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hp_bunintheovenTitle: Worth Loving
Author/Artist:
Pairing(s): Theodore Nott/Millicent Bulstrode
Prompt: # H8
Summary: Marriage and a baby. That was the deal. Love wasn't something she expected to want. Or give. Did she even know how?
Word Count: 9800ish
Rating: R
Warnings/Contains: none
Notes: Thank yourosevalleynb for your lovely prompt. I hope I did it justice because the characters went their own merry way and reeling them back in was a challenge (but in a good way). Extra special thank-yous to my wonderful beta L for putting up with me signing up for another fest. ;)
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
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It was fitting that the rain started to fall the moment they began to lower her father into the ground. Millicent Bulstrode turned her face toward the sky and let the raindrops hit her face before looking at the polished wood of the casket. At least it looked like she was crying now and her wheelchair-bound Great Auntie Eunice, her father's aunt, would stop glowering at her and muttering about how ungrateful she was and that it was no wonder that both her parents had chosen an early grave.
Nevermind that her mother had died after contracting Dragon Pox when she was three. Or that her father had lost the ability to fight off the despair in Azkaban after the war.
Neither had been a choice, Millicent thought bitterly, wondering if perhaps her life would have been different if both had survived.
Swiping at a drop of water that hung from her nose, she stepped back to allow the house elves to wheel the old woman back to the house. Millicent remained at the family plot, glancing toward a white tombstone that headed a grave which was decorated with jonquils. It was too late in the year for them, but the happy, yellow flowers magically bloomed all year round. They'd been planted after the first snow had melted following her mother's death. It was the one nice thing that she could ever remember her father doing and was possibly the only thing she could remember being thankful that he did.
A shadow passed over her head and she looked up to see a large, black umbrella shielding her from the rain. Turning, Millicent was surprised to see Theodore Nott standing behind her.
The last time she'd seen Theodore had been just after the Slytherin Students had evacuated to the Hog's Head Inn. She didn't know if he'd scarpered off to join some of the other foolish students who'd gone back to fight—and in Vince's case, die—with the others, or find his own father. After the battle there hadn't been news of his father going to trial or being imprisoned. How the Notts had managed to avoid punishment, she didn't know. Most everyone she knew had either had their name dragged through the mud or had family members sent to Azkaban. Not Theodore, though. Millicent could feel a frown tugging at her lips as she looked at him. Maybe there was a little bit of residual resentment still hanging around.
"I heard your father was being buried today," he said, pushing dark hair out of his eyes. "My condolences."
Millicent snorted a dry laugh, turning away from the grave and facing him. "I'm not certain if my father or I deserve anyone's condolences."
He gave a curt nod, glancing over her shoulder at the hole where her father lay. Millicent didn't follow his gaze, wincing slightly at the hollow thump that the shovelfuls of dirt made as they hit the casket. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her long black cloak, balling them into fists. She didn't want to go back to the house and spend even more time with her ailing aunt. She didn't want to start having "the conversation" about what she was to do with the estate or the vaults or her duties to care for Eunice in her advanced age.
Millicent drew in a breath and opened her mouth.
"Join me for a drink?" Theodore asked before she could request the same thing.
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"You're mad." She finished off the glass of prosecco, signalling to the server for another. "Completely starkers."
Theodore tilted his head, eying her, a motion that used to infuriate her when in school as if he was internally rolling his eyes at her reaction. He reached for the small glass of scotch that he'd been sipping and ran an index finger around the mouth of it and they sat in a less than comfortable silence until the server showed up with her second glass. Millicent reached for it, taking a large gulp and coughing at the fizzy bubbles catching in her throat.
"It's not that mad," Theodore said with an almost elegant shrug that she'd never been able to mimic.
"Theodore, we haven't spoken to each other since Hogwarts. We barely spoke to each other at Hogwarts and you're now suggesting that we get married. You. Marry me."
"That's exactly what I'm suggesting."
There had to be a catch. She half expected Blaise and Greg or even Draco to jump out and start laughing at the prank. It had to be a prank. There was no possible way that someone like Theodore would ever consider marrying someone like her. He was her complete opposite. He was tall and refined and almost ageless. His height had been inherited from his father, but everything else—his smooth skin, angled eyes and cheekbones that she was certain would cut glass—had been from his mother and her family.
Millicent knew she wasn't stunning like Daphne or Tracey and while a later growth spurt in fifth year had given her some extra height to even out the weight, she'd never managed the slinky, willowy silhouette of the other girls. She had hips. She had breasts. She had the sort of figure that, even when she spent an entire week eating only celery which caused her to nearly faint in the middle of Astronomy Class, just held onto the curves. She was not the sort of girl the likes of Theodore Nott or Blaise Zabini went for.
Theodore lifted a napkin and daubed at the corner of his mouth. "I just need a wife... and an heir. I'd rather it be with someone that I know than a complete stranger my mother and some matchmaker back in Shenzhen have arranged for me."
She opened her mouth to ask. Why her? Why not someone else? He knew a number of girls from their year and could probably have any pick of them. But then she realised that maybe they were distancing themselves from the typical Slytherin pureblood matches. She'd heard that Daphne had turned down Draco and was seeing some young wizard she'd met through mutual friends in France. She'd heard that her sister hadn't been so picky. Pansy had left England for America and she'd not heard anything of the other witch since. Maybe that was the reason he was coming to her. She was all that was left.
She ought to be furious about becoming someone's last resort.
Maybe he was hoping she would say no.
But then her Auntie Eunice's voice hissed through her head, saying things about how she'd never amount to anything of which any normal pureblood would be proud. She looked at Theodore and tried to read his expression. There didn't appear to be any malice behind his eyes. She sighed. The thought of going home to spend the rest of her days in an empty house filled with bad memories and a reminder that she really wasn't worth sticking around filled her with discomfort.
Millicent picked up her glass, suddenly and held it out to him. "Fine," she said, waiting for him to tap his glass against hers. "I'll marry you, then."
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When she'd pictured her wedding, Millicent had always drawn a blank. She'd never imagined anything for herself because she'd never had a boy show interest in her long enough for her to become attached. Even when she was small and visiting the Parkinson manor to play with Daphne and Pansy, it had always been the other girls pulling the lace curtains down from Pansy's windows and tucking them into their skirts to make long trains. Millicent occasionally would wear a circlet of flowers and carry the train behind them, but she was always the flower girl or the maid of honour. Never the imagined bride. Never the one marrying the fantasy boy.
So the short ceremony at the Ministry and the paperwork they signed didn't break her heart.
She'd never had the dream, so it was never dashed.
There had been a few complaints at first. All of them from Theodore's mother. Not in his choice of bride, but the speed at which the wedding took place. Millicent didn't understand the arguments between Theodore and his mother because the pair spoke rapidly in Chinese, but she knew that disapproving sniff. Later he had explained that there were a number of cultural traditions they were leaving out that his mother was concerned about.
"She thinks we are setting ourselves up for bad fortune," he'd said. "I tried to tell her that we weren't interested in an extravagant ceremony or exchanging betrothal gifts or all the other little ceremonies. She's not happy about that."
"So let's include some," she'd suggested, realizing that it would be a much easier life if Theodore's mother didn't blame her for his choices. "I don't have any special requests. So it wouldn't hurt to let her..."
In the end they allowed his mother to set the date—the 16th based on their mutual lucky numbers and the fact that it was made up of two eighths—and arrange the matrimonial bed. Millicent didn't know what the latter entailed, nor did she know all the proper etiquette of the tea ceremony that they had also agreed to perform, but in the end the papers were signed and the tea was served, Millicent making sure to follow the whispered instructions from Theodore until it was over.
And then they were married.
