Questions and Answers

little_bird

Story Summary:
What happens when the past collides with the present and threatens to cast the Potters' and Weasleys' lives into disarray...

Chapter 98 - Second Chances

Posted:
04/16/2016
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Lily's owl Darcy tapped on the kitchen window. 'Were you expecting a letter from Lily?' Harry asked Ginny.

'No. Not today at any rate.' Ginny opened the window to let Darcy inside. He neatly dropped the letter next to Ginny's plate, then landed gracefully on the owl perch in the corner. Ginny used her knife to slit open the envelope. A single sheet of parchment fell into her hand. She scanned it, a line appearing between her brows. 'That's odd.'

'What?' Harry asked around a mouthful of toast.

Ginny took a sip of tea and cleared her throat. '"Dear Mum and Dad," she writes. "Dear Mum and Dad, I was wondering if I might have a word with you in person, preferably before the Easter holiday. There's a Hogsmeade weekend coming up next week. Perhaps we could meet in the Three Broomsticks? The first round is on me." Cheeky monkey. Then it just says, "Lily."' Ginny set the letter down. 'What do you suppose this is all about?'

Harry spread jam on his second slice of toast. 'Neville mentioned they were going to start Career Advice fourth year. Maybe it's something to do with that.'

Ginny began to laugh. 'Oh, Merlin! You don't think she wants to do something barmy like become an Unspeakable?' Peals of laughter rang through the kitchen. Ginny wiped her eyes with a tea towel. 'You know what would be even funnier?' She snorted with mirth. 'If she wanted to be an Auror!' Ginny whooped and slapped her hand on the table several times. 'That's just the dizzy limit. Especially after the examples she's had.'

Harry pulled the letter across the table and thoughtfully looked down at it. 'Gin? What if she does want to be an Auror?' Harry stared at the terse words on the page, written in his daughter's loopy hand, realization prickling down his spine. 'If it was any other profession, she'd have said it outright, don't you think?' His head tilted to one side. 'That, or play Quidditch.'

Ginny stared at Harry for a long moment. 'Blimey.' She took a deep breath and picked up her mug of tea. 'What if that's what she wants? We've never considered it for a second.' She sipped her tea. 'It does rather make sense. If you really think about it, and we've never really thought about it. All those self-defense classes during her summer hols, learning how to pick locks with hairpins and the like. She's obsessed with getting top marks in Defense, Charms, Potions, Transfiguration...'

'All the N.E.W.T.s she'll need to enter the Auror training,' Harry finished. He stared into the depths of his tea, as if trying to read the leaves.

'How do you feel about it?'

'Well, I'm not chuffed about it,' Harry said tartly. He scowled and pushed his plate away. 'I only wanted them to...'

'To what? Live an easier life than you or I did? We've done that. They've never known what it means to go to bed hungry or never have anything new unless it was a very special occasion. They haven't had their educations or childhoods disrupted by conflict and war. They haven't known evil in the way you and I have. They've grown up in a loving, stable family. We've taught them to earn what they want to have, and to not behave as entitled spoilt brats. I know you want them to be normal, but you and I both know that's not going happen. And probably not in our lifetimes.' Ginny hesitated. 'Harry, I don't want to dredge up things we'd rather leave be, but I'm not sure telling Lily we might disapprove is the best way to go.'

'Because that worked so well with Albus, didn't it?' Harry slid down in his chair until his head rested against the back. 'She has the makings of a bloody good Auror,' he admitted with great reluctance. 'It's the suspicion of nepotism, you see. When I first started working there, people didn't quite trust me, because they thought I'd been handed the job. I don't want Lily to go through that.'

'And unlike you, Lily will go through the training, like every other potential Auror. And you don't have the final say. Andre will.' Ginny reached across the table and laid a hand over Harry's. 'We didn't handle things well with Albus. I'm not sure we'll ever be able to make things right with him. But with Lily, we'll get a second chance.'

Harry shrugged, then brightened. 'Who knows? It's still early. She might change her mind.'

XxXxXxX

Lily drummed her fingers nervously on the surface of the table. 'Aren't you going to eat something?' Rose asked, spreading jam over her third slice of toast.

'I'm not hungry,' Lily said between clenched teeth.

James clucked sympathetically. 'Do you want me to come with you?'

Lily buried her face in her arms. 'Yes. No.'

