Chapter Thirty-Three: The Circling Foe

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"I can't believe you questioned her…"

The thought of it left Ella with a slightly prickly feeling in her stomach. She put down the fork she had been holding and looked at Harry, her plate no longer particularly appetizing. "Harry, she doesn't know anything. I told you, she didn't even know a thing about his work. She wanted us to tell her… She doesn't know anything, right?"

"She doesn't seem to, no." Harry studied her over his plate. "You're not about to start defending her honor, are you?"

"Well, no," Ella admitted. "But I feel awful about it. She was so nice at tea. I can't imagine how she felt when you lot barged in there, wands blazing."

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"All right, maybe a little. I mean, accusing her husband… Questioning her…"

"I had to," Harry said reasonably. "We already had the warrant."

"Isn't it bad enough that you searched her entire house?"

"Searching her entire house was your plan, wasn't it?" Harry said, sounding a bit amused.

"Sure, but she didn't know about that," Ella explained. "We didn't barge in and accuse her husband of attacking the Ministry and then shake her down like a suspect…" She knew it was a moot point, but she carried on, insisting it had been different. Perhaps it was the guilt. Because she did feel a fair bit of that. Wasn't she the one? Didn't she insist that she needed the answers?

Though even if she hadn't, she knew they were necessary. The evidence had led them to Saul; there was not denying that. And that path now ran through Margaret. A necessary evil, she thought, for the greater good. And her stomach churned unpleasantly.

God, Albus would have been so proud.

The shame must have shown on her face, because when Harry spoke again, his voice was gentle. "El, I'm not saying that she's guilty of anything. We've cleared her for now. But you know that she could be. No matter how nice she was at tea. You know that."

She looked away, her hands twisting in her lap. She thought of Margaret asking Robert how Saul had really died and said nothing.

"She can return to the house soon," Harry added. "Once we're through with searching it. Just a few more days."

And how would she feel, Ella wondered, when she did? Betrayed, probably. Maybe full of doubts that would keep her up at night. Would that leave her with any room to even grieve?

The thought made her feel a bit sick. Or maybe it was just the chemo, she really couldn't tell anymore. She was nearly done with her fifth round now, and despite all of Hannah's potions and reassurances, most days she felt awful. The Soreness Solution was barely touching the stabbing ache in her chest anymore. But she was used to it — to her new reality where everything hurt. Moving. Breathing.

Living.

It was good that Hannah was rechecking her numbers tomorrow. She needed the motivation to keep going.

"I'm going to bed," she said finally, pushing away from the table. "I'm sorry, I just… good night."

Harry reached out, grasping her hand. "I know you cared about Saul. I'm sorry it's like this."

"Oh, don't you apologize," she said, sighing. "I'm not mad at you, husband."

"Are you mad, though?"

"No." She shook her head. "It just sucks. It sucks, Harry, all right? I hate this."

"I know." He squeezed her hand, his fingers warm. "I don't like it much either."

She briefly clasped his hand before vanishing into their bedroom, where she lay wide awake, mind swirling. Harry got in quietly a bit later, slipping beneath the blanket. He turned, wrapping his arms around her, his chin grazing her shoulder. She let him hold her, listening as his breathing evened out into the pattern of sleep.

She hoped his dreams were guilt free, unlike the ones she knew were coming for her. But she would take the guilt a hundred times. A thousand times.

If only it saved Harry.

When Ella awoke next morning, the sun was streaming into the room, and Harry was nowhere in sight. Off to continue his search of Saul's mansion, she supposed. She had been lucky to catch more time with him lately. With the Mysteries investigation at a standstill, Harry had been freer to take liberties at work. To vanish for long lunches, or attend her appointments with Hannah. There would be no more of that for now. Ella didn't really mind; she was used to seeing Hannah on her own. Still, the flat felt particularly empty as she threw some things together for breakfast.

There was hardly time to mope, though. She had to visit Hannah for her stabbing. Then meet Siggy for grading and lesson prep at the Leaky. She had been planning to meet Daniyel after, but she supposed that was out now. He'd likely be working late into the evening with Harry, cataloging odds and ends at Margaret's.

Still, she scribbled a note to Daniyel on a spare bit of parchment and tracked down Hedwig, who was napping with her head under her wing on the perch in the sitting room. It would be good for the aging owl to stretch her wings. Hedwig didn't get many opportunities for mail delivery these days. Not between the long treks made by Sauri, and their chronic abuse of the Patronus charm. But the owl did love Daniyel, and Ella was sure she would appreciate the trip.

"I'm going to see Hannah," Ella told her, stroking her soft feathers. "And then I'm going to the Leaky, all right? Find me there."

Hedwig hooted softly and spread her wings, cuffing Ella's cheek on the way out. She watched her white shape vanish into the glaring sunlight, then grabbed her things and made her way to the Floo.