It ended with food. Plates upon plates of dishes that Millicent didn't recognise and some that she did. It was too much for such a small gathering of people and Auntie Eunice complained under her breath about Millicent's wasteful nature and how strange it all was. Millicent kept quiet and served her aunt the plainest of bread and clearest of soup until the old woman had enough and proclaimed she was returning to the house. An elf took her home to the Mungo's nurse that had been hired to care for her and soon after Theodore's parents departed. They were now alone in the large Chelsea townhouse that had been a wedding gift from his parents.
He pointed his wand at a large rope on the wall and somewhere in the lower level of the house a bell must have jangled because soon the plates were clearing themselves and the candles began to snuff. His elves were very efficient.
Millicent searched her head for something to say. Something that would break the thick silence that had ballooned between them. She looked at her new husband, trying to read his expression and wondered if he was regretting any of this.
Theodore's eyes met hers and he gestured lightly toward the stairs. "Shall we?"
Quite suddenly Millicent was surprised to find that nervous butterflies had taken up residence in her stomach. Planning a wedding on such short notice had consumed them both and she'd almost forgotten the other part of his reason for marrying her. But now that the wedding was over and they were alone, the second half of the arrangement was looming over her in a way that she wasn't sure she was ready for.
He paused and glanced at her. "I've never forced a woman... if you're not..."
Millicent flushed and shook her head. She did not want to give him a reason to complain about her to his friends. "No, it's fine," she said hastily and set her jaw, taking the lead and climbing the stairs.
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Sex with Theodore was not unsatisfying. Millicent didn't have anything beyond what she'd done on her own to compare it to and every time they'd been together he had been good at making sure that she came before he did. So there was that. But there was something missing and even her lack of experience said there was something missing. He always managed to make sure she was ready. It was never painful and he always seemed to find his own satisfaction in the end. But there was a disconnect. Like they were just going through the motions even if they both reached climax in the end.
He rarely looked at her. He barely kissed her.
And when it was over, they didn't embrace each other in the afterglow. They just finished, rolled over and went to sleep.
"You look tired," Astoria gushed, sipping from a cup of tea that she'd taken great pains to cradle in a way that showed off the giant ring that Draco had given her a few weeks back.
Millicent saw the other witch more often these days. Three months into her marriage with Theodore and she'd come to learn that Draco was almost like a brother to her husband, which she had somehow never realised during their years at school. It made socialising with both him and Astoria a common occurrence and Millicent didn't say as much but she was starting to find it exhausting. Astoria was not the sort of witch Millicent ever really befriended in school and she found her personality to be a bit soft. Like porridge.
And it made Millicent miss Pansy terribly.
Astoria gave Millicent a sly look. "Theo must be wearing you out at night."
Millicent bristled at the shortening of her husband's name and almost shot the other woman a glowering look. She'd never liked when people assumed that 'Millie' was an acceptable way to address her and she found that she didn't like people calling him Theo instead of Theodore either. But starting up an argument with the younger witch who was now engaged to Theodore's best friend was not the best idea, so she kept her mouth shut and shrugged. She wished Pansy was here.
"I feel the same as always," she said and reached for the plate of chocolate digestives.
It wasn't true though. She'd been out of sorts all week and unable to get through the day without an afternoon nap, of which the tea with Astoria was very much interrupting. Her stomach had been in knots since the previous evening and she wondered if there had been something wrong with the pasta they'd had for supper. Millicent nibbled on the digestive and couldn't stop the disgusted look from crossing her face, the dry crumbs sticking to her tongue and the dark chocolate making her mouth feel strange. She set down the biscuit and her teacup, pushing both away.
"Oh Millie, you look positively green," Astoria said, pushing her lip out in a little pout. "Are you sure you're not coming down with something?"
"Millicent," she said under her breath before sitting back in her seat. She forced a smile and reached for her wand, pointing it at the bell pull. Moments later a house elf appeared. "Trip, I've just remembered that I need to travel up to Norfolk to see my Aunt before she leaves for her annual winter stay in Majorca. Would you help Astoria gather her things?" She looked across the settee at the other woman. "I'm sorry. I should have remembered before you came all this way."
Once Astoria was gone, Millicent went up to the bedroom to change her clothes. The dark trousers and patternless blouse would probably get some sort of disparaging comment from Auntie Eunice, but her attention wouldn't remain very long with little to pick at. Or so Millicent hoped. Before leaving, she wrote a short note and left it on a table in the front hall for Theodore to read when he got home from work. She would stay for supper, possibly overnight, to not wait up for her.
And then she left.
"I don't like this story. Find another," Eunice said, picking at her plate.
Millicent closed the book and set it aside. "Do you have any requests, Auntie?"
"None that you can find in this house. Your father didn't have a vast collection... oh just read the one we've been reading. I'll find something better once I've gotten to the house in Majorca." The older woman set her steely gaze on the plate of food in front of Millicent, peas pushed around on the plate to look as if they'd been eaten and a half cut apart chicken breast. "You haven't gotten the foolish notion in your head to diet, have you?"
Millicent shook her head and flipped a page in the book. "No diet. I just don't feel well. Do you want me to reread chapter four? You enjoyed that chapter the last time I was here."
Eunice raised a forkful of chicken to her mouth. "Good," she said, ignoring Millicent's question. "Dieting isn't good for the baby."
Her finger stilled on the page and Millicent looked at her aunt. The old woman had a smug expression on her face and continued to chew her chicken noisily, her teeth clicking behind her lips. Dropping her hand away from the book, Millicent watched as the pages flipped, losing her place and she flattened her hand against her abdomen. Hadn't she just had her period? Or had that been last month? She couldn't remember and her mind was a bit of a fog.
"Your mother used to get the same look on her face with you. She disliked every bit of food in the first few months." Eunice paused. "You hadn't guessed?"
"No..." Millicent said quietly. "I thought it would take longer..."
Setting her knife and fork in an X on her plate, Eunice rang a little hand bell on the table. The plate disappeared and the Bulstrode family elf appeared. "Take Millicent to St. Mungo's. She shouldn't be apparating on her own."
This side of Eunice, the almost caring and doting maternal figure, was unfamiliar to Millicent and very disconcerting. She'd spent so much time hearing all the snide remarks from the old woman that it almost felt as if some stranger had polyjuiced into her aunt without researching how to act like her. But she said nothing. Instead she bid her aunt a safe trip for the winter and let the elf take her away.
At St Mungo's she had Eunice's diagnosis confirmed.
It didn't feel real.
Of course it made sense, logically. She was married. She had sex with her husband on a decently regular schedule. Not once had they used any sort of protection spells or potions and Theodore had made no secret about his desire to have a child through their marriage. But for some reason she hadn't thought it would happen. For some reason she'd thought one day she'd wake up and he'd realise that marrying Millicent Bulstrode had been a mistake and suggest that they part ways.
"Trip says you went to Norfolk to see your aunt off for the winter?" Theodore asked, walking into the room. "Is she well?"
Millicent had been sitting on the edge of the bed and wasn't surprised that he was just now getting home. "She's still the same Eunice. I did leave a note in case I was longer than expected."
Breathing deeply, she slipped out of her slippers and settled into the bed. She watched briefly as Theodore started to undress before he disappeared into the adjacent dressing room. When he returned, he wore a robe and her gaze drifted down to his bare legs before he pulled back the covers. Soon the robe was discarded and while she'd never felt uncomfortable by his nakedness before, Millicent shifted uneasily catching his hand by the wrist before he was able to touch her.
"You don't have to anymore," she said deciding it was best to let him off the hook.
"Have to..."
"Eunice made me go to St Mungo's after supper. The healers confirmed it. They said I'll have the baby in the middle of June sometime. So we really don't need to keep trying. Isn't that a relief?" Millicent turned on her side. "I'm quite tired though; I think I'll go to sleep."
Pulling the dark red blanket up over her shoulder and pressing her face into the pillow, Millicent squeezed her eyes shut. After a moment, she heard Theodore stoop to pick up his robe and then the soft opening and shutting of the door. There was a pinch somewhere in her chest and she hunched her shoulders not understanding why she felt so sad or why her cheeks were wet from the tears that had started to squeeze out from beneath her lashes.
