Chapter Eighteen

At least Hermione understood. Aberforth, Cedrella and the rest knew, but they didn't understand like she did. They had the facts; knew that James and Lily had died on Halloween of eighty one and what that had meant for Sirius, but they hadn't been there to see it. Well, technically speaking neither had Hermione, but she'd seen the aftermath. She'd seen the traitor Peter Pettigrew, she'd seen the orphan Harry, she'd seen the broken Remus, and she'd sure as shite seen the nightmare he'd been just coming out of Azkaban. She understood because she'd seen the consequences before there had been any sort of healing, whereas those of them in their circle of trust just had a vague idea of the loss of two people who weren't even born yet. How could they properly mourn two people they hadn't had the chance to love? Hermione got a pass on that because of Harry. She had the right to mourn James and Lily because the culmination of all they were was packed neatly into that boy she'd sworn to protect in three realities now.

Yeah, by Sirius' reckoning, given everything Hermione had sacrificed for Harry, she had the right to call herself James and Lily's best fucking friends.

Since coming to fifty four and getting all sorted with the Blacks, he'd thrown a Halloween bash for the family. The first year, he'd been uncertain of the idea. In fact, it hadn't been his idea at all. It had been Cedrella's. They'd had that big fancy party at the Manor for Hermione's birthday and after that came Halloween, and a few weeks prior Cedrella had showed up at Grimmauld and told him under no uncertain terms they should have a Halloween party, if for no other reason than to cement to the family that big gatherings at the Manor were going to be the norm going forward. He'd seen the value in what she was saying, and at the time he was still so worried Cedrella was going to turn around and fuck everything up for them, given they'd only just learned she knew who they really were, that he'd just smiled and nodded.

The damn Witch had gotten up his arse about his poor attitude at the actual party, however. "What in the hell is your problem, Uncle Sirius?" she'd hissed at him when she'd found him lurking in the darkest corner he could find. "You're supposed to be out there being social."

"Woman," he'd grumbled. "This is the absolute last day of the year I want to be bloody social."

"What have you got against Halloween?" Cedrella had wanted to know.

Admittedly, he was already quite drunk by the time she'd found him that night, so his ability to censor was shot to hell. "Oh, I dunno. Maybe that it's the anniversary of my best friend's death? Or that it marks the night I got tossed in Azkaban per being framed for my best friend's death, where I remained for the next twelve years? Maybe it's because it's also the night that I had to find out that my other best friend had betrayed us to Voldemort, framing me for my best friend's death? Fuck, Cedrella, I hate Halloween."

Sirius chuckled as he thought back on the stunned look on her face after his rant, and at the aftermath of it. Cedrella recovered quickly, throwing him off kilter by pulling him into a fierce hug, then the moment she pulled away she slapped him across the face, hard. "Pull yourself together, Sirius Black!" she'd snapped. "Make some new memories, you dolt."

She didn't say she was sorry he'd gone through any of it. That wasn't the Slytherin way. The sympathy was implied in the hug, and the slap implied encouragement to move forward. He may not have been a Slytherin, but he'd sussed out the language ages ago. By the following Halloween, Cedrella hadn't needed to ask him to host another party. He'd just gone ahead and planned for it, because while he still hated the day and probably always would, she wasn't wrong in saying he needed to make new memories. Maybe, one day, he could hate it less.

"How are you doing?" his wife asked softly, handing him a glass of Firewhisky on her approach, sipping at hers with obvious dedication. He'd been watching her all night. This was at least her fifth. He was kind of surprised she wasn't drunk yet.

"Same as usual," he shrugged. "You?"

Hermione sighed. "A lot of memories."

He frowned. "What are you remembering? I mean I know why the fuck I hate Halloween, but the way you're going to town on the Firewhiskey makes me think you hate this day near as much as I do."

