"I love you. I want to be with you. I'm here to stay."
Tonks held Remus's face the following morning, repeating the words that had become a mantra in the last several days. Every morning and night, she found a way to touch him, forcing him to look her in the eye, and said the same three sentences. Until last night, Remus hadn't been able to believe her.
Today was different.
"I love you too, Dora," Remus murmured in return, the words sounding odd on his lips after so many weeks of disuse.
Her face lit up with a huge smile, one he'd almost forgotten he could inspire out of her. He couldn't help the way his mouth moved of its own accord, matching her giddy grin.
If only he was well enough to show her how much he loved her.
Tonks cleared her throat, hearing the trill of her wand's alarm. "Kingsley will be here in a little while, if that's all right?"
Remus nodded, disappointed she had to go. "It will be nice to see him."
"Will you need help getting to the other room?"
Remus glanced at the cane resting on his bedside table. Though he had moved on from the zimmer frame and could manage to walk across a room with a cane, he felt he could be more independent with his wand, but it was still off-limits, per Poppy's orders.
"Please," he conceded, knowing how it pleased Tonks to be able to help him, though he wanted to gain his strength as soon as he could. She smiled at him and helped him get out of bed and dress, and then guided him to the mistress's suite, which was becoming more and more like the Gryffindor common room by the day.
"Oh look!" Tonks helped Remus into an armchair and dashed off to the big window. "Everyone's home!"
Remus craned his neck and took in the view on the windowsill. Two blackbirds and three squirrels were engaged in a staring contest. The blackbirds had a nest on one side of the windowsill and the squirrels had burrowed into the wall on the other side, creating their own nest for their young. Remus could see tiny bird beaks, but no young squirrels.
"Do you think the Muggles can hear or see them?" Tonks asked, turning around to face him. "This place is under so many enchantments. D'you think the birds and squirrels just disappear into thin air?"
"I'm not sure. Muggles can probably hear them."
Tonks placed her nose against the glass. She'd enchanted the window so that no one could see in, giving the animals a sense of privacy, but those inside the room could have up-close views of the urban wildlife. Ginny and Hermione, among the many poor souls tasked with keeping Remus company while he healed, were enchanted with the animals as well. Hermione had cleverly engineered a way to provide bird seed and corn from a narrow opening at the top of the window. Tonks shoved small handfuls of nuts and seeds out the opening, creating a frenzy for the birds and squirrels on the sill.
Her wand trilled and she groaned. "I've got to go. Kings should be here soon—you'll be okay?"
Remus held up a book he'd stowed into his robe pocket. In the last week of healing he'd finally reached the point of being afforded a limited amount of alone time, but without his wand or much mobility, it meant he was limited to reading the books brought up for him, which were largely Austen and Dickens novels.
"I'll get more for you," she offered. "You read fast." She sauntered back to him and placed a kiss on his forehead. She looked like she wanted to say more, but there was a knock on the door. Remus turned his head and saw Kingsley there with a stack of books under one arm and a basket in the other.
"Way ahead of you, Tonks," Kingsley said, in his deep, calming voice. "Sirius mentioned you were almost out of books, Lupin. I brought more."
Remus nodded his thanks and glanced at the spines. The works of the Brontë sisters, George Orwell, and Virginia Woolf would add considerably to his repertoire. Kingsley and Tonks exchanged brief updates on work and Remus's health, and then one Auror was switched out for the other.
Kingsley then pulled out the contents of the basket, explaining, "Andromeda put this together for you. I stopped in Devon on my way here."
While Remus ate, Kingsley took his turn at the window, observing the blackbirds hopping around each other. The view, though picturesque, was tinged with bittersweetness. Remus wondered if Tonks had become attached to the wildlife after she'd terminated the pregnancy. She didn't want to discuss the issue, no matter how gently he tried to broach the subject. She assured him she was fine and well, but her refusal to discuss the pregnancy led him to believe it had gone poorly and she'd suffered.
Maybe, he thought grimly, looking up at the baby birds, she truly had wanted a child and regretted termination. It was for the best, avoiding the possibility of a child who might destroy her from the inside out, but perhaps it triggered a desire in Tonks for a child that Remus could never give her. If they were going to stay together (and Remus had never wanted anything so terribly, not even the chance to go to school), the least he could do was find a way to give her what she wanted.
There were other ways of having children, he supposed, looking back at his spot in the Dickens novel. He'd never given thought to adoption—no person, magical or Muggle, could find him suitable for parenting—but as he'd reached the end of Oliver Twist, he wondered if this would be enough for Tonks. Though Remus couldn't, in good conscience, father his own child, he pictured himself convincing Tonks to adopt an orphaned Muggleborn, should one exist.