She was doing for him what she had agreed to; she should be pleased that it was happening so quickly.
But she didn't know what was in it for her.
Or why her heart seemed to hurt so much.
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As her pregnancy progressed, Millicent wondered when that feeling of contentment and connection to the baby growing inside of her would become more prominent. It wasn't that she felt any sort of hate or malice toward the baby, but she wasn't sure if she was feeling anything at all. She was certain that Theodore had noticed and she'd often caught him giving her concerned looks, asking her if she was alright or if she needed anything. But she didn't know how to handle his concern and always forced a smile, told him she was fine and that she didn't need anything.
But she did. Millicent just didn't know what.
"I really am quite tired, Theodore," she said when they arrived at Malfoy Manor. Her entire body felt weary at the thought of yet another dinner where she had to smile and make nice with Draco and his fiancée when all she really wanted to do was climb into bed and sleep.
"We don't have to stay long," he answered and surprised her by putting a hand at the small of her back.
A well-dressed butler answered the door. The first time they'd visited the newly renovated manor, Millicent had been surprised to see a person doing the work of a house elf. But Draco had explained that he'd never been attached to the idea of house elves. Once the Malfoy vaults had been unfrozen—thanks to Granger, of all people, who railed against the sort of punishment the ministry was hoping to impose on most of the Slytherins—he'd taken on human servants as staff. Squibs, mostly, from the continent that had been looking for work in magical households.
Millicent nodded a greeting to the man and gave him her robe. She ran her hand over the more pronounced curve of her stomach, feeling twice as enormous as she'd ever been as a girl and followed Theodore to the sitting room.
"SURPRISE!"
To her very abject horror, the room was decorated profusely with pink and blue. Streamers and balloons hung from every wall and artfully from the ceiling. Millicent tried to take a step back but bumped into Theodore who'd come in behind her. She looked over her shoulder at him, eyes wide and mouth open. By the very unsurprised look on his face, she knew instantly that he'd known this was the plan and she had little escape. Sucking in a breath, she looked back at the group.
"Oh, I've wanted to do this ever since Theodore told Draco the good news," Astoria said with a happy clap, stepping forward to take Millicent's hands and pull her toward an ornate rocking chair to which a few balloons were tied.
Blaise stepped around one of the large piles of presents and held out a glass of wine to Theodore, clapping him on the shoulder. "First to tie the knot. First to pop out a sprog. It's not a race, mate," he said with a laugh.
The laugh caused Millicent to bristle slightly and she wrung her hands, not knowing what to do with them until Astoria started passing her gifts, waving off Millicent's mutterings of 'you really shouldn't have' each time she was given a sparkling bag full of tissue and baby clothes. She shot an almost pleading look to Astoria's older sister, but Daphne didn't pick up on it and continued her conversation with Mrs Malfoy. So with a resigned sigh, Millicent played along, telling herself that they had good intentions, that this was for the baby, that this was just like when Theodore's mum came over with some ancient Chinese gender chart and calculated that because of her age and when conception happened, they were predicted to have a boy.
About halfway through the party, Millicent realised that she was furious with Theodore.
She hadn't been prepared for any of this and she hated that she was the center of attention with everyone staring at her. She could only imagine what they were thinking behind their false smiles. Dumpy old Bulstrode. How had she managed to get a handsome husband like Theodore? And how did she manage to get him to touch her long enough to get pregnant?
And he had known. He had known this gathering was happening. He had known and he hadn't warned her.
"So have you and Theo decided on names?" Astoria asked, perching her tiny derriere on the chair next to Millicent's rocker. She held out a delicate china plate with a generous slice of Victoria sponge and a tiny fork.
"Not really," said Millicent, holding the plate but making no move to eat anything. Not in front of everyone else. "His mother asked that we consider something traditional."
Astoria pulled a face. "Draco said that constellations are usually a source of names for the Black side of the family, but I'm not sure if I like the idea of that." She reached out and patted Millicent's thigh. "Not that we're expecting, but in the future. After we get married."
Setting down the uneaten sponge, Millicent sought out Theodore's gaze then pushed herself up from the chair, teetering unsteadily. He raised his eyebrows and held out the glass of wine he'd been nursing since Blaise had handed it to him. The butler suddenly appeared, taking the glass and setting it on a tray before vanishing again. Theodore crossed the room to where she was standing, stepping over a large woven basket of baby toys.
"Please," she swallowed, torn between wanting to shout at him in front of everyone or break down into tears and cursing all the while at the hormones that were running rampant through her body. "I'd like to go home."
He gave a small nod and then looked around at their small group of friends. "We're going to have to call it a night," he said and then looked at Draco. "I'll send Trip over to collect all the things. Our thanks to you all for the lovely evening, but I think it's just been a bit tiring."
The group bid them goodbye and Millicent accepted their congratulations and the air kisses from both Daphne and Astoria. Once outside, Theodore apparated the pair of them back to the house in London, setting his wand on the table by the door before hanging his jacket in the front cupboard. Millicent slipped off her shoes and summoned a pair of slippers from the bedroom, dropping them on the floor so she wouldn't have to bend to put them on.
"I thought you would enjoy yourself," he said finally.
"To sit there like an enormous blob and be the center of everyone's attention? Oh yes," she said, sarcasm dripping from her lips. "It was so enjoyable." She wheeled on him. "You didn't even ask!"
Theodore took a step back. "It was a surprise party, Millicent. I wasn't meant to ask."
"I don't like surprises!"
"Well I didn't know that," he shot back.
"Of course you didn't. You don't know anything about me!" She started pulling pins out of her hair and dropping them on the floor. She hated having to put it up in some fancy updo for visits to the Malfoys.
"Because you barely talk to me!" Theodore threw his hands up. "We were doing okay and then you just put up this bloody great wall and now I don't know what to think!"
"Getting married a month after burying my father wasn’t 'doing okay', Theodore. Being lovelessly married and having sex wasn’t 'doing okay', Theodore. We were never 'doing okay'!"
"Then why did you marry me?!"
"I don't know!" she shouted back at him. "But now I'm pregnant and I'm already mucking up everything and I have no idea if I even know how to love this baby or if it's going to hate and resent me just as much as I hate and resent my own parents!" She drew in a shaking breath, wiping at the tears that had started to dribble down her cheeks. "Why on earth didn't you leave me when you had the chance to avoid this mess?!"
"Because I didn't want to!" Theodore's face was flushed with frustration. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths that were almost in time with her own and she wondered if perhaps he was holding back what he really wanted to say. But instead—and it shocked her truly—he closed the space between them, hand to the back of her neck, pulling her forward as his mouth collided with hers in an almost bruising kiss.
There was a split second where Millicent almost pushed him away, but the feeling lasted for only that split second before something inside of her cracked apart. The next thing she knew she had flung her arms around his shoulders, kissing him back as if her very life depended on it.
Perhaps it did. She wasn't sure.
His fingers slid up from her neck to the back of her head and somehow managed to find a couple of hairpins that she'd missed. He eased them out and tossed them to the side, letting her hair tumble down over her shoulders as he carded his fingers through the long waves. It had gotten so thick in the last few months and she actually was enjoying this one particular change in her body. Millicent sighed at the relaxing sensation of his fingertips moving through her hair and leaned closer, her hands bunching up the back of his shirt as she held onto him.
This was so different. It was like he was asking a question with his lips that her lips were answering in full detail, having a conversation that they couldn't quite manage to complete with words. And when his mouth pulled away from hers to press kisses down her neck, Millicent was taken aback by the sound that came out of her in protest. She wanted him to stop and to keep going at the same time and she knew it was conflicting but she didn't seem to care. What she did care about was that he'd somehow managed to undo the back of her dress and push it down until it had fallen to the floor, puddling around her feet. His fingers then danced along the cups of her bra before settling on the front clasp until it too had joined her dress.