His wife let out a ragged breath. "My best friend didn't die on Halloween. My best friend nearly died every Halloween after he came of age. One year, he almost managed it. He couldn't deal with the bullshite of how so many people celebrated the day - it became an official holiday, you know. They called it Potter's Day. There would be Potter's Day rallies in the afternoon and then Halloween events in the evening. The Ministry decided there was no reason they couldn't have both, and felt the event where James and Lily died and Harry survived, which brought more than a decade of peace, ought to be noted. Anyway, it was the contrast that bothered him. How could they all celebrate the day he'd been orphaned? How could they celebrate his grief? Harry nearly drank himself to death, every Halloween, trying to sort that out in his head. He seemed to think that if he got drunk enough he'd either figure it out or just not care."

"It takes a damn lot for a Wizard to drink himself to death," Sirius said mutely. "How on earth…"

She let out a ragged breath. "It was less that he drank so much that his body gave up, and more that he drank so much he got stupid enough to do the thing even the biggest idiot knows better than to do while intoxicated."

"He apparated?" he asked, horrified.

"Yup," she said, smacking her lip with the end of the word, looking annoyed. "I was there, at the bar with him, as was custom after a while. After the first few years I stopped trying to get him to quit and just opted to keep him company in the hope of keeping him safe and faithful to Ginny. He's a bit wretched at saying no when plastered. Anyway, he was completely shite faced, going on and on about what might have beens, and then he gets up and storms out of the bar. I followed, of course, and got out there just in time to see his stupid arse apparate. I followed immediately, terrified he'd already be dead when I got there."

"How'd you even know where to go?" Sirius asked, engrossed in the story, even if he was deeply horrified by the spiral his Godson had gone down.

Hermione eyed him critically, and threw back the remainder of her drink before absently summoning Dobby and asking him to get her another. As soon as she had a fresh glass in her hand, she continued. "I know my brother," she said simply. "In that sort of mood, the only place he'd have gone was Godric's Hollow. I didn't have to look when I got there. I just needed to follow the sound of him screaming."

"How bad?" he asked quietly.

"Spiral splinch on the right leg," she replied. "His left arm was completely separated from his body. I made his stupid arse pay the fine for the illegal portkey I conjured to get him to St. Mungo's before he bled out or went into shock and just died from that."

"Long term effects?" Sirius wanted to know.

"Most of the spiral was just through the skin layers," she muttered. "They were able to regrow that without any problem. One area was into the muscle a bit which took three months of potions to grow back, and another three months of physical therapy before he was able to walk very well. He still has a bit of a limp if the weather is bad, but it doesn't hinder him normally. The arm, thankfully, they were able to reattach. Not unlike the leg, it troubles him a bit when the weather is poor because of the muscle damage. They ended up vanishing the bone and regrowing that from start to finish once the muscle was reattached, although they weren't willing to risk the Skele-Gro along with the blood replenishers he needed to be on at the time while his skin and muscles regrew. Mostly, he's fine, but it could easily have gone the other way. Had I not known where to find him, or not seen him apparate and wasted time looking around thinking he'd ducked back into the pub or something… he'd be dead. He'd have bled out long before anyone found him."

"Merlin," Sirius muttered. "There I was thinking your worst Halloween memory was that bloody troll you three went up against your first year."

"Hardly," she scoffed, "and before the end I doubt my experience with Harry will be the worst of it either. We'll have to watch it all over."

"James and Lily," he asked, frowning. "You're still doing calculations, Hermione. Don't jump to conc…"

"There are no more calculations to do, Sirius," she said with a heavy sigh. "If they survive, Voldemort wins. Every variable I've looked at, and I've looked at hundreds at this point, says the same thing. I'm sorry."

"Shite," he said, leaning against the wall.

"I'm not giving up," Hermione urged, "however, I won't lie to you, love. It doesn't look good. Typically if there's some change possible, a variable can be found and there is a margin of error in the calculations - a drift - and you just have to sort out how to expand the drift so you can manipulate it to your preferred outcome. In the case of James and Lily, there's no margin at all, no matter how I look at things. It may just be a crux event."