James snorted and poured milk over his cereal. 'Well, which is it, then?'

'No,' Lily groaned. 'At least if we're in the Three Broomsticks, Dad can't shout.'

Scorpius and Al slid into the bench. 'What's going on with her?' Al asked.

James looked up from his breakfast. 'She's telling Dad today,' he said shortly.

'Good luck with that,' Al muttered.

Lily lifted her head from the table. 'This is going to be a disaster,' she moaned theatrically.

'No, it won't,' James said firmly. 'You just can't be a bint about it.'

'James, of all the terms in the world...' Sophie sighed.

'Oh, all right,' James groused. 'Don't be a git,' he amended. He pushed his bowl aside and leaned across the table, braced on his elbows. 'When you tell Dad about your career plans, don't be cocky about it. Be humble. Tell him you expect to be put through the wringer, to be driven harder than the other trainees, if there are others. Tell him you expect to earn your place.' A muscle in James' jaw jumped. 'And when he asks why you want to be an Auror, tell him why, and in the name of all that is good and holy, leave your ambitions out if it.' He gave Al a significant glance.

Lily scowled. 'I don't want to be the Head,' she declared emphatically.

James resumed his breakfast. 'I know you don't,' he said. He slurped down half his goblet of orange juice. 'I mean the bit you've said to me about ridding Britain of evil.' He stirred his cereal a few times. 'Being an Auror, it's like being on a Quidditch team. You're only as good as your weakest member.'

Lily's eyes narrowed. 'Yes, oh Wise One, I know.'

'You just keep that in mind,' James ordered, pointing at her with his dripping spoon. 'And if you're lucky, Dad won't get shirty.'

Sophie checked her watch. 'You've got about half an hour before we go.' She rummaged in her bag for a spare quill and some parchment. 'Maybe write it all down. Maddie said it's what Vic did before she told Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur that she wanted to be a Healer.' She handed the parchment and quill to Lily. 'Just in case your mind goes blank.'

XxXxXxX

Three bottles of butterbeer stood on the table. Harry's fingers impatiently beat a tattoo on the back of Ginny's chair. Ginny toyed with a discarded cork, shoulders straightening when she saw Lily enter the Three Broomsticks. 'Harry,' she said in a low voice. 'Just hear her out, all right?'

Harry merely grunted noncommittally. He had to hand it to Lily. It was a shrewd move, suggesting the pub, rather than waiting until the Easter holidays or asking Neville to arrange something at Hogwarts. He wouldn't be able to make a scene. More like you won't make an arse of yourself, he snorted to himself. He also had to admire the bollocks it would take to say it face-to-face, rather than pouring it all out in a letter.

Lily wound her way to the small table in the corner. She smiled nervously at her parents and fumbled with the buttons on her coat. She made a show of arranging it just so on the back of the empty chair before sitting down. Ginny handed her one of the butterbeers. 'I was supposed to buy these,' Lily exclaimed in dismay.

'You can get the next ones,' Ginny said soothingly. 'Now, then. What was so important that you needed us to come up to Hogsmeade and take away your chance to stuff yourself with sweets for lunch?'

More out of needing something to do than actual thirst, Lily took a long pull of the butterbeer. 'They started doing Career Advice in fourth year this term,' she said awkwardly, picking at the label on her bottle. 'They want to try to intervene before O.W.L.s, you see,' she explained. Harry and Ginny both nodded. 'Right, so I...' Lily trailed off. She twisted in her chair, groping for her coat pocket. She produced a small piece of parchment with a flourish and smoothed it out on the table. 'I want to be an Auror.' Harry reached for his drink and took a large gulp so he didn't tell her no before Lily could even take a breath after her statement. Lily's eyes flicked between her parents before settling on Ginny, who nodded encouragingly. Lily took a deep breath. 'Dad, I know you want us to do something less... lethal, really. I know you also want us to go into something where we earn our way, without the slightest breath of nepotism, but to be honest, Dad, there isn't much we can do, unless we want to do something barmy, like, I dunno, become an accountant, in the Muggle world where nobody knows us. This family's so bloody large, that it doesn't really matter what I decide to do, someone has already done it or is already doing it.' Lily took a sip of her butterbeer. 'I knew when I started Hogwarts that whatever I chose to do, I would have to make sure that my marks, at least, were above reproach. I didn't want anyone to be able to say I got my place in the Auror training program because of who I am, instead of what I've accomplished.'