A flush of embarrassment almost brought the moment to a close. She started to cross her arms across her breasts, but Theodore caught her forearms and gently pushed them back.
"Don't," he said quietly.
"They're all veiny and—"
He pressed his fingers to her lips and kissed her again before cradling one of her breasts with other hand. His thumb traced along one of the blue lines under her skin before leaning down to brush his lips over the same spot.
"I wish you would stop hating yourself," he murmured against her skin.
She closed her eyes briefly, a shiver running down her spine. Suddenly her fingers were making short work of the buttons on his shirt, tugging it from his trousers. When it was off, Millicent kissed him again, her arms winding around his neck and her breasts pressing against the warm skin of his chest. Somehow he managed to grab his wand from the little side table and the next thing she knew they were upstairs and she was on the bed and he was kissing her everywhere.
This was so different from all the times they'd had sex before and maybe it had something to do with them not having sex for months, but the intensity was almost overwhelming. It was electric, like a storm that had been building and building until it finally broke and raged overhead.
But despite the desperation and the need, he was gentle with her. He had to be. The swell of her pregnancy kept things from being entirely too frantic and yet he still managed to draw a moan out of her with every gentle touch and when he turned her slightly, lifting a leg so he could slide into her easily, she curled her fingers in the bedspread and bit her lip until she was sure it would bleed.
She thought that it was enough. That the heady sensation of him inside of her while she was feeling all these wonderfully good things was enough. But then he started to move and she was lost, her hands reaching for him and gripping his forearms, absolutely certain that she would fly apart at every joint.
In the end it was fireworks and shudders and all these pulsing sensations that were unlike any experience before and she was almost surprised at the strangled way he called out her name when he reached his own climax.
They said nothing after it was over, Theodore keeping his arms around her and pressed against her back. His hand ran back and forth over her belly and the baby made small movements inside of her, either content with the motion or irritated by the disturbance. Maybe they should have talked. Maybe if they'd spoken with each other the monsters of doubt would have been kept at bay.
Instead of creeping back under the door and settling in Millicent's heart once again.
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The sun hadn't risen when Millicent descended the staircase. She adjusted the bag over her shoulder and summoned her shoes to the bottom of the stairs as well as flicking her wand at the bell pull. Trip popped into view as she shoved her feet into the shoes, wincing slightly at the pinchy feeling and cast a small extendable charm on them to make them more comfortable. Holding out the bag to the house elf, Millicent pulled an envelope from the pocket of her robe with Theodore's name written on the front. She set it on the table by the coat cupboard.
"Mistress, why are you up so early? Would you like breakfast already?" Trip asked, looking worried and tugging at his wide ears.
"I need you to take me to Norfolk," she said, not answering his question.
"Master Theodore should be the one to take you places, Mistress. Trip will be in trouble if he takes you without letting him know."
She pointed at the letter on the table and tried not to feel terrible about the woebegone look on Trip's face; he truly did love Theodore. "I've told him not to punish you. But I can summon the Knight Bus if you are concerned."
The elf's eyes widened. "Oh no, Mistress! Trip could never not do something that Mistress has asked of him." He clutched at her bag and held out his tiny hand to her.
Millicent swallowed down the lump in her throat and took the tiny elf's hand and the next thing she knew she was standing on the front step of the Bulstrode Manor in Norfolk. The sky to the east had just started to lighten and while she didn't normally visit unannounced these days, Millicent knew that the Bulstrode elves would not turn her away. She turned to Trip who was still clutching her bag looking as if he was desperately wishing she'd tell him that she'd changed her mind.
She held out her hand and took the bag from him. "Thank you, that will be all," she said.
The elf gave a little moan of sadness before vanishing and Millicent let herself into the house, the spells on the door still recognising her touch as a proper member of the family.
Inside, the house was silent and dark. Millicent ran her hand lightly over the curve of her stomach and then reached out to touch one of the large portraits hanging on the wall. The image of her grandfather snorted in its slumber and turned over. Millicent had an urge to prod at him and show him her wedding ring and the baby she was expecting. The old codger had always said she would never have either in her life and she truly did want to prove him wrong. But she held herself back and continued on to the sitting room.
It should have been surprising to find Eunice in her chair in the dark room, but Millicent wasn't taken aback. The old woman had always the sort to rise before the sun, grumbling about people being layabouts. She set down the cup of tea she had been sipping and gave Millicent a look, eyes stopping once at her belly before sniffing. She gestured to the sofa and Millicent took a seat, putting her bag on the floor at her feet. It promptly disappeared and she knew it would be up in her old bedroom.
"So has he tossed you out?" she asked, signalling for an elf. The timid looking creature filled a cup with weak tea and set it in front of Millicent.
Millicent pressed her lips together and sucked in a breath through her nose. She would not get angry at the old woman. She would not give her the satisfaction. "No, I came to see you for a bit, Auntie."
"A bit," Eunice said, grey eyebrows raised. "Hmmm."
'A bit' eventually turned into a week, which eventually turned into two. Millicent did things around the house and kept the old woman company. Mostly that involved reading from books that never seemed to make her aunt very happy or wheeling Eunice into different rooms depending on the time of day or the brightness of the sun. It wasn't a comfortable routine and Millicent found the days seemed to drag on unhappily. Her back would not stop aching and she couldn't sleep more than a few hours before the baby was shifting and turning and jostling her awake.
The letters started once a month had passed.
All of them were addressed to her and all of them in Theodore's scrawling handwriting. She didn't read them, but wrote back once to say she was fine, the baby was fine, and she still needed more time.
On the first of June, one of the house elves appeared at the bench by Millicent's mother's jonquil covered grave. Millicent had taken to spending afternoons, when Eunice was sleeping, to visit her mother. Sometimes she cried. Sometimes she railed against the dead woman for having left her. Sometimes she told stories of the things that had happened at school. She'd specifically asked not to be bothered when she was there and hearing the elf call out 'mistress' caused a frown to appear on her face. She turned, fully prepared to scold the elf, but stopped when she saw who was standing behind the little creature. Her mouth fell open.
"My god, Millicent," Pansy said, stepping past the elf and waving at it dismissively before taking a seat next on the bench. "Look at you."
"Wait... how..." Millicent gave her head a bit of a shake. "How did you get here?"
Pansy reached over and patted Millicent's round stomach. Normally she didn't care for people touching her without asking, but she was so taken aback by Pansy being there that she didn't protest. The other woman looked almost exactly the same as she had when they were in school. It was the same dark hair, only a bit longer, cut in a sharp bob that accentuated her cheekbones. Millicent had considered mimicking the style once when she was twelve, but her father had refused to allow her.
"Your husband told me where you were," Pansy said, leaning down to pluck at a blade of grass. "Though I'm really quite put out. A wedding and a baby and you didn't even send me a letter?"
Millicent looked at Pansy for a long moment, still truly in shock that the other woman was sitting beside her. And then promptly burst into tears.
Covering her face with her hands, her shoulders shook and the sobs seemed to come from deeper than she was expecting. Sharp, ugly sobs and she tried to explain, but it all came out in a blubbering mess. She was ruining Theodore's life. She was potentially ruining this baby's life. She didn't have a mother; she didn't know how to be a mother or how to love anything. What right did she have sentencing this baby to a life like that? It would be a miserable life, just like her own.
"Oh, Millicent," Pansy said, patting her on the shoulder. "You're such an idiot." She held up her hand before Millicent could respond. "You both are and I've already told Theodore as much."
"He had no idea what it would be like," Millicent said, almost defensively.
"No, he didn't," Pansy replied. "I'm pretty sure that's why he owled me."
"He owled you?"
"Of course he did," Pansy said. "You ran away, while pregnant, and refused to come home. I mean, I know why you did it, but Theodore is never going to understand. He didn't grow up like you and I did."