Sirius slammed his back against the wall in frustration. "Did you have to tell me that today of all bloody days, Hermione? Really? Today sucked enough as it was!"

His wife scoffed. "Would you rather I have ruined a second day of the year for you? At least this way you don't have to remember two different days for the same grief."

It wasn't stupid, and he knew that, but right now he was angry, so he just glared at her. "Fuck off," he grumbled.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but did as he asked, strolling back into the crowd of their family. He was left alone for nearly half an hour, and then his sister strolled up to him, looking oddly lacking in confidence. "Belvina?" he asked. "Are you alright?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing," she teased. "You look like you're ready to hex someone."

"Oh, sorry, argument with the wife," he excused.

"That and for some reason you don't like Halloween anymore," she remarked. "Don't think I hadn't noticed. Ever since you came back from, well, you know…"

"Few years of torture?" he filled in.

Belvina crossed her arms. "Yes, that mess. I take it Halloween brings up some sort of poor memories?"

"Friend of mine, who I met during that mess, died on Halloween," he said, figuring that was as close to the truth as he was going to get, and the reality of the matter was there were plenty of people as perceptive as Belvina in the family, and she couldn't be the only one who'd noticed he wasn't particularly cheerful on Halloween. This, at least, gave him a sound excuse.

His sister nodded, thankfully not asking questions. "Well," she said after a pause. "I have something to tell you that might cheer you up."

"Oh?" Sirius asked, amused even if he didn't think she had a shot in hell at managing it.

She stood up straighter. "I am, shockingly, pregnant."

His jaw fell open in surprise. "But… Bel, honey, you're, well…"

"Not young?" she laughed. "No kidding!"

"You weren't trying?" he asked, flabbergasted.

"No. I'd stopped taking the Potion ages ago though," she shrugged. "Herbert and I rarely have sex these days and my menstruation has been erratic for years. I figured I was past being able to get pregnant."

"I thought you had decided not to have children, though," Sirius said pointedly. They all knew her plants were her babies, after all. Otherwise, she was the doting aunt and she was happy with that.

"That was what we decided," Belvina nodded, "although honestly Sirius, now that I am pregnant, I'm not so sure any longer what I ever had against the idea. If this pregnancy goes well, I do think I'll try for one more. Herbert's open to it, and I'd like this one to have a sibling. The Healers say that I'm healthy enough, although admit at my age getting pregnant could be difficult. I may end up taking a fertility potion to increase the odds."

He couldn't help it. He was grinning like a loon. She had managed to cheer his stupid arse up. The reality of the matter was that he hadn't been here yet to be around when his various nephews and nieces were born. He hadn't been around for a chunk of his great nieces and nephews being born, either. At this point it was down to the great greats. This baby that Belvina was carrying would be the first actual niece or nephew that he'd be there for from the beginning, and Sirius couldn't even say that he'd had that in Alpha. Regulus hadn't become a father before he'd died. The closest Sirius could say he came was when Harry had been born. James had been like a brother to him, so in turn Harry had been like a nephew.

That's what this felt like, he mused. This felt like the day he'd learned Lily was pregnant with Harry. He leaned over and pulled his sister into a hug. "I can't wait to meet this baby, Belvina. Congratulations!"

She held him tightly. "Thanks, big brother."

Hell, maybe Cedrella had been right. Maybe he could make good memories on Halloween.

She was luckier than most, Minerva mused. How often did women know exactly when they were going to give birth? On the morning of November the sixth, she could already feel contractions beginning, and was quite certain that before the day was through, she'd have her son in her arms. What time today was in question, but really, there should be some mystery involved. Knowing everything about her son before he even took his first breath was a bit disconcerting.