'Good plan,' Ginny murmured, squeezing Harry's knee, as he shifted restlessly.

Lily flattened her palm over the parchment, gazing intently at Harry. 'I know you, Dad. If I were to successfully enter the program, you will ask the Auror in charge of the trainees that I'm not to be given special or preferential treatment.' Lily paused, pulling the end of her ponytail over her shoulder, twisting her finger in a lock of hair. 'Actually, you won't ask,' she said circumspectly. 'You'll demand.'

'Of course I would,' Harry interjected.

'And I wouldn't expect anything less,' Lily shot back. 'In fact, I expect that if I were to fail any portion of the training, even by fraction of a point, that my chances of even having second go at it would be horribly small.' She picked at a hangnail on her thumb. 'Sorry,' she muttered. 'I didn't mean to be cheeky.' Lily tossed the end of her ponytail over her shoulder. 'You've said things are better now than when you were my age. And from what I've read, you aren't telling me half the story. I want to keep something like that from ever happening again. Or if it does, help defeat the witch or wizard.' She folded her hands together. 'I have an obligation to do so.'

Harry cleared his throat, and leaned his elbows on the table. 'An obligation to whom, may I ask?'

Lily looked down, and she began to carefully fold the parchment, lining up the edges just so. 'You. Mum. James. Albus. Grandmum and Granddad. My aunts and uncles. My cousins. Their children, if they have any. My children. If I have any.' She waved a hand at the rest of the pub. 'Our world. The life the two of you fought so hard to preserve.' She trailed off, slouching a little in embarrassment. Lily grabbed her butterbeer and took several gulps. She set the bottle down and waited several agonizingly long moments for either of her parents to respond.

Harry studied Lily's tense face. He inhaled deeply and said, 'Well, then, how can I argue against that?' Lily visibly sagged in relief. Harry blinked rapidly and pulled his glasses off, pressing his fingers to his eyes. 'It's dusty in here,' he muttered to Ginny defensively. Ginny smothered a smile. Dennis Creevey kept the Three Broomsticks absolutely spotless. Harry reached across the table and grasped one of Lily's hands. 'You're right. I'd rather you did something else. You're my child, and I can't help feeling like I should protect you from everything. But that's my problem, not yours. I realize you're not asking for my permission. You wouldn't. You're like your mother in that you know exactly what you want. I will give you my blessing, though. And once you start training, because I have no doubt you'll easily qualify, I promise I will be as uninvolved as I can.'

Lily's face brightened with a wide smile. 'Thank you, Dad.' She glanced at the bar and said, 'Can I get either of you anything? I'm starving.'

XxXxXxX

Ginny approached Daphne outside the Leaky Cauldron. 'Are you feeling all right?' she asked, studying the other woman's face. Daphne was normally quite fair to begin with, unless she'd been to visit her mother-in-law in southern France. Today, however, she seemed to be paler than usual. Daphne's nodded, and the weak sunlight caught the purple smudges under her eyes. Ginny squinted slightly. Perhaps it was only the effect of the shadows slanting over her face.

Daphne visibly swallowed. 'Fine,' she croaked. Ginny looked at her skeptically, so Daphne amended, 'I'll be all right. I'm just a bit tired, and Apparating seems to have upset my stomach today. That's all.'

Ginny didn't look convinced, but she didn't pry and merely opened the door and walked into the warm public room, pulling her coat off as she headed toward the stairs that would take them to the private room where they would meet Ginny's sisters-in-law. Daphne felt her shoulders lower a fraction of an inch when they entered the room. Ginny's sisters-in-law weren't precisely friends, but they were mostly friendly. Daphne envied the warmth and ease between them. Not that her relationship with her own sister was cool or hostile, but they weren't as close as they could have been. Daphne preferred a more quiet life, while Astoria liked to socialize and be seen. Furthermore, Astoria wasn't exactly discreet with the details of Daphne's life. There had been a few incidents when Scorpius was about four or five, where Astoria had revealed to her husband something that Daphne had told her in confidence. It was all over their social circle within a few days. Daphne had never forgiven Astoria for that.

She accepted a bowl of vegetable soup with a murmured word of thanks, and proceeded to spend the next several minutes stirring it with her spoon, sipping just enough broth to avoid questions from the others.