Millicent flushed. Pansy was right. And perhaps it wasn't the entire root of the problem, but it must have been a large factor. Theodore's family was so different from hers. Although she was a little overbearing and sometimes they argued angrily in Chinese, Millicent could always tell that Theodore's mum loved her son and his father was often carrying on long conversations with him about business and profit and even quidditch. Pansy had only been fortunate in that she'd grown up with two distant and unloving parents rather than one as Millicent had. But that was why they had matched so well at Hogwarts, their similar upbringings. They knew the sting of cold letters and empty holidays and eating their meals with the elves watching instead of with the family.
"He must hate me," Millicent said mournfully.
"He doesn't..." Pansy said in an uncharacteristically soothing tone.
Her words trailed off though at the sound coming from the grounds behind them. With a curse under her breath, Pansy got to her feet. Millicent turned and saw Theodore trying to move with two elves wrapped around his legs in an attempt to hold him back. She looked up at Pansy who was pinching her nose.
"I told you to wait," she said.
He shot her a dark look. "I'm through with waiting. She is my wife and I want to talk to her."
"Theodore," Pansy stepped around the bench. "This was not what we discussed and you know it. Let me spend some time with her first and then we—"
"It's alright, Pansy," Millicent said, not wanting to be talked about as if she wasn't there. She shifted uncomfortably and pressed a hand to the small of her back, trying to work out the ache that was constantly wrapping itself around her spine these days. "Theodore and I should talk."
Pansy shot Theodore a bit of a scowl and then turned her attention back to her. "Just call for me if you need me to drag him home."
She couldn't help but smile. "I will, Pansy. Thank you."
Once the other woman had left—taking the elves that had been holding Theodore back away with her—Millicent shifted on the bench and attempted to stand. She felt his warm hand touch her shoulder and stopped moving. He slowly came around the back of the bench and took a seat beside her. Millicent looked over and blinked in surprise at how awful he looked. It was obvious by the dark circles under his eyes and the pallor of his skin that he hadn't been sleeping. Her heart squeezed painfully as the guilt settled inside of her. She'd done that to him. Just another thing on a long list of reasons why she was not a good match for him.
That still didn't stop her from reaching out and touching his stubbled cheek.
"I'm sor—"
"Am I really that terrible to be married to?" he asked, interrupting her and she almost gasped at the worry and hurt that seemed to be pouring out of the expression on his face.
"It's not that," she said, dropping her gaze to the ground.
"Then what is it?" He ran a hand through his dark hair, parts of it sticking up in places. "Because I just don't understand why you'd rather come and live here with your grouchy aunt instead of staying with me in London and, I know that Pansy says that it isn't, but I keep coming back to the thought that there is something truly terrible about being married to me."
Millicent drew in a breath, using the heel of her hand to wipe away the tears that she thought would never end. There was a movement and she watched as he pressed a small white handkerchief to her palm. She curled her fingers tightly around the fabric and pressed it first to one eye and then the other.
"It isn't terrible," she said finally. "You've been good to me. More than I deserve." She looked over at him sadly. "I just don't think I'm good enough for you. Anyone really." She rested her hand on her stomach, feeling her heart ache.
"Do you think our child is going to hate you?"
She shrugged. "I can't imagine that it would love me very much. Look at what I've done to it, and you, already."
"What you've done..." He let out a dry, almost exasperated, laugh. "Millicent, the only thing you've done is drive me mad with not seeing how much I actually love you." He reached out and took her hand, surprising her by lacing his fingers with hers.
Her heart gave a little lurch and she stared at him, her eyes wide, blurting out, "But why on earth would you?"
"How could I not?"
It was like she was watching it happen to someone else. Someone who looked just like her. Someone who couldn't be her. He held her hand and he began to talk and at every small protest, he squeezed her fingers. He spoke of how he'd watched her the day she'd buried her father, how he hadn't decided that he was going to suggest this idea of marrying her at first but had changed his mind when he'd seen her. He spoke of her strength. He spoke of things she hadn't even realised she was doing, how his mother was glad he'd chosen her, how he was glad that he'd chosen her.
"But I'm such a mess," she said weakly.
"You're not. I don't know who it was who convinced you that you're not worth loving, Millicent. I suspect it was your father and if he wasn't already dead...."
"You love me." She said it once and the words had such an unfamiliar feeling in her mouth.
"I love you," he said, touching her chin and turning her face towards his. "Please come home."
She drew in a breath and then after a moment shook her head. "I can't."
"But why?" The hurt in his face broke her heart.
Millicent bit her lip. "Because I think my water just broke.... You need to take me to St Mungo's."
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It turned out, as Millicent looked down at the tiny boy she held in her arms, that ancient Chinese prediction charts were surprisingly accurate.
When Theodore's mother had come to them months ago with her baby prediction, Millicent had taken the whole notion with a grain of salt. But she'd been wrong. She'd been so wrong and she was certain that she was never going to question the other woman ever again.
Labour had been hard. She'd never imagined just how hard it would be. Yet, once it was over and the tiny squall filled the room, all the effort and pain that had proceeded it seemed to fade into a memory. Suddenly she couldn't imagine that it had ever been difficult at all and when she mumbled as much, not really directing her words at anyone in particular, the mediwich who was tending to her said something about how all women forgot when they held their child for the first time.
She'd never felt anything like this.
"I'm not sad," she said, using her free hand to wipe at her eyes. "Why am I crying?"
She looked over at Theodore who had managed to perch himself on the edge of her bed, sitting as close to her as he dared. To her surprise she could see tracks of tears on his cheeks. She reached up and ran her finger along one of the wet lines. A smile spread across his face and he turned into her touch, kissing her fingertips as they passed over his lips.
"If I ever figure it out myself, I'll let you know," he said, sniffling slightly and Millicent wished she had a handkerchief she could pass to him, returning the gesture he'd made earlier in the day.
Returning her gaze to the baby, she traced her finger over his tiny nose. It was a little wide set and she suspected it would be a Bulstrode feature once he was grown. His little lashes peeked out from under eyes that were a bit hooded and she smiled because they looked just like Theodore's. She wondered if he would have the same intense dark eyes of her husband or if he'd grow into the golden-green hazel of her own. This little boy was a perfect blend of the pair of them and she was shocked at how fiercely she felt toward him already.
"I love him so much," she said, almost astonished. "I love him. Is this what love feels like? I would die for him. Am I allowed to love him this much?"
She felt Theodore shift and press a kiss to her temple, the wispy curls still damp. "Yes. And you are."
Millicent drew in a breath, turning her head and her nose bumped against his. She bit the edge of her lip nervously. "You too," she said quietly. "I love you too."
His eyes crinkled slightly and she knew he was smiling. "Half an hour ago you were threatening to hang, draw and quarter me."
"Was I? I don't remember that."
"The threats were quite colourful. I didn't actually know you know that many types of medieval torture techniques." Millicent rolled her eyes. "I had look passable in front of the Carrows... so I did my reading."
But rather than let old memories of that awful last year of school float around between them, Millicent returned her attention to the small bundle in her arms. Her heart swelled exponentially at the way the little boy yawned and held her breath, afraid of interrupting it. She felt Theodore lightly stroking her hair and closed her eyes. "We never talked about names," she said after a long moment.
"What about your fath—"
"We are not naming our son Humphrey," she said, cutting him off before he could even finish asking the question. "And not Archibald either."
She just couldn't imagine this beautiful little boy to be shackled to such a name. But her mind was coming up blank. She hadn't spent the last few months pouring over baby name books or talking names with other women. She knew that Theodore's mother was hoping they would incorporate something traditional, but Millicent wasn't confident that she would not botch up a proper Chinese name. Scrunching up her nose, Millicent tried to imagine this little boy older, with a name he would always enjoy, a name that he wouldn't mind if people shortened it or that she wouldn't mind if people shortened it.