The Scottish woman had only just gotten out of bed when she heard a knock on her door, and smiled a little, knowing full well who it was. After all, it wasn't as though she was the only person who knew her child was to be born today, and there was one specific person among that group who she'd asked to be here first thing, wanting support from the onset of labor and knowing full well it wasn't going to be her mother. She made her way to the door, rubbing her back, and opened it. "Good morning, Helen," she greeted.

"Good morning, Minerva," the Squib replied, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. "How are you feeling?"

"Alright so far, but as I understand things contractions tend to get more painful as they go on," she replied.

Helen smiled. "So I hear. Did you ever make a decision about if you're going to use pain potions or go natural?"

"Well," Minerva sighed, sitting down on her sofa and motioning for Helen to join her, "after our last chat I decided you were probably right, so yes, I'll be using pain potions like a sensible woman."

"How sour did that feel coming out of your mouth?" her friend teased.

"Very," she reported. "So shut it."

"Yes well, admittedly the insight came from experience," Helen sighed. "My mother died when I was very young, so there was never really any pressure to live up to her, but God knows there's been pressure to live up to my father and then some. I mean honestly, can you imagine? I'm meant to carry on the legacy of Gregory bloody Magnus, renowned magical creatures expert in the Magical community and in the Abnormal one. Impressing the Abnormal community is one thing, if they don't know about magic on a whole, but it's a struggle to impress you lot. What's a Squib daughter next to her Wizard father, after all?"

"Like what's a woman giving birth with pain potion next to one who's given birth three times without it?" Minerva inquired, knowing where the comparison was.

"Just so. Ultimately, each of us is responsible for our own choices, and those choices need to be about us and what's good for us, not about our parents and what was right for them at the time," the Sanctuary Head said firmly.

The pair continued to chat, Helen coaching Minerva through the increasing contractions as they began to grow in intensity. Once the Scottish woman began magically breaking things in her quarters, Helen dictated it was time to move to the Hospital Wing, and Minerva begrudgingly agreed to walk down, even if she knew it would mean Poppy poking and prodding her. "Might as well go ahead and call the bloody Blacks too."

Helen frowned. "You needn't have all of them here at once. This is your choice, Minerva. If you'd prefer just Orion for the moment, or just Hermione, or just Sirius to start with, that's more than alright."

Minerva looked at her gratefully, knowing Helen was being a good friend and appreciating her thoughtfulness, but she also knew that what she wanted seemed to be changing every other minute, and Poppy would likely flay her alive if people kept Flooing in and out. "Who I want seems to vary minute to minute, Helen. Go ahead and tell them all to come, although the men don't get to be in the room except briefly. I told Orion he could be here at Hogwarts but not in my bloody face, so he'll expect it, and honestly, I'll be shocked if Sirius wants to be in the room."

The Squib wrinkled her nose. "No, I can't imagine he will. That would be very strange for him, and besides, he can be a support for Orion."

"I still have mixed feelings about Hermione being here," Minerva admitted.

Helen paused as they arrived at the door to the Hospital Wing. "Your relationship with Hermione was complicated before you two went to bed together. It was complicated before you learned you were meant to be Sirius' mother. If she could make it work with you when she could see all the complications from her end, I imagine you can make it work with her now that you can see complications from your end. Somehow I think your relationship with her was never going to be a simple one."

"Simple, no," she agreed, sighing a little. "I just wish I knew how to get from the Minerva she sometimes treats as a peer and equal she has an affection for and sometimes treats as a subordinate she needs to smack down, to the Minerva she genuinely respects. On the rare occasion she talks about my counterparts, it's very clear she respected them both deeply, but I don't feel she looks at me in the same way. Respect is two way, Helen. How can she expect me to respect her when she doesn't respect me?"

