footsteps approaching, and there was an echo, in the moment, of the dream.

I tied my dressing gown tightly and went to answer the door. It was Severus. I found it odd that he would intrude. Perhaps it was later in the morning than I'd realised, and I had missed breakfast. Noticing my state of undress, he kept his eyes glued to mine. I appreciated his chivalry, but it was a bit awkward.

"I wonder if you would be willing to assist me with something today," he said. "There's a certain tree bark with medicinal properties, and my stores need replenishing. It must be harvested at the end of January. It would help me to have another pair of hands."

"White oak?" I said, recognising the bark he'd described.

He nodded.

I knew I wouldn't be any real help to him without my wand. He was only doing this so that I would get out of the castle and have some fresh air. He was right about my needing it, but I resented him for it. Why did he care?

"I would be happy to," I told him. "Give me a minute to get dressed."

We walked out of the castle in the fragile rain and into the woods that surrounded the lake. I carried a bucket which Severus had brought, and followed him down the path as he headed towards a gathering of white oak trees.

I had on my warmest cloak, which grew heavy from the rain. I had to admit I felt naked without a wand. A disdainful feeling welled up in me as I followed Severus. He didn't even need me here. Not really.

As we continued down the muddy path, I felt more and more moody and immature, unable to control my emotions. Every little thing got to me–the weight of my cloak, the coldness of my hands, every time I felt like I was about to slip on the path. I didn't think I'd ever been quite so irritable before. In the back of my mind, I also kept expecting to cross paths with another grey wolf.

I was stubbornly quiet as we walked, but so was Severus. I accepted that he probably wasn't interested in conversation anyway. At least I wasn't expected to be talkative.

I felt for some reason that I deserved an explanation for his changeful behaviour towards me. But I silenced the spiteful voice. Surely it was my buried distress over Remus that was now unfairly clouding my perception of Severus.

We finally came to the group of white oaks, which stood tall and silent near the water. I followed Severus's footsteps off the path, still carrying the bucket as he selected one of the trees to take bark from.

"Hold it here," he instructed. I couldn't keep the scowl from my face as he showed me where to hold the bucket. This was pointless; he easily could have done this himself.

He caught my expression, and responded in kind. "It's a pity you still have no wand. If you did, you'd be a greater help."

"Well, I don't want one."

Normally I hated arguing over petty things, but something about this felt strangely natural.

"Have it your way. There–" he said, correcting the location of the bucket, by a couple of centimetres. I rolled my eyes, but held it in place as he drew his wand and directed it at the bark of the tree. "Diffindo," he muttered, and moved his wand precisely to cut out a piece of bark from the trunk.

I moved one of my hands from the bucket to brace against the trunk, almost wanting to arouse his contempt on purpose. But he didn't seem to take notice, very focused on what he was doing, or pretending to be.

He had cut half a circle out of the bark of the tree when I heard something in the underbrush behind us, and turned with a gasp. As I turned the hand which had been touching the trunk slipped a bit into the path of Severus's wand, and I felt searing pain as the spell sliced deep through my skin.

Distracted, I looked at my hand, which was trembling and bleeding heavily. There was a laceration above the first knuckle of my first finger, deep and pulsing. I only looked at it for a moment before shutting my eyes. It had a heartbeat. From the pain, it probably went to the bone. I had dropped the bucket on the ground, and Severus had stopped the spell.

I expected a reprimand from him, but he only seized my wrist and demanded, "Hold still." His voice was steady, if a bit annoyed.

I winced and watched as Severus slowly hovered his hand over the cut. As his fingers passed over it, the skin slowly connected again. It ached quite a bit, but once he was finished it was as though nothing had happened. The throbbing heartbeat diminished and then disappeared from my finger.

Severus released my wrist. I glanced back at the place where I'd thought I'd heard something–a wolf, I'd imagined. But there was nothing there.

Severus picked up the bucket and looked inside of it. Some of my blood had dripped into it. "Go rinse it out in the lake," he ordered, thrusting the bucket into my hands. He easily could have done away with the blood using his wand, but I figured this was a punishment I deserved.

I went and did as he said, taking some deep breaths while I was at it. I kept pressing at the tip of my finger with my thumb, but there was no difference at all, except for the blood on my hand, which I also washed off in the freezing water.

"Sorry," I said, when I came back. I meant it, too.

He didn't acknowledge my apology, not even with the slightest twitch of his mouth. "Hold the bucket with both hands," he instructed strictly, and then returned to his work.

By noontime the bucket was full of bark. We walked back to the castle in tense silence, arriving in time for lunch.

I received the ministry letter at breakfast, four days before the full moon. The sight of the well groomed owl made my gut twist. Good news rarely arrived when delivered by a ministry owl. I braced myself, but remained optimistic. It was probably in regards to the request Poppy had sent.

Neville was humouring Luna, who wanted to try to conduct a silent conversation by only looking into one another's eyes and making small facial expressions. They seemed absorbed enough, and I opened the letter and read it in their presence.

I read it once, and then read it again. Then I stood up and, unnoticed, walked out of the great hall. I walked up the stairs to the nearest secret passageway, and in the dim light read it a third time.

Mrs. Lupin,

We have been informed that you and your husband, Remus Lupin, are separated at present. In your husband's absence, in the case that you are incapable of meeting with him, you must choose between the two options listed below, with whom to fulfil your monthly requirement.