Theodore kissed her temple. "I wasn't going to suggest my father's first name. But his second name is Alexander. A little more palatable."
"Alexander..." Millicent breathed, tracing her finger over the little boy's plump cheek. "But what about your mother? She asked about his Chinese name..."
"And we should pick a name that pleases us first... and if that name isn't Chinese, my mother will have to come to terms with that."
"Does Alexander please you?" she asked, still not sure.
She thought about some of the boy names she knew. There weren't many outside of those she went to school with and she really didn't want to name their baby after one of their school mates. Though she had considered Vincent at one point, months ago. Crabbe hadn't been so terrible in the beginning, before everything had gone to shit in their lives, but it was a name that carried too much baggage and she couldn't see herself saddling this small child with that sort of history. The little boy in her arms opened his eyes and stared at her.
A name popped into her head. From a long ago book that had once belonged to her mother. About a boy and his bear.
It was a name that could be theirs. Not her family's. Not his.
"Theodore... what about the name Christopher? He could be a Christopher. Couldn't he?"
"He could," Theodore said, running his hand over the baby's head, smoothing back the wisps of dark hair. "I like it."
"Christopher," Millicent said with an assured tone, lifting the little boy up and kissing his forehead. She then turned and leaned closer to Theodore, pressing a kiss to his lips as well.
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"Hold still, Millicent. Just a few more." Pansy slid another hairpin into Millicent's hair, twisting one of the small plaits she'd woven into the twist at the back of her head.
Christopher sat on the floor, throwing blocks across the room until Theodore's mother swept into the room and carried him off, all tickles and laughter. Probably to spoil him with egg tarts, Millicent thought as she smoothed down the soft white robes sprinkled with embroidered jonquils around the hem. Pansy finished with the hairdo and cast a holding charm on it, twisting one long loose curl around her finger until it rested artfully on Millicent's shoulder.
"Do you think it's silly that we're doing this?" she asked, glancing at the other witch in the mirror and watched Pansy straighten the rather form fitting pink robes she'd chosen to wear.
"Well, you're already married with a child... a second wedding?" She shook her head and gave Millicent a wry smile. "I get to be maid of honour, so I don't think it's silly at all. It would have been another story entirely if you'd had Astoria stand up with you."
"Even though you're Christopher's godmother?"
Pansy laughed and dotted some lipstick on her lower lip, spreading it with her finger so that it just barely coloured her mouth. "Even that. Being his godmother doesn't give me an excuse to wear new robes. A second wedding does."
They left the room and joined the others down in the garden behind Theodore's parent's home in Kent. When he'd asked her to marry him, the second time, she hadn't thought he was serious. But he'd explained that this was a wedding for her. Not for him. She'd not made any demands of him the first time they'd gotten married and he wanted her to have a say, to have her own day, without making concessions to his mother or his traditions.
"Are you ready?" Pansy asked, hand on one of the French doors that led out to the garden.
"I am," she said, lightly clutching the bunch of yellow flowers that she'd asked to be brought from the Bulstrode estate.
It was different this time. She certainly didn't feel as she had two years prior, dressed in red and pouring tea for her mother in law. The hot August sun shone down on the gathering of people, cooling charms keeping the garden tolerable. Millicent's thoughts drifted back over the last year and how she'd changed and how surprising the strength of her feelings were for both Theodore and Christopher.
She smiled when he turned and flushed when his mouth opened slightly as he took her in. He made her feel beautiful and he made her feel loved and she'd never in her life known that she could feel this way.
"Hey," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, as she took his hand.
He smiled. "Hey."
The details of the rest of the ceremony were a blur. She said words and whether they made sense, she didn't know. And it didn't matter what he was saying because it was how he looked at her that mattered. They'd given each other the rings from their first wedding and, in turn, returned them to the appropriate fingers. This wedding felt more real than the first and she couldn't stop the few happy tears that rolled down her cheeks, laughing when he held out a pristine white handkerchief to her.
After their kiss and after others had cheered, Theodore leaned close.
"Are you glad you married me?" he asked.
"Which time?" she countered with a smile.
"Both."
Millicent nodded and looked toward Theodore's mum who was dandling Christopher on her knee. "Yes. Yes, I'm very glad."
"Because of Christopher?"
She shook her head and reached up, grasping the front of his dress robes, tugging him down for another kiss. Another round of applause broke out from the guests and breaking the kiss, Millicent leaned close to his ear.
"Because of you. Because you made me feel worth loving. Because of Christopher. Because he showed me I could love." Her hand found his and she brought it to rest on her stomach. "And because in seven months this one gets to show me just how much I can love."
Theodore's eyes went wide. "Wait... really?"
She nodded. "The healers confirmed it yesterday."
He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly. "I love you, Millicent," he said, his voice thick and she wondered if there were tears in his eyes.
"I should hope so," she said thoughtfully. "You did marry me twice."
And if he asked her, she would do it again and again.
Author/Artist:
Pairing(s): Theodore Nott/Millicent Bulstrode
Prompt: # H8
Summary: Marriage and a baby. That was the deal. Love wasn't something she expected to want. Or give. Did she even know how?
Word Count: 9800ish
Rating: R
Warnings/Contains: none
Notes: Thank you
rosevalleynb for your lovely prompt. I hope I did it justice because the characters went their own merry way and reeling them back in was a challenge (but in a good way). Extra special thank-yous to my wonderful beta L for putting up with me signing up for another fest. ;)Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
It was fitting that the rain started to fall the moment they began to lower her father into the ground. Millicent Bulstrode turned her face toward the sky and let the raindrops hit her face before looking at the polished wood of the casket. At least it looked like she was crying now and her wheelchair-bound Great Auntie Eunice, her father's aunt, would stop glowering at her and muttering about how ungrateful she was and that it was no wonder that both her parents had chosen an early grave.
Nevermind that her mother had died after contracting Dragon Pox when she was three. Or that her father had lost the ability to fight off the despair in Azkaban after the war.
Neither had been a choice, Millicent thought bitterly, wondering if perhaps her life would have been different if both had survived.
Swiping at a drop of water that hung from her nose, she stepped back to allow the house elves to wheel the old woman back to the house. Millicent remained at the family plot, glancing toward a white tombstone that headed a grave which was decorated with jonquils. It was too late in the year for them, but the happy, yellow flowers magically bloomed all year round. They'd been planted after the first snow had melted following her mother's death. It was the one nice thing that she could ever remember her father doing and was possibly the only thing she could remember being thankful that he did.
A shadow passed over her head and she looked up to see a large, black umbrella shielding her from the rain. Turning, Millicent was surprised to see Theodore Nott standing behind her.
The last time she'd seen Theodore had been just after the Slytherin Students had evacuated to the Hog's Head Inn. She didn't know if he'd scarpered off to join some of the other foolish students who'd gone back to fight—and in Vince's case, die—with the others, or find his own father. After the battle there hadn't been news of his father going to trial or being imprisoned. How the Notts had managed to avoid punishment, she didn't know. Most everyone she knew had either had their name dragged through the mud or had family members sent to Azkaban. Not Theodore, though. Millicent could feel a frown tugging at her lips as she looked at him. Maybe there was a little bit of residual resentment still hanging around.
"I heard your father was being buried today," he said, pushing dark hair out of his eyes. "My condolences."
Millicent snorted a dry laugh, turning away from the grave and facing him. "I'm not certain if my father or I deserve anyone's condolences."
He gave a curt nod, glancing over her shoulder at the hole where her father lay. Millicent didn't follow his gaze, wincing slightly at the hollow thump that the shovelfuls of dirt made as they hit the casket. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her long black cloak, balling them into fists. She didn't want to go back to the house and spend even more time with her ailing aunt. She didn't want to start having "the conversation" about what she was to do with the estate or the vaults or her duties to care for Eunice in her advanced age.
Millicent drew in a breath and opened her mouth.