The waiting room at Hannah's office was nearly bursting at the seams when she arrived. Why, why did it seem like every pregnant witch in all of London was sitting there? She shot them surreptitious looks from where she perched in the corner. At least eight witches in various stages of pregnancy. The blonde in the middle row looked nearly ready to have her baby right then and there. When her healer appeared at the edge of the waiting room and called her name, she waddled away in a slow and deliberate manner.

Ella gave a small sigh, wondering if she'd ever waddle. Though the idea of children now seemed so far away. And it wasn't even her numbers and the slow way they trickled down. She couldn't help but think, sitting there, whether it was really the right thing to do. To bring a child into this world. This cruel and ugly world, where danger lurked round every corner, and Voldemort threatened to rise again.

And could she raise a child… without a father?

Ella shook her head violently, trying to banish the thought.

Awful. She was awful.

There'd be no child to raise anyway, if Harry died.

"Ella."

She glanced up to see Hannah standing at the edge of the waiting room and hurried to follow her, glad to be rid of the sole company of her mind.

"Last shot," Hannah said, holding it up when Ella was settled in her usual chair. "Five rounds. How are you feeling?"

Ella shrugged, glancing away from the vivid yellow vial in its stupid hazard bag. "Glad it's almost Rest Week."

Things weren't generally much better during the rest week these days, but they were better. She appreciated that.

"How's the pleurisy?" Hannah asked.

Ella shrugged again, mentally noting this time that the motion was slightly painful. "It's all right. Still there, though."

"And you're consistently taking the potion?"

"Every night."

Hannah considered her as she pointed her wand at Ella, running through her standard diagnostic screening, which she administered before every shot. "I'll up the dose," she said finally, poking Ella's arm to withdraw a blood sample. "You can take an additional vial in the mornings."

"Mmm." Ella let her eyes trail to the swirling beaker. To how the dribble of red blood Hannah had disbursed into it seemed to vanish, breaking apart into little drops that were overtaken by the swirling green of the potion.

"Impatient?" Hannah asked, and Ella looked up to see her following her gaze.

"You could say that." She laughed softly. "I'd make a terrible Hufflepuff."

Hannah smiled. "I think you'd be surprised. This all takes more patience than most people readily possess."

"Well, I'm definitely most people then," Ella said softly. Because the truth was she hated waiting, and she had no patience. But it seemed childish to say so.

"Oh, I don't know." Hannah turned to the beaker, which had turned a yellow worthy of Hufflepuff House, and touched her wand to the glass, causing the contents within to shift slightly.

"Well?" Ella said, when Hannah's expression remained unchanged.

Hannah turned to face her. "Do you recall what I said earlier about mid-cycle numbers?"

"Er—" Ella felt her mouth go dry. "No. When?"

"At the beginning of treatment," Hannah clarified. "About how the most accurate number will be drawn at the end of the cycle, and the mid-cycle number may fluctuate."

"Fluctuate," Ella repeated, trying to swallow past the lump that seemed to have formed in her throat. "Is there a problem?"

"Not a problem," Hannah said. "But the number is 580."

"580?" Ella gasped, and she felt terribly, terribly cold. "It's a rise. Hannah, it went up!"

"It did," Hannah agreed. "But remember, this is a mid-cycle number. There is always the possibility of seeing a small rise at this stage."

"But it's been dropping consistently." Ella's hands were shaking. "Even mid-cycle! And the drops have been getting smaller too. Am I getting resistant to the chemo?"

"It's entirely too soon to think about resistance," Hannah said, gesturing with her hand that Ella should relax. "I know this is difficult and it's not the news you wanted, but please try not to worry, all right? This is a very small mid-cycle rise. And your last drop was excellent, Ella. We're getting down to the smaller numbers now, so everything that happens — every cell that dies, and every bit of HCG that it releases, is much more noticeable. So what we're going to do is finish this cycle, and then we will recheck the numbers again next Friday. And hopefully at that stage we will have another good drop."

Ella said nothing, staring at the floor.

"Is that all right?" Hannah prodded.

"Yeah," Ella said dully, refusing to meet her eyes.. Her lip trembled, and she bit down on it, hard. "It's all right."

It wasn't all right.

She stood, turning away as Hannah touched her wand to the vial of methotrexate, elongating one end into the needle that would lodge itself into her skin.

Nothing was all right.

She shifted her clothes, baring her skin for Hannah.

Why did this keep happening? Why was it that every time she grew used to the state of her life, something would happen to pull the rug out from under her?

She leaned over the chair, squeezing hard against the handles to keep her hands from shaking.

Someone had written in their molar pregnancy support group just last week that everything happened for a reason. So what was the reason?

She felt the soft touch of Hannah's hand on her skin. A light pinch, followed by the sharp sting of the needle.