Helen reached up and touched Minerva's cheek. "Oh darling. She does respect you. You are simply young and have yet to learn that there are different sorts of respect, and some sorts of respect are the kind you must grow into. She can't respect you as she respected Beta or Alpha Minerva yet simply because you are too young. Those were women she could go to for advice - the advice of an old woman, who has lived through many years and suffered and lost and loved and lived and experienced more than she has. It's, in some ways, the respect you give Hermione, not because she's your elder, but because her experience exceeds yours. It's why the Blacks, her children and nieces and nephews, look up to her even though she's so much younger. She generates the respect of experience. Those of us who have that sort of respect do not wish it on others. The price is quite high."

Minerva nodded, properly chastised. She knew Helen was her elder by a great deal, knew she projected the same sort of respect that Hermione did, and appreciated that Helen was such a good support to her these days. Helen was a surrogate aunt of sorts, she supposed, and would be exactly that for her son in the years to come. When it came down to choosing a Godparent for her child, Minerva knew from the off that she had to choose from someone within the circle of trust. When she'd been considering, Constance hadn't yet been inducted, so she'd not even been a thought, although even considering now Minerva wouldn't change her choice. She'd wanted someone completely removed from the Blacks, and via Hermione, Constance Dagworth was tied in to the Blacks, as were Melok, Cedrella, and Hermione. That left Aberforth, James, and Helen for consideration. As she thought about it, she decided that a good Godparent ought to be someone who could give her child something she could not, and in this case, she felt like it needed to be someone who could provide her son an escape from the Wizarding world. Had the issue of the Blacks not been present, she'd have considered Hermione or Constance as they both had Muggle roots, but barring them she was really only left with James or Helen, and between the pair, she was far closer to Helen.

As she walked into the Hospital Wing and Poppy saw her and began smiling brightly at the prospect of her labor having begun - it wasn't as though Poppy hadn't gotten to be surprised - Minerva placed her hand over her contracting abdomen and smiled a little as Helen walked toward the Floo and Poppy guided her toward a bed. "Ready to meet your Godmother, little one?" she asked softly as she lay down. "I hope you like magical creatures."

Helen smirked at a confused looking Hermione as she stepped through the Floo. "Helen," she greeted. "Not that I'm not pleased to see you, but why are you here?"

"Oh, you think you're the only one who can order me about?" she taunted. "Shanghai my devotion?"

Sirius, bless him, got to the point before Hermione did. "She made you Godmother, didn't she?"

"Indeed," Helen reported.

"That sneaky Witch," Hermione grumbled. "I asked her about it, and she said I'd find out when I found out, and that I shouldn't always know everything about everything."

"It makes sense, hun," Sirius said gently. "Of all Minerva's friends, Helen's one of the few who isn't deeply entrenched in the Wizarding world. The idea of a good Godparent is to give the child something you don't feel you can provide. Obviously Minerva and Orion can provide the child with connection to the Wizarding world, but given the minute Minerva's parents find out about the baby they'll likely disown her, she probably wanted to give him some sort of tie to the Muggle world."

"Hope the kid likes creatures," Orion shrugged, having met her enough times to know what she did for a living.

"I do have other areas of interest, Orion," Helen remarked. "If your son doesn't have any interest in creatures then I'm sure the time I spend with him can be in the exploration of other things. He needn't have a passion for my area of expertise, although God help the child if he loathes Transfiguration."

"Not a chance of that happening," the father-to-be scoffed. "Min and I both love it. It's in his blood."

"As is becoming an Animagus," Helen pointed out, "which would suggest some affection for creatures."

"He'll probably turn into a cat just like his mother," Orion mused.

"Or a dog, just to be ornery," Sirius countered. "You never know."

Hermione laughed, and Helen just smiled knowingly. "Shall we go see Minerva? I've been instructed to tell you that the gentlemen may say hello and then wait outside. You could probably take a walk, if you like. We could easily call when the time is close. Hermione, you're allowed to remain if you wish."

Orion nodded in understanding, and Sirius took a deep breath. "Right," the older of the men said. "On with it, then."