"Join me for a drink?" Theodore asked before she could request the same thing.
"You're mad." She finished off the glass of prosecco, signalling to the server for another. "Completely starkers."
Theodore tilted his head, eying her, a motion that used to infuriate her when in school as if he was internally rolling his eyes at her reaction. He reached for the small glass of scotch that he'd been sipping and ran an index finger around the mouth of it and they sat in a less than comfortable silence until the server showed up with her second glass. Millicent reached for it, taking a large gulp and coughing at the fizzy bubbles catching in her throat.
"It's not that mad," Theodore said with an almost elegant shrug that she'd never been able to mimic.
"Theodore, we haven't spoken to each other since Hogwarts. We barely spoke to each other at Hogwarts and you're now suggesting that we get married. You. Marry me."
"That's exactly what I'm suggesting."
There had to be a catch. She half expected Blaise and Greg or even Draco to jump out and start laughing at the prank. It had to be a prank. There was no possible way that someone like Theodore would ever consider marrying someone like her. He was her complete opposite. He was tall and refined and almost ageless. His height had been inherited from his father, but everything else—his smooth skin, angled eyes and cheekbones that she was certain would cut glass—had been from his mother and her family.
Millicent knew she wasn't stunning like Daphne or Tracey and while a later growth spurt in fifth year had given her some extra height to even out the weight, she'd never managed the slinky, willowy silhouette of the other girls. She had hips. She had breasts. She had the sort of figure that, even when she spent an entire week eating only celery which caused her to nearly faint in the middle of Astronomy Class, just held onto the curves. She was not the sort of girl the likes of Theodore Nott or Blaise Zabini went for.
Theodore lifted a napkin and daubed at the corner of his mouth. "I just need a wife... and an heir. I'd rather it be with someone that I know than a complete stranger my mother and some matchmaker back in Shenzhen have arranged for me."
She opened her mouth to ask. Why her? Why not someone else? He knew a number of girls from their year and could probably have any pick of them. But then she realised that maybe they were distancing themselves from the typical Slytherin pureblood matches. She'd heard that Daphne had turned down Draco and was seeing some young wizard she'd met through mutual friends in France. She'd heard that her sister hadn't been so picky. Pansy had left England for America and she'd not heard anything of the other witch since. Maybe that was the reason he was coming to her. She was all that was left.
She ought to be furious about becoming someone's last resort.
Maybe he was hoping she would say no.
But then her Auntie Eunice's voice hissed through her head, saying things about how she'd never amount to anything of which any normal pureblood would be proud. She looked at Theodore and tried to read his expression. There didn't appear to be any malice behind his eyes. She sighed. The thought of going home to spend the rest of her days in an empty house filled with bad memories and a reminder that she really wasn't worth sticking around filled her with discomfort.
Millicent picked up her glass, suddenly and held it out to him. "Fine," she said, waiting for him to tap his glass against hers. "I'll marry you, then."
When she'd pictured her wedding, Millicent had always drawn a blank. She'd never imagined anything for herself because she'd never had a boy show interest in her long enough for her to become attached. Even when she was small and visiting the Parkinson manor to play with Daphne and Pansy, it had always been the other girls pulling the lace curtains down from Pansy's windows and tucking them into their skirts to make long trains. Millicent occasionally would wear a circlet of flowers and carry the train behind them, but she was always the flower girl or the maid of honour. Never the imagined bride. Never the one marrying the fantasy boy.
So the short ceremony at the Ministry and the paperwork they signed didn't break her heart.
She'd never had the dream, so it was never dashed.
There had been a few complaints at first. All of them from Theodore's mother. Not in his choice of bride, but the speed at which the wedding took place. Millicent didn't understand the arguments between Theodore and his mother because the pair spoke rapidly in Chinese, but she knew that disapproving sniff. Later he had explained that there were a number of cultural traditions they were leaving out that his mother was concerned about.
"She thinks we are setting ourselves up for bad fortune," he'd said. "I tried to tell her that we weren't interested in an extravagant ceremony or exchanging betrothal gifts or all the other little ceremonies. She's not happy about that."
"So let's include some," she'd suggested, realizing that it would be a much easier life if Theodore's mother didn't blame her for his choices. "I don't have any special requests. So it wouldn't hurt to let her..."
In the end they allowed his mother to set the date—the 16th based on their mutual lucky numbers and the fact that it was made up of two eighths—and arrange the matrimonial bed. Millicent didn't know what the latter entailed, nor did she know all the proper etiquette of the tea ceremony that they had also agreed to perform, but in the end the papers were signed and the tea was served, Millicent making sure to follow the whispered instructions from Theodore until it was over.
And then they were married.
It ended with food. Plates upon plates of dishes that Millicent didn't recognise and some that she did. It was too much for such a small gathering of people and Auntie Eunice complained under her breath about Millicent's wasteful nature and how strange it all was. Millicent kept quiet and served her aunt the plainest of bread and clearest of soup until the old woman had enough and proclaimed she was returning to the house. An elf took her home to the Mungo's nurse that had been hired to care for her and soon after Theodore's parents departed. They were now alone in the large Chelsea townhouse that had been a wedding gift from his parents.
He pointed his wand at a large rope on the wall and somewhere in the lower level of the house a bell must have jangled because soon the plates were clearing themselves and the candles began to snuff. His elves were very efficient.
Millicent searched her head for something to say. Something that would break the thick silence that had ballooned between them. She looked at her new husband, trying to read his expression and wondered if he was regretting any of this.
Theodore's eyes met hers and he gestured lightly toward the stairs. "Shall we?"
Quite suddenly Millicent was surprised to find that nervous butterflies had taken up residence in her stomach. Planning a wedding on such short notice had consumed them both and she'd almost forgotten the other part of his reason for marrying her. But now that the wedding was over and they were alone, the second half of the arrangement was looming over her in a way that she wasn't sure she was ready for.
He paused and glanced at her. "I've never forced a woman... if you're not..."
Millicent flushed and shook her head. She did not want to give him a reason to complain about her to his friends. "No, it's fine," she said hastily and set her jaw, taking the lead and climbing the stairs.
Sex with Theodore was not unsatisfying. Millicent didn't have anything beyond what she'd done on her own to compare it to and every time they'd been together he had been good at making sure that she came before he did. So there was that. But there was something missing and even her lack of experience said there was something missing. He always managed to make sure she was ready. It was never painful and he always seemed to find his own satisfaction in the end. But there was a disconnect. Like they were just going through the motions even if they both reached climax in the end.
He rarely looked at her. He barely kissed her.
And when it was over, they didn't embrace each other in the afterglow. They just finished, rolled over and went to sleep.
"You look tired," Astoria gushed, sipping from a cup of tea that she'd taken great pains to cradle in a way that showed off the giant ring that Draco had given her a few weeks back.
Millicent saw the other witch more often these days. Three months into her marriage with Theodore and she'd come to learn that Draco was almost like a brother to her husband, which she had somehow never realised during their years at school. It made socialising with both him and Astoria a common occurrence and Millicent didn't say as much but she was starting to find it exhausting. Astoria was not the sort of witch Millicent ever really befriended in school and she found her personality to be a bit soft. Like porridge.
And it made Millicent miss Pansy terribly.
Astoria gave Millicent a sly look. "Theo must be wearing you out at night."
Millicent bristled at the shortening of her husband's name and almost shot the other woman a glowering look. She'd never liked when people assumed that 'Millie' was an acceptable way to address her and she found that she didn't like people calling him Theo instead of Theodore either. But starting up an argument with the younger witch who was now engaged to Theodore's best friend was not the best idea, so she kept her mouth shut and shrugged. She wished Pansy was here.
"I feel the same as always," she said and reached for the plate of chocolate digestives.