Her behavior didn't go unnoticed. Katie didn't dislike Daphne, but she didn't necessarily like her in the way Ginny seemed to. If pressed, Katie would admit to tolerating Daphne's presence at their weekly lunch. Katie could even grudgingly admire the woman. Daphne was always unfailingly polite, possessed a wry sense of humor that fit in with their usual banter, and she clearly unconditionally loved her son. Sometimes, Katie could forget just who Daphne had married. If only she wasn't married to the ferret, Katie mused, eyeing Daphne over the rim of her water glass. Something isn't quite right, Katie thought idly reaching for a bread roll and slathering it with butter. I've seen that look before, although I can't quite remember where...

Hannah surveyed the table with more than an eye to calling for the pudding. The Leaky Cauldron had recently employed a new cook; the young man was quite good, but he had a tendency to be a bit fanciful with his cookery from time to time, much to the customers' dismay. Daphne's bowl was nearly full. 'Was the meal not to your liking?' she inquired. 'The new cook's always tinkering with his soups,' Hannah sighed.

Daphne started, the spoon clattering against the rim of the bowl. 'Oh. No, it's delicious. I'm afraid I'm not very hungry.' Usually, Daphne loved vegetable soup. In spite of Hannah's new cook, there wasn't anything out of the ordinary with this soup, but something about it made her stomach turn, even though everyone else had eaten with gusto.

Fleur clucked her tongue in sympathy. 'Eet iz a pity zhat Bronwyn iz not 'ere today. She could 'ave a look at you.'

Katie's eyes narrowed. Daphne was hardly wasting away, in fact, despite the exhaustion radiating from the woman; Daphne's cheeks were round with a slight flush blooming over them. Katie leaned back in her chair, head tilted to one side. The buttons of Daphne's blouse gaped slightly, which was highly out of character. Katie had never known her to appear in public with even the merest hint of dishabille about her clothing. Katie chewed a bit of bread slowly. Think, Bell... You've seen that look before... But...where...? 'You're pregnant!' Katie blurted.

Daphne's eyes widened. 'But I can't be!'

Katie's mouth twitched. 'Have you been shagging your husband?' she asked pointedly.

'I, erm, yes,' Daphne admitted.

Katie's brow rose. 'What do you use for contraception? Oh, please tell me you don't rely on charms. Those things are bloody useless.'

Daphne felt sweat break out along her hairline. 'We've been a bit lackadaisical, to be sure,' she whispered. 'I'm fairly certain we're infertile.'

'Whatever gave you that idea?' Hermione asked curiously.

'It took a couple of years to conceive Scorpius,' Daphne said, her voice shaking. 'We sort of tried again when Scorpius was about three.' She ginned slightly. 'You know, one needs a heir and a spare,' she added, with a weak smile at her own joke. 'But nothing ever came of it.'

'How hard were you actually trying?' Hermione shot back.

'Not very,' Daphne confessed. 'Once or twice a month for a year or so.' She took a gulp of water, fingers clutched tightly around the glass. 'Nothing ever happened, so we just assumed nothing ever would.'

Penny leaned over and muttered to Katie, 'What makes you think she's pregnant?'

'Seriously?' Katie scoffed, speaking just loud enough for Penny to hear. 'How many pregnancies have there been, just out of the women in this room? How often have we seen that exact look on each other?'

'I rather think it's just the change,' Daphne said.

'The change?' Ginny said blankly.

'Menopause,' Hermione coughed.

'Oh, right.' Ginny turned to Daphne. 'Maybe you ought to go see a Healer? Just so she can have a look at you.' Daphne visibly hesitated. 'Can't hurt,' Ginny said. 'And what's the worst that can happen?'

XxXxXxX

Daphne wondered for the hundredth time why the Healer's examination room was so chilly. She wouldn't be here at all, save to quiet the suspicion that had been swirling around her head for the past few days. 'I'm sure it's just the change,' Daphne babbled, as Shanti probed and prodded. 'I'm not certain if my mother went through it. She was about my age when she died. My courses stopped, but they've been a bit irregular the past year...'

'Is that so? When was your last cycle?'

Daphne blinked. She squinted at the calendar tacked to the wall. 'January. Twenty-fourth, I think. I mean, I'm fairly certain it was January twenty-fourth.'