Helen shook her head as Sirius strode forward with purpose, Orion hot on his heels. Hermione remained behind with her, the two of them walking more slowly toward Minerva. "How is she doing?" the Mage inquired.

"Well enough, for a woman in labor," Helen replied. "I think there are others she's keen to have here but she's too afraid of rejection to ask."

"Like who?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Her brothers, for one," the Sanctuary Head reported. "She fears Malcolm will reject her and side with their parents' viewpoint on the subject, and won't ask Robert and put him in position to have to pick sides. I know she means to call Roland Wood after the baby is born and have him come by, but she didn't feel he needed to be here during."

"Who else?"

"Elise Black," Helen confided. "The pair have been good friends since they were girls. Elise and Genia shared a dorm, in fact, and Minerva got to know them both at the same time. However, things with Elise have been stilted of late, as Elise married into your family and while Sirius has been clear he harbors no ill will toward Minerva in regard to her affair with Orion, Elise grew up with conservative family values and the infidelity bothers her. It's put a strain on their friendship. I personally feel like if Minerva reached out to Elise and explained to her how limited her support pool was right now that the girl would come through for her friend, but Minerva…"

"Fears rejection," Hermione concluded. "Got it. After the birth, and I leave, I'll swing by Marius and Elise's and speak with her, test the waters. If she seems amenable, I'll send her over, and at least Minerva can have her support in the aftermath. Given Elise is a Black, I feel that's in my purview, but in regard to her brothers…"

Helen shook her head. "No, she wouldn't thank you at all for interfering there. I agree."

"I can try to encourage her to reach out to them," the other woman offered, "in the next few days. That's likely the best I can do."

"Two pounds of pressure is better than one," Helen agreed. "God knows I've been pushing on the subject."

By now, the men were turning back toward them, signaling Helen and Hermione to make their approach. "We'll be on the grounds," Sirius said, putting his hand on Orion's shoulder. "Send us a Patronus when it gets close to time."

Hermione nodded in agreement, and then they were off, and Helen followed Hermione over to where Minerva was, surprised to find the Scottish woman in tears. "Whatever is the matter, darling? Helen asked.

"Sirius!" Minerva sniffled. "He said… he said he loved me."

Helen groaned, and Hermione just laughed. "Oh, he picked a devil of a time to go soft on you, didn't he?" the Mage chuckled. "Oh Min, you poor dear."

"Orion is likely boggled right now," Helen sighed.

Having spent all morning with Minerva, Helen opted to step back and allow Hermione some time with Minerva now, only contributing to conversation if she was drawn in purposely, and in the meantime reflecting on her relationship with the laboring Witch. It was a developing friendship that had surprised her in its coming.

Honestly, it was rare for her to befriend someone so much younger. In Hermione's case, it made a certain sense because of the Mage's significant life experience which made her seem a great deal older than she actually was. She'd seen as much war as Helen, and as much grief. She'd lost friends and loved ones, and seen both the best she could be and the worst. They were, in that way, equals.

In Minerva's case, it was less an issue of equality and more one of commonality. The Transfiguration Professor had surprised her with a keen passion for creatures, and deep interest in learning more about the Sanctuary, even going so far as taking some of her free time during her maternity leave and spending it with her in Old City, thanks to Dobby transporting her. Like Helen, Minerva knew what it was to love someone who you really shouldn't love, and while John Druitt and Orion Black were entirely different people and the situations were vastly different, the end result had ultimately been the same; both she and Minerva had been morally obligated to walk away from somebody they deeply loved, because of a pregnancy. Helen had the advantage of being presented with the choice to put her child in stasis whereas the timeline required that Minerva continue with her pregnancy, but at the end of the day the similarity was there, and Minerva McGonagall was one of the few who even knew she'd ever been pregnant.

One of two, actually. James Watson, and now Minerva McGonagall. Hell, she hadn't even told her bloody sister what happened.