The picture wasn't as satisfying as the one he'd formed the day Tonks left him. That figment of his imagination haunted him regularly. Though it was never clear if he had a son or daughter, the baby he envisioned in Tonks's arms was theirs and theirs alone. Surely Tonks would want a child related to her—but Remus could try persuading her otherwise.
"Kingsley," said Remus, "can I ask you something, and ask you not repeat it to Tonks?"
Though Kingsley back was facing Remus, he could see the Auror's shoulders stiffen.
"I may not be able to answer, but go on."
"How common is adoption in our world?"
Kingsley whipped around, his brow up in a quizzical manner. "Why do you ask?"
"I'm beginning to think Tonks is regretting the termination of our, er, creation . . . and I want her to be happy. If she wants a child, is there another way?"
"Magical adoption reached its peak in the years after the Statute of Secrecy was implemented," Kingsley replied, sitting down to join Remus for tea. "Though it was more commonly known as kidnapping. Witches and wizards who spotted young Muggleborns would take them from their families, modify their memories, and raise them as their own."
"That's despicable," Remus said, horrified.
"Which is why it doesn't happen anymore. Muggleborn orphans are rare, and most adopted Muggleborns turn out to be half-bloods, abandoned by one pureblood parent and a Muggleborn they're trying to hide." Kingsley dipped a biscuit into his tea and frowned. "Our world isn't set up for adoption."
Remus put his chin in his hand and rested his elbow on the thick arm of his chair. "Then what do wizards do if they want children and can't have them?"
"Sometimes they'll ask a friend or two for help," Kingsley replied, "to give their services or goods, if you catch my drift . . . many a 'mistress' has served more than one purpose."
A foreboding thought crossed Remus's mind: could they ask for another man's help? Was there any man who would be willing to give Tonks what was necessary so she could have her own baby?
If it was what Tonks wanted, Remus would offer to find someone, despite his misgivings with the idea. He could put her happiness before his own. She'd been putting him first for too long. He'd find someone that very day if he had to, and give Tonks the option to go ahead with whatever she needed to do.
Perhaps Kingsley could . . . ?
Before Remus could verbalize the half-baked idea, there was a knock on the doorframe. Molly, Bill, and Fleur had arrived.
"Hey Lupin," Bill greeted, with Fleur glued to his side. "I hope you don't mind more company."
"Not at all," Remus replied, his mind still occupied by his previous thoughts. Bill and Fleur sat down across from him, holding hands, giving Remus another idea. There were several Weasley boys—maybe Charlie would be available?
"How 'ave you been, Remus?" asked Fleur, as Molly began coddling him with a warm blanket and shoving miniature mince pies in his face.
"Fine," Remus said, his mouth half-filled with flaky pastry. Bill engaged Kingsley in conversation and Fleur chattered on, seemingly in competition with Molly for Remus's attention.
He gave up and let the women cosset him. When he had the chance, he'd make a list of possible candidates and write them letters, asking each for the favor of a lifetime.
…
It was well after sunset when Remus was finally alone. He'd had visitors nearly all day; after Kingsley, Molly, Bill and Fleur left, Hestia and Emmeline came around. They stayed for a few hours to play a Muggle word game with him (he lost spectacularly), and then Ginny, Luna, and Hermione came by with sweets and wildflowers. Tonks came home to have dinner, and now that she was in the shower, Remus was able to follow up on the tasks that had occupied him since morning.
He began with a short list of wizards: unfortunately, only Charlie Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebolt were listed as possible options. Remus moved onto the next task. He unearthed the dusty cradle from the side room in the mistress's suite and found rags with which he could clean it. Without a wand, it had to be done by hand, but it would be the right decision, he thought, when he told Tonks of his openness to adopt or find another man who could help them.
The cradle was shiny and clean by the time Remus was done with it. He heard the shower stop, so he scraped it across the floor to the bedroom, leaving it to sway slowly from side to side. He could almost picture it filled with a baby, perhaps with flaming red, Weasley hair and Tonks's dark, enchanting eyes. He'd do his best to love the child as his own.
"Remus, are you hungry or thirsty—"
Tonks gasped upon entering the bedroom. Her eyes fell on the swaying cradle and she put a trembling hand up to her mouth, the color leaving her hair and face like it had the night before.
Remus had made a critical mistake.
"I'm sorry," he said hurriedly. "I thought you might've regretted terminating and I wanted to tell you that if you still want a baby, we can adopt or . . . or . . ."
Tears sprung from her wide, beautiful eyes. Remus scrambled to get to his feet, to beg for forgiveness for what he'd done. How could he be so stupid, after all that they'd gone through?