Shanti drew the blanket back over Daphne's abdomen and helped her sit up. 'Just a little prick now,' she said softly, and tapped her wand on one of Daphne's fingertips, holding vial filled with clear liquid under it. Daphne hissed at the brief sharp pain, and watched as the single drop of blood splashed into the vial. The liquid slowly changed color to a deep unmistakable blue.

Daphne's pulse began to race. 'What does that mean?' The Healer's expression didn't change.

'You're perfectly healthy,' Shanti pronounced scribbling notes into Daphne's chart. 'For a woman of your age, you're almost indecently healthy.'

'But the fatigue and disinterest in food?'

'That should resolve itself in seven months, give or take a week or two. Well, your appetite should return well before that. The fatigue will last a bit longer.'

Daphne blanched as she slowly realized the meaning of Shanti's statement. 'S-s-seven months?'

'You're pregnant. About nine weeks, give or take a few days.'

'I can't be pregnant!' Daphne protested. 'I'm forty-two! I'm too old to have a baby.'

'I assure you, Daphne, you're pregnant. And forty-two isn't too old to conceive or give birth to a child.'

Daphne buried her face in her hands. 'How...?' She reared back a little. 'I know how, but how...?' She hesitated. 'How does this work at my age...?'

'As it does when you had Scorpius. There are things you need to consider. The risks to you and the baby.' Shanti looked down at her hands. She rarely had to say the next part of her speech, but Daphne needed to know all of her options. 'You have until the twelfth week to terminate with no questions asked; if that is what you choose. We can do it here. Within the next day or two if you like. After that, you're required to have an evaluation by two other Healers to verify continuing the pregnancy is detrimental to your health or there are conditions that will make it impossible for the child to be viable outside the womb.'

'Oh. I see...' Daphne's voice was hardly audible over the roaring in her ears.

'I cannot tell you what to do,' Shanti told her. 'But I strongly urge you to discuss this with your husband.' She paused delicately. 'Presuming the child is his...'

Daphne squeezed her hands together. 'If I was having an affair, I assure you I would have taken every precaution to ensure this didn't happen.' She resisted the urge to pull her knees into her chest and spread her hands flat over her thighs instead. 'What are the risks if I were to have this baby?'

Shanti drew a deep breath. 'Increased chance of miscarriage. Increased risk of preeclampsia or gestational diabetes. The risk of dangerously high blood pressure goes up. You could have placenta previa or placenta abruption. Low birth weight. There could be complications in labor and delivery. The baby could be born with Down syndrome, which doesn't mean it can't live a relatively normal life. However, you'll have to prepare yourself for the distinct possibility it won't be feasible for it to attend Hogwarts.' Sighing, Shanti tossed Daphne's file on the counter of the examination room. 'However, those are all just that. Risks. You take a risk every time you walk out the front door of your house. We'll keep a close eye on your health, watch your diet, but it is entirely possible that you will give birth to a healthy baby.'

Daphne blinked rapidly, trying to process it all. 'I see. Thank you.'

Shanti laid a hand on Daphne's still arm. 'I realize time is of the essence, but you needn't make any decisions right now. Take a few days to think about things.'

Daphne folded her hands together. 'I'll let you know.'

XxXxXxX

Ginny stepped off the lift with a soft sigh of relief. She hated the weekly editors' meeting. Lots of droning on and on while time crept by so slowly it might have been moving in reverse. 'Oi, Ginny,' one of the reporters called softly. 'You've got a visitor.' The young wizard pointed with a scroll of parchment toward Ginny's office. 'She's a posh sort. Said she needed to talk to you. Looked a bit peaky so I told her she could wait in your office.'

Ginny peered through the half-open blinds that covered the windowed wall separating her desk from the others. She could recognize the outline of Daphne sitting ramrod straight in one of the chairs in front of her desk. 'Thanks...' She strode to the office, and closed the door. Daphne sat stiffly, motionless. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap and she stared straight ahead. She was impeccably dressed, as usual, and her hair neatly coiled in a chignon. She was so pale, her complexion looked chalky. 'Daphne, is something the matter?'

Daphne's head swiveled to meet Ginny's concerned gaze. 'I'm pregnant,' she said woodenly. To Ginny's great surprise, Daphne burst into tears.

Hastily, Ginny jabbed her wand at the blinds, affording them a little more privacy. She pulled the chair next to Daphne's closer and tucked a handkerchief in Daphne's hand. 'Is it Draco's?' Daphne glared at Ginny balefully over the edge of the handkerchief. 'Just asking,' Ginny coughed.