Was it punishment? For being too happy. Too lucky.

Or for the pain they had inflicted on Margaret Croaker?

She could feel the MTX shooting through her. Seeping into her muscles. An invading stranger.

Was it her fault?

Did she deserve this?

She pushed away from the chair, fixing her clothes in silence as every inch the drug touched slowly began to burn.

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By the time Ella walked into the Leaky Cauldron in search of Siggy, she could not describe her state of mind as anything resembling positive. Her thoughts were swirling in such a frenzy that she nearly walked into a gaggle of witches at the door, stepping around them at the last moment.

"Sorry," she said abruptly, walking further into the pub without pausing to see the effects of her apology. She was too deep in her thoughts to care either way.

Just a small mid-cycle rise, Hannah had called it. As if such things happened all the time.

Maybe they did.

She had certainly seen others in the support forum discuss them. But having a history of mid-cycle rises, and suddenly getting one when she hadn't… Her fingers itched to seek out the forum, the words she wanted to write already forming in her head.

Could use some support, she'd say. Because she really, really could. From people who understood her intrinsically without being invested in the greater drama of her life. Been doing MTX since February and my numbers have been dropping nicely. Down to 501 from 45K at the start of round 5. I'm supposed to start round 6 next Friday, but just rechecked my HCG mid-cycle, and it went up to 580… I don't believe this. I'm so upset, I don't even know what to think. I've never had a mid-cycle rise before. I feel like every time I finally come to terms with this shit and start being all right with what's happening, something else happens and it all just goes downhill. Again, and again, and again. I just want to be done with this journey. I want to close this chapter and move on. And now all I can do is wait again… and wonder if I'll be moved to another chemo. What if that doesn't work either?

Is this ever going to end?

How awful— No, how awful would it be, if she died from this, and Harry died for Voldemort, and they all just died, and then they'd just be dead.

She nearly burst into tears right there in the middle of the Leaky.

She drew in a breath, gathered herself, and glanced around the pub in search of Siggy, whom she spotted perched at a table in the far corner.

"Hey," Ella said, approaching her. She was relieved her voice didn't sound like she was holding back a liter of tears. At least she hoped it didn't.

Siggy nodded in greeting, shifting her bag aside so that Ella could sit.

"Sorry, I'm late," Ella added. She had lost track of time again, wandering the busy streets in circles as her mind raged. "Were you waiting long?"

"No, it's fine."

Siggy had taken her hands off her bag and was looking at Ella in silence. Probably waiting for her to do something. To whip out some homework or a lesson plan. She couldn't think of a single thing to do. A single thing to say. What was she even teaching about tomorrow?

She realized her hands had been fumbling around in her bag with no idea of what they were searching for. Her mind was simply blank. As if the universe had asked her to instruct on Ancient Runes or Divination rather than dimensions.

Well fuck the universe. Fuck the universe.

"Are you all right?" Siggy asked, her voice soft. There was a frown working its way across her face, and Ella realized she'd just been sitting there, probably staring into space, while her mind traveled to all the places it shouldn't go. And why, why was she always doing that?

"Yeah," she said, and then, "no. Not really."

"What's wrong?" Siggy asked, her frown deepening.

Ella sighed, glancing down at her hands. She wasn't quite sure what to say, but she also thought she might burst if she didn't say something. Because the weight in her stomach had to weigh at least 580 pounds.

"I just… I got some bad news about my treatment," she said finally. Then amended, "Some potentially bad news. But it feels more bad than not. It's all bad, really."

"I'm sorry. Is it… er, is it going to be all right?"

Ella considered that, still staring down. Examining the wooden grain of the table. "Maybe. I hope so."

She couldn't say, I think so. That scared her.

When had she become this person who panicked so easily? Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad without everything else. Maybe without the Ministry, and Saul's betrayal, and the horcruxes weighing her down, she could have laughed in the face of these numbers. Hadn't it been like that in the beginning?

She couldn't remember the last time she had really laughed.

When had she stopped believing that everything would be all right?

"Your treatment…" Siggy said, her quiet voice cutting into Ella's contemplations. "It's something related to a pregnancy… isn't it?"

"Dan told you?" Ella glanced up, goosebumps flaring across her arms. She rubbed them, briefly wondering why she had started this conversation that she wasn't sure she was ready to have.

"No, I kind of just… figured it out." Siggy paused, watching her. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I dunno," Ella said honestly. "I reckon I do, and then I don't. And then I do." She fell silent again, twisting her hands together. Siggy contemplated her.

"I think…" she said finally, "that losing someone is really hard. It's always hard. And then sometimes it's even harder. If there's something… something complicated that…" She trailed off, holding Ella's gaze for just a moment before looking away.