Lucius Malfoy

Bill Weasley

We have done our best to pair you with fertile partners with whom you are acquainted. For your security, neither of the potential partners listed above has been notified of the other option.

We understand that this may be a difficult transition, but as your previous special circumstance was granted as a result of your husband's condition, intercourse must take place within your three-day fertile window.

Kindly be sure to submit an examination report, as well as the name of the wizard of your choosing.

If your husband has not returned before next month's fertile window, the Marriage Law will require that you be remarried to any eligible wizard of your personal choosing, who consents to take on a second wife.

Kind regards,

The Ministry of Magic

My head spun with the information. I had read it three times and still hadn't processed it all.

I inferred that Lucius and Bill were my choices because they had both already gotten women pregnant, so were proven fertile. I didn't know what the author thought they meant by acquainted. One was my former enemy, and the other was my adoptive brother. I was mortified by the mere thought of spending a night with Bill. I would be reminded all too vividly of Fred, and besides, I was sure it would cause a tear in his healthy marriage with Fleur. It was out of the question. On the other hand, I remembered the story Pansy Parkinson had told of her first night with Lucius, and thought that I would rather die than suffer that kind of humiliation at his cold, pale hands.

As if this dilemma weren't enough, if Remus didn't come back, I would be forced to remarry. It had been a whirlwind and an uphill battle, learning to get along with Remus. And I knew that he was a bright sunny day compared to many other men. I couldn't imagine trying to do it all over again.

Was there no peace? I'd thought the war was over, but it didn't feel like it now.

All of my bottled up anger and denial from the past weeks boiled in me, and came out in a pained scream. "WHAT THE FUCK!" The sound echoed off the close walls of the passageway. My ears were ringing with rage.

For the first time I truly cursed Remus for being gone. I was only going through this madness because he wasn't here.

But then shame caught in my throat. How could he have known that something like this would happen? He was cold and alone somewhere, going through his own hardship. I knew I had every right to resent him, but I couldn't. Not deeply.

I began to crumple the letter in my hands, but forced myself to stop. I knew I would need to read it at least two more times before I truly believed it. I smoothed the parchment against my knee, trying to salvage the unsalvageable.

I received a letter from Bill at dinner that same evening. The snowy owl he'd sent was exhausted, and I fed it from my plate. I'd spent the afternoon locked away in the library, putting off sending letters of my own. When I saw who the letter was from, my hands began to shake. Luckily I was sitting alone, and no-one seemed to notice my frayed nerves.

I unfolded the letter and read Bill's fine, loopy handwriting.

Dear Wilma,

I must say I'm startled by the Ministry's poor judgement. Though, at this point, I shouldn't be. I assume that someone else on your list will be more appealing, for obvious reasons. But in the case that you are caught between Scylla and Charybdis, I would agree to see you.

I am sorry it had to be me, and I hope we will see each other soon regardless. Happy belated birthday.

With love,

Bill

I felt tears well in my eyes. His reference to The Odyssey had done it, but they were also full of confliction. I was infinitely appreciative of Bill's light approach to the difficult subject. I was certainly in a dilemma, as he'd suggested, but couldn't bear the thought of causing any kind of difficulty in Bill's marriage–and in the entire family. I couldn't imagine how terrible it would be if anyone else found out–and Bill was so honest, Fleur at least would know, and probably Molly. I cringed at the thought.

Yet I doubted that Lucius Malfoy would respond. From the way his son had denied me months ago, I figured his old prejudices still stood strong. He wouldn't want to associate with a muggle-born in any way… especially not sexually. An unpleasant shiver rippled up my spine.

At that moment a second owl arrived, a large eagle owl, just as pretentious-looking as the ministry's. It didn't stop but swooped back outdoors with a hoot of complaint at the long journey. This, of course, would be from Lucius.

It was written on firm white paper.

If you choose, arrive on the evening of the full moon at eight o'clock. Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire.

I thanked Merlin for his brevity. Obviously I was not expected to respond–and I wouldn't. I didn't want to give him that courtesy.

I caught Luna's eye down the table, and waved goodnight to her and Neville, making an expression that I hoped would keep them from suspecting anything. I then took Bill's snowy owl on my arm, and went out of the great hall and up to my room.

I paced back and forth for an hour as the sky faded to deep darkness outside the windows. It was still raining. Bill's owl waited patiently, perched on the chair by the desk.

It took me a while to stop denying that I had already made my decision. It wasn't a decision I liked, but it was written in stone in my heart. I took a slip of parchment and a quill and ink from the desk drawer, and began to write back to Bill.

Dear Bill,

Thank you for your letter, and your offer.

I will be alright, and there's no need on your part to worry.

Please give Fleur my love.

Wilma

I'd felt as though my hand was shaking, but my writing looked firm and confident. Good. I folded the letter, tied it to the owl's leg, and opened the window. It hooted appreciatively, and I watched it until it disappeared in the rain, headed back to Shell Cottage.

When it was gone, I closed the window and sat down in the wooden chair. I felt a palpable relief that the decision was finally made. But deep in my gut coiled trepidation and disgust. I watched the rain for a long time, filled with uneasiness. I had just doomed myself to a night with Lucius Malfoy.

NOTE

If you wish to revisit the story Pansy Parkinson told, it is at the beginning of chapter 10: Pansy.