'What am I going to do?' Daphne hiccupped.

'Do you want the baby?' Ginny asked curiously.

Daphne sniffed, feeling more exhausted by the minute. 'I don't know,' she confessed morosely.

Ginny's mouth opened slightly and she hesitated. 'You don't have to...' she whispered.

Tears welled in Daphne's grey eyes anew. 'I know.' She swiped the handkerchief over her cheeks. 'Did you ever think about it?'

Ginny inhaled slowly and just as slowly exhaled. 'When I found out I was pregnant with Albus,' she said softly, tracing the carvings on the handle of her wand. 'I didn't seriously consider it, but the thought went through my head...' She wound an arm around Daphne's shoulders. 'You do have to talk about it with Draco,' Ginny advised.

'I know.' Daphne's breath hitched. 'I don't think he'll want it,' she admitted hollowly. 'He once told me he was grateful we didn't have another child, and I don't want to have to raise another baby the way I had to raise Scorpius.'

'You're never going to know until you ask.' Ginny reached up and smoothed away of lock of Daphne's hair that had slipped from the hairpin and straggled into her eyes. 'On the other hand, neither of you are who you were seventeen years ago when Scorpius was born.'

'Oh, God... Scorpius,' Daphne sighed. 'I can't begin to imagine how he's going to take this news.' She twisted Ginny's now-sodden handkerchief in her hands. 'He's had such a difficult time adjusting to Draco and me reconciling, and to throw a baby into this... It's another wedge between us.'

'One thing at a time,' Ginny soothed, flicking her wand at the desk. Two glasses appeared in front of them. Ginny murmured, 'Aguamenti,' holding the tip of her wand over each glass, filling them with water. 'First things first. Figure out what you're going to do. You can worry about Scorpius when you sort things out.'

Daphne drew in a shuddering breath. 'Thank you,' she said quietly. 'I had no intention of falling apart on you as I did.'

Ginny patted Daphne's arm. 'Oh, no worries. It was quite a shock with all three of mine. I understand completely where you're coming from. If you can't cry on your friend's shoulder, who can you cry on?' Daphne smothered a tearful giggle. Ginny reached for a jar on the corner of her desk. 'Chocolate?'

'It helps,' Daphne said, dipping her fingers into the jar. She peeled the brightly colored foil away from a sphere of Honeydukes' chocolate. 'I remember hearing that somewhere at Hogwarts.'

Ginny replaced the lid and began to remove the foil from her own chocolate. 'Remus Lupin. Taught DADA my second year.'

'Yes, of course,' Daphne murmured. 'He always seemed to be very kind and treated everyone fairly. Even Slytherins.'

Ginny popped the chocolate into her mouth and let it melt on her tongue. 'Daphne, could I ask an extremely personal question?'

Daphne shrugged. 'I suppose. I don't have to answer you, do I?'

'No, you don't.' Ginny rubbed a finger over her eyebrow. 'You said at lunch that you'd been somewhat careless with contraception? Just how careless exactly?' Daphne avoided Ginny's penetrating look, and studiously smoothed the creases from the handkerchief. 'Oh, please tell me you used something. And that you weren't using charms, for the love of Merlin,' Ginny said. 'Ruddy useless things.'

'Is that what you used?' Daphne shot back.

'No, but it's how I ended up the youngest of seven,' Ginny replied tranquilly, sipping her water.

Daphne sighed and scrubbed the handkerchief over her face. 'We didn't,' she admitted. 'When I didn't get pregnant again after we had Scorpius, we just assumed we couldn't have another baby.' She felt the sting of tears in her eyes. 'Oh God, I've made a mess of things, haven't I?'

'Go home, wash your face, have a bit of a rest, and tell Draco. The sooner the better, then you won't have to sit there worrying about it,' Ginny told Daphne briskly. 'Don't try to make any decisions tonight. And Daphne?'

'Yeah?'

'This doesn't have to be a bad thing. Maybe it could be a second chance.'

'I suppose...' Daphne stood and pointed her wand at the handkerchief. She handed it back to Ginny, crisp and clean. 'Wish me luck...' She squared her shoulders resolutely and left Ginny's office, calmly dodging the rushing reporters as she approached the lift.