"I… I didn't really…" And then Ella paused, considering it. That wasn't what was so upsetting— I didn't really lose someone. But she had, hadn't she? The baby she had imagined into being the second she saw that first positive glowing in the light of her wand. That baby had been alive once, at least in her heart.

The baby she had never really stopped to grieve, because the world was spinning so fast she could barely stand her ground, and all her mental real estate was occupied. She bit her lip, trying to force her eyes into submission.

Was that what it was, after all? Was it the shadow of that imagined child that weighed her down now?

"I was almost a mum," she said quietly, tasting all the pain that was folded into that simple word. Mum. "And then I wasn't."

What would she give for her sleepless nights to be sleepless because a baby was keeping her up? A sweet, adorable baby with round cheeks and chubby thighs and special smiles just for her, rather than thoughts of failing chemo, and Harry's horcrux, and everyone dying.

"It isn't your fault," Siggy breathed. "Whatever happened. You tried your best, didn't you? You wanted to do something amazing. You didn't mean to hurt anyone… lose your baby."

"No." Ella managed a teary smile at that. A realization that this was finally it; the moment she'd been avoiding all this time. "Do you know what cancer is?"

Siggy looked slightly taken aback, but only just. She nodded. "I do."

"How about a molar pregnancy?" Her palms felt suddenly hot and sticky, and she brushed them against the hem of her shirt,

Siggy frowned at that, shaking her head slightly.

"Right." Ella hadn't really expected a different answer. She drew in a steadying breath, and placed her hands back on the rough tabletop. Felt the wooden ridges beneath her palms. "It's something a bit odd. You see it wasn't… wasn't really a baby…"

She spoke for ages, perched at that scuffed table in a dim corner of the Leaky until her mouth ran dry and tears trailed down her cheeks. It didn't matter that the coursework lay forgotten. The words simply poured out of her. Each coming easier than the last, and leaving her just a little bit lighter. Until even the 580 extra pounds didn't weigh quite so much as they had before. Maybe they weren't pounds at all, just tears. And she had cried them out.

"I'm terrified," she admitted, when she was done. "I'm not sure what's going to happen. I'm afraid all the time."

"I'm sorry," Siggy said quietly, when Ella had finally talked herself into silence. "That's a lot. You've been through a lot, and you… You're brave."

"I don't feel brave at all." She was barely holding on. Too weak to weather the betrayal of her own body.

"You are," Siggy insisted, shaking her head. "You've always had an amazing… an inspiring amount of courage. I know you'll fight through this. And you'll beat it. Because you're strong."

Ella didn't feel very strong. Or brave. Or sure. But she managed a weak smile at that, because it was nice when someone believed in you. Her eyes met Siggy's, held them, and she was struck by how tired the girl looked. By the dark shadows under her eyes, which seemed to have burrowed deep into her skin. Had Siggy never recovered from her cold weeks ago? She felt awful for not noticing.

"Are you all right?" Ella asked, feeling slightly ashamed for once again barreling ahead with all her feelings on like blinders.

"Of course, I'm fine." Siggy smiled.

"You look tired."

"Oh." She blushed in embarrassment. "Dan's been— you know. Should we get to the lesson plan?"

"Right, yeah." Ella reached into her bag again, managing to actually find her notes this time. She withdrew them and placed them neatly on the table, her thoughts finally drifting from the mess of her life to land instead on Siggy.

Was she relying too heavily on her? Siggy was much too eager to help. Had she taken advantage?

"All this work," Ella began, her hands still pressed against the notes. "I know you have other classes, and life, and Dan. If it's too much, I can—"

"It's not," Siggy said quickly. "I love helping you."

She reached out a hand for the notes, and Ella finally passed them over. She watched as Siggy flipped through them, her eyes blurring as she scanned the parchment of the latest lesson plan. They had taken to reviewing them together, so that Siggy could step in to teach if needed. She'd smiled widely when Ella had first suggested it weeks ago. But now, poring over the papers in the dim light of the pub, that smile looked rather strained.

Ella frowned. It was so easy to forget, when she was deep in the thick of it, that other people also lived, and breathed, and hurt. And Siggy tended to err on the side of Overly Helpful, even with her own trauma so fresh behind her. It was one of those Hufflepuff qualities Robert prioritized, sometimes to his detriment. Though he always said that helping others helped him. Perhaps Siggy was a Hufflepuff too, she'd never asked.

Still, she couldn't keep taking advantage. She was barely even doing half of her work anymore. She would scale back the homework assignments, she decided. Less essays. The students would be pleased, and it would lighten Siggy's workload. And her own. And that would give her time. Time to split between the two big bads in her life — Voldemort and the molar pregnancy. The horcruxes and the chemo treatments. The foe they needed to kill, and the one she had to survive.

She sighed inwardly. The week ahead would be painfully long, essays or no. If she was going to worry anyway, she needed to worry about something less awful.

And she really was worried about Siggy.