Speaking of her sister, Helen mused it was probably wise for her to make herself scarce when Mister Wood called on Minerva. Helen and her sister didn't resemble one another much anymore, given she'd aged whereas Helen had not, but Roland did know her, and she wasn't quite prepared for Minerva to realize she still had living family within the Wizarding world. It was less an issue of trust in Minerva and more one of trust in Hermione. While perhaps not ideal if Hermione learned of her pregnancy, it wouldn't be the end of the world. However, if Hermione learned about her sister, she may very well attempt to draw her into the Resistance and Helen was not prepared to risk that.

Helen Magnus was willing to gamble a great deal, but not that. Not Ashley.

Within another few hours, Minerva's labor progressed to the point where Poppy was telling her it was nearly time to begin pushing. Hermione shot off a Patronus to the men, and then both she and Helen turned their attention back to Minerva. "Why a deerhound?" Minerva asked, breathing heavily. "I've been wondering about that."

Hermione pursed her lips. "Really? Is now the time to inquire about my Patronus?"

Minerva grinned a little. "I'm giving birth. Carte blanche."

Helen, who'd already heard the tale, elbowed Hermione. "Oh, just tell her. It's fine."

"It's annoying, Helen," Hermione grumped, "and you know she'll never let me live it down."

"Come on," Minerva whined, bracing as another contraction hit. "I'm going to have to start pushing any minute. Give me something to think about other than that fact."

"Ugh!" the Mage huffed, glancing at Poppy who was on the other side of the room getting some potions ready just in case they needed them. "Fine. Your Beta counterpart's Animagus was a deerhound. My Patronus was originally an Otter, but it shifted after I… honestly, I'm not sure when. After I met her. I didn't have a call to use my Patronus much in Beta, but by the time I cast it here for the first time, it had changed. I'm pretty sure it happened after we left Beta because I used it during the last battle there and Sirius would have seen it then, and he didn't say anything about it being different."

The Scottish woman looked at her like a deer caught in the headlights. "Wow. But…"

Hermione leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to Minerva's lips. "You mean a great deal to me, Minerva McGonagall. In any reality."

Minerva suddenly looked more energized, and Helen raised an eyebrow at Hermione in question. It was Minerva who answered the unasked question, however. "I somehow doubt Hermione opted to kiss me as a mid labor come on, Helen. It was a harmonic mingling, to give me an energy boost. Thanks, by the way. That helped immeasurably."

The Mage shrugged. "You're welcome."

"Fascinating," Helen admitted.

"You would say that," the Scottish Witch chuckled. "Oh, I'm feeling pressure. Poppy?"

"Pressure is good," Poppy said, standing beside them. She peeked between Minerva's legs. "Your body is doing half the job for you. You're already beginning to crown. Next contraction, I want you to bear down."

Minerva nodded, and not a few seconds later, Helen could see the rippling to signal a contraction, and her friend bore down. Poppy was encouraging, and as Helen held Minerva's hand, Hermione remained at her friend's head, stroking her cheek and whispering God knew what. Whatever it was, it kept Minerva going, as contraction after contraction hit for the next twenty minutes, Minerva continued pushing like a champ, and then, suddenly, there was a cry.

Poppy flicked her wand around a bit and then gently placed the newborn naked on his mother's breast, pulling aside the sheet that covered her so they could be skin to skin before replacing it over the pair of them. "Congratulations, Minerva. It's a boy."

"Sirius," Minerva muttered weakly. "Sirius Orion Black the third."

The Healer raised an eyebrow in question. "Really?" she had the audacity to ask.

The Scottish Witch chuckled. "Who, for simplicity's sake, we'll be calling Trian."

"Better," Poppy concluded. "Bloody Blacks and their bloody traditions."

Helen couldn't agree more. Really, why on earth would you saddle a child with a name a family member had before them? That said, it was Minerva's child, and she wasn't one to judge. When she had a child of her own one day, she'd give them a name of their own, not connected to any relatives, living or dead. That was just good sense.

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