'Good luck,' Ginny whispered.

XxXxXxX

Daphne wandered aimlessly through the mansion, picking up things and putting them down again. The conservatory beckoned with its comforting herbaceous aromas borne on humid warmth. She slipped through the French doors and ambled from one flowerbed to a potted plant to a patch of herbs. Her fingers drifted over the petals of an orchid before combing through tendrils of ivy. She glanced down, surprised to find a pair of pruning shears balanced on her palm. She didn't recall picking them up. 'Daphne?' Draco called softly from the door. Daphne jumped as if he'd jabbed her with a knitting needle. The parrot beak pruning shears fell from her hands, but Draco whipped out his wand and arrested their plunge a bare inch above the toes of her shoes. Draco flicked his wand and the pruning shears floated to the potting table. 'Are you unwell?' he asked.

Daphne swallowed, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. 'We need to talk...'

Draco felt a small knot of cold fear curl through his belly. 'All right,' he said calmly, if not a bit stiffly. He hooked a foot around a rickety stool and pulled it closer. Her perched on the edge, rubbing the palms of his hands over the fabric of his trousers. 'Go on.'

Daphne plucked a sprig of rosemary from a nearby shrub and began to methodically pick the leaves from the stem. 'I hardly know where to start. We... I...' The rosemary leaves drifted into a small pile as they fluttered to the ground between her toes. 'We didn't plan for this to happen.'

'Daphne,' Draco began tentatively, 'what are you saying? Plan for what?' He let his hands rest on his knees. Daphne shook her head, her mouth working soundlessly for a moment. Draco suggested, 'Perhaps if you just say it quickly, it might be easier. Like ripping off a plaster.'

Daphne nodded and blurted, 'I'm pregnant.'

Draco stared at her. 'Pregnant?' He frowned, head tilted to one side. 'I don't understand.'

'We are going to have a baby. In October,' Daphne said shakily. 'If we decide to, that is.'

Draco held up his hands. 'Wait a moment.' He stood up and reached for Daphne's hands, leading her to a small wrought-iron bench in a secluded corner. 'Start over,' he said, pulling her down beside him.

Daphne inhaled slowly. 'I'm pregnant. And the baby's due in October. If we continue the pregnancy.'

'Aren't we too old?' Draco asked in bewilderment.

'Apparently not,' Daphne replied dryly. Draco's mouth opened, and Daphne held up a hand to forestall the inevitable barrage of questions. 'Just let me say what I do know first, all right?' Draco nodded and gestured for her to continue. 'People our age conceive babies all the time. It can be a bit riskier, but it's not a foregone conclusion that anything will go wrong. The Healer would monitor me closely and do all sorts of scary sounding tests.' A faint hopeful light crept into Daphne's eyes. 'If we wanted, in all likelihood, we could have a perfectly healthy child.'

Draco's brows drew together. 'You said if we wanted...'

'We can terminate at will up to twelve weeks,' Daphne said quietly. 'After that, if my health or the child's becomes an issue, it's an option,' she added cautiously. 'I won't decide one way or another without you.'

Draco swallowed heavily. 'What do you want to do?'

Daphne's face tightened fleetingly. 'I hardly know,' she admitted. She idly ran the pad of her thumb over the edge of her fingernails. Words began to tumble out of her mouth. 'What if we're too old? Is it fair to our child to have parents who might not be able to cope with their antics? Is it fair of us to bring a child into our...' Daphne faltered slightly. 'Our situation?'

Draco's spine stiffened. 'Situation?'

Daphne's eyes closed and when she opened them, unshed tears collected in the corners before spilling over the edge of her cheek. 'I can't help but think about Scorpius. He was so isolated as a child, and to willingly subject an innocent child to that all over again.' Daphne shook her head. 'It's unconscionable.' She looked down and spots of color appeared in her pale face. 'You tried so hard to force Scorpius to grow up in the same manner as you. It hurt him in ways I can't even begin to imagine.' The corners of Daphne's mouth turned down. 'When you cared to bother with him. Most of the time, you weren't there. I did so much on my own, that I might as well as raised him by myself. I cannot do that again. I cannot bring another child into this world and watch as you retreat into your old habits and stand on the sidelines, letting your child believe that you couldn't care less about them.

'Draco, if you can't promise me that things will be different this time - that you will make every attempt to be an active and loving parent - I will not have this baby.'