Tonks turned on her heels and rushed into the bathroom. Remus was halfway off the bed and sunk back down, ashamed of himself. He'd presumed too much; what if she didn't want him anymore? What if she'd begun to move past the pregnancy and he'd made everything worse?
Remus couldn't help the way he began rocking back and forth on the bed. It was like the moments before moonrise, his body shaking, his soul reeling from the upcoming change—
Tonks came back out of the bathroom with tear-stained cheeks and her wet hair matted to her face.
"I need to tell you something."
"Is it," Remus said, gulping hard, "the thing you've been keeping from—"
"Yes," Tonks said tearily, standing and wringing her hands. "I know you said you'd go for it, no matter what it was, but this is big. Really big. I can't take it anymore, not telling you."
Remus forced his body to stop rocking. He had to be strong.
"I . . . I never t-terminated. I'm still pregnant."
The instinct to flee reared its ugly head at once. Everything inside Remus told him to go, to scrape himself off the bed and leave.
An equally powerful, logic-defying urge rose up within him. This was what would make or break his future: he could swallow every fear, every misgiving he'd held, and accept what the universe had deigned to give him.
Though his lungs felt like they couldn't get enough air and his hearing went fuzzy, Remus steeled himself and got to his feet. The cane in his right hand cracked under his firm grip, but he wasn't going to give up. It was time to be the man Tonks deserved.
He hobbled to Tonks and opened an arm to her, letting her fall against him. She sobbed quietly into his jumper, apologizing profusely for being unable to terminate, for disappointing him, for wanting something she knew he couldn't agree to.
"Nymphadora," Remus rasped, "don't apologize . . . please. Is this . . . do you want this?"
Tonks blinked weepily up at him, her long lashes framed with fat tears. She could only nod.
"Then we're having a baby," he said, his voice straining. "If this is what you want—"
"Is it what you want?" she cried, pulling away. "I don't want you to change your mind, to leave me and our baby because you can't handle it anymore! This isn't for a year or two. This is for the rest of your life!"
Remus peeked at the now-still cradle and imagined a baby within that had his own sandy brown hair, Tonks's cheekbones, and the dimples in his cheeks she so loved. He envisioned a little one toddling up to him, taking their first steps into his arms. He saw himself, grayer, older, and smiling, but on Platform 9 , with his son or daughter ready to take the Hogwarts Express for the first time.
"Yes," he gasped, surprising himself with how viscerally he wanted that future. "Tonks, I want this. I want to be a father."
"You do?" Tonks wiped the tears from her face and stared disbelievingly at him. "You told me to get rid of it, to take care of it—"
"It hurt to say that . . . I regret everything I said and did that night. I can't believe I almost threw you and our baby away. I want you both. Give me a chance to make it up to you . . . to both of you."
Tonks bit the inside of her cheek and gazed at the cradle. "You would've rather adopted."
"I would've asked another man to help us, if it came to it," he confessed. "I don't want you or our baby to suffer if they're a werewolf. I'd be lying to you if I said I would've preferred to adopt or raise another man's child to avoid that possibility. I'm going to worry about our baby's health because of who I am, but I don't want to give up what we have. If this is our chance to have our own child, let me take it with you."
He felt his knees grow weak. He grunted, leaning hard on his cane, but then felt Tonks's hands on his, helping him back to the bed.
Tonks sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve. "Would you have tried to leave earlier if you'd known I was pregnant?"
"I don't know. Probably," Remus admitted quietly.
"Do you think you'd try to end your life again?" Her voice had dropped to a whisper. "Please be honest with me."
"I don't think so . . . that night, those days . . . it seemed hopeless. I didn't want to die, not exactly. I didn't want to live anymore, not the way I was living. I didn't see a future where I could be happy or even . . . fine. If you and our baby are my future—"
"That's a lot to put on us, Remus. I'm happy, so happy you're alive, but what if something happens to me? How will I know you'll be okay for our child?"
Remus rubbed the back of his neck and exhaled forcefully. "I don't know what you want me to promise. I am going to try to be there for you, for our child, and hope I'm enough. I want to be better."
"This is what we'll do," she said, interlacing her fingers with his, "keep trying to get healthier and stronger. Tell me when you're worried. I can't fix everything for you—"
"Nor should you—"
"But we can try this together. One step at a time."
Remus brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her palm. "Thank you."
A moment of silence fell between them. "You really want to be a dad?"
"I do."
"I hope it stays that way come March . . . we're having a girl."
Remus twisted his torso, despite the pain, and hugged his wife with every ounce of strength he had. She had given him all the happiness in the world, and in a few months, she'd be giving him a daughter.