It wasn't true though. She'd been out of sorts all week and unable to get through the day without an afternoon nap, of which the tea with Astoria was very much interrupting. Her stomach had been in knots since the previous evening and she wondered if there had been something wrong with the pasta they'd had for supper. Millicent nibbled on the digestive and couldn't stop the disgusted look from crossing her face, the dry crumbs sticking to her tongue and the dark chocolate making her mouth feel strange. She set down the biscuit and her teacup, pushing both away.
"Oh Millie, you look positively green," Astoria said, pushing her lip out in a little pout. "Are you sure you're not coming down with something?"
"Millicent," she said under her breath before sitting back in her seat. She forced a smile and reached for her wand, pointing it at the bell pull. Moments later a house elf appeared. "Trip, I've just remembered that I need to travel up to Norfolk to see my Aunt before she leaves for her annual winter stay in Majorca. Would you help Astoria gather her things?" She looked across the settee at the other woman. "I'm sorry. I should have remembered before you came all this way."
Once Astoria was gone, Millicent went up to the bedroom to change her clothes. The dark trousers and patternless blouse would probably get some sort of disparaging comment from Auntie Eunice, but her attention wouldn't remain very long with little to pick at. Or so Millicent hoped. Before leaving, she wrote a short note and left it on a table in the front hall for Theodore to read when he got home from work. She would stay for supper, possibly overnight, to not wait up for her.
And then she left.
"I don't like this story. Find another," Eunice said, picking at her plate.
Millicent closed the book and set it aside. "Do you have any requests, Auntie?"
"None that you can find in this house. Your father didn't have a vast collection... oh just read the one we've been reading. I'll find something better once I've gotten to the house in Majorca." The older woman set her steely gaze on the plate of food in front of Millicent, peas pushed around on the plate to look as if they'd been eaten and a half cut apart chicken breast. "You haven't gotten the foolish notion in your head to diet, have you?"
Millicent shook her head and flipped a page in the book. "No diet. I just don't feel well. Do you want me to reread chapter four? You enjoyed that chapter the last time I was here."
Eunice raised a forkful of chicken to her mouth. "Good," she said, ignoring Millicent's question. "Dieting isn't good for the baby."
Her finger stilled on the page and Millicent looked at her aunt. The old woman had a smug expression on her face and continued to chew her chicken noisily, her teeth clicking behind her lips. Dropping her hand away from the book, Millicent watched as the pages flipped, losing her place and she flattened her hand against her abdomen. Hadn't she just had her period? Or had that been last month? She couldn't remember and her mind was a bit of a fog.
"Your mother used to get the same look on her face with you. She disliked every bit of food in the first few months." Eunice paused. "You hadn't guessed?"
"No..." Millicent said quietly. "I thought it would take longer..."
Setting her knife and fork in an X on her plate, Eunice rang a little hand bell on the table. The plate disappeared and the Bulstrode family elf appeared. "Take Millicent to St. Mungo's. She shouldn't be apparating on her own."
This side of Eunice, the almost caring and doting maternal figure, was unfamiliar to Millicent and very disconcerting. She'd spent so much time hearing all the snide remarks from the old woman that it almost felt as if some stranger had polyjuiced into her aunt without researching how to act like her. But she said nothing. Instead she bid her aunt a safe trip for the winter and let the elf take her away.
At St Mungo's she had Eunice's diagnosis confirmed.
It didn't feel real.
Of course it made sense, logically. She was married. She had sex with her husband on a decently regular schedule. Not once had they used any sort of protection spells or potions and Theodore had made no secret about his desire to have a child through their marriage. But for some reason she hadn't thought it would happen. For some reason she'd thought one day she'd wake up and he'd realise that marrying Millicent Bulstrode had been a mistake and suggest that they part ways.
"Trip says you went to Norfolk to see your aunt off for the winter?" Theodore asked, walking into the room. "Is she well?"
Millicent had been sitting on the edge of the bed and wasn't surprised that he was just now getting home. "She's still the same Eunice. I did leave a note in case I was longer than expected."
Breathing deeply, she slipped out of her slippers and settled into the bed. She watched briefly as Theodore started to undress before he disappeared into the adjacent dressing room. When he returned, he wore a robe and her gaze drifted down to his bare legs before he pulled back the covers. Soon the robe was discarded and while she'd never felt uncomfortable by his nakedness before, Millicent shifted uneasily catching his hand by the wrist before he was able to touch her.
"You don't have to anymore," she said deciding it was best to let him off the hook.
"Have to..."
"Eunice made me go to St Mungo's after supper. The healers confirmed it. They said I'll have the baby in the middle of June sometime. So we really don't need to keep trying. Isn't that a relief?" Millicent turned on her side. "I'm quite tired though; I think I'll go to sleep."
Pulling the dark red blanket up over her shoulder and pressing her face into the pillow, Millicent squeezed her eyes shut. After a moment, she heard Theodore stoop to pick up his robe and then the soft opening and shutting of the door. There was a pinch somewhere in her chest and she hunched her shoulders not understanding why she felt so sad or why her cheeks were wet from the tears that had started to squeeze out from beneath her lashes.
She was doing for him what she had agreed to; she should be pleased that it was happening so quickly.
But she didn't know what was in it for her.
Or why her heart seemed to hurt so much.
As her pregnancy progressed, Millicent wondered when that feeling of contentment and connection to the baby growing inside of her would become more prominent. It wasn't that she felt any sort of hate or malice toward the baby, but she wasn't sure if she was feeling anything at all. She was certain that Theodore had noticed and she'd often caught him giving her concerned looks, asking her if she was alright or if she needed anything. But she didn't know how to handle his concern and always forced a smile, told him she was fine and that she didn't need anything.
But she did. Millicent just didn't know what.
"I really am quite tired, Theodore," she said when they arrived at Malfoy Manor. Her entire body felt weary at the thought of yet another dinner where she had to smile and make nice with Draco and his fiancée when all she really wanted to do was climb into bed and sleep.
"We don't have to stay long," he answered and surprised her by putting a hand at the small of her back.
A well-dressed butler answered the door. The first time they'd visited the newly renovated manor, Millicent had been surprised to see a person doing the work of a house elf. But Draco had explained that he'd never been attached to the idea of house elves. Once the Malfoy vaults had been unfrozen—thanks to Granger, of all people, who railed against the sort of punishment the ministry was hoping to impose on most of the Slytherins—he'd taken on human servants as staff. Squibs, mostly, from the continent that had been looking for work in magical households.
Millicent nodded a greeting to the man and gave him her robe. She ran her hand over the more pronounced curve of her stomach, feeling twice as enormous as she'd ever been as a girl and followed Theodore to the sitting room.
"SURPRISE!"
To her very abject horror, the room was decorated profusely with pink and blue. Streamers and balloons hung from every wall and artfully from the ceiling. Millicent tried to take a step back but bumped into Theodore who'd come in behind her. She looked over her shoulder at him, eyes wide and mouth open. By the very unsurprised look on his face, she knew instantly that he'd known this was the plan and she had little escape. Sucking in a breath, she looked back at the group.
"Oh, I've wanted to do this ever since Theodore told Draco the good news," Astoria said with a happy clap, stepping forward to take Millicent's hands and pull her toward an ornate rocking chair to which a few balloons were tied.
Blaise stepped around one of the large piles of presents and held out a glass of wine to Theodore, clapping him on the shoulder. "First to tie the knot. First to pop out a sprog. It's not a race, mate," he said with a laugh.
The laugh caused Millicent to bristle slightly and she wrung her hands, not knowing what to do with them until Astoria started passing her gifts, waving off Millicent's mutterings of 'you really shouldn't have' each time she was given a sparkling bag full of tissue and baby clothes. She shot an almost pleading look to Astoria's older sister, but Daphne didn't pick up on it and continued her conversation with Mrs Malfoy. So with a resigned sigh, Millicent played along, telling herself that they had good intentions, that this was for the baby, that this was just like when Theodore's mum came over with some ancient Chinese gender chart and calculated that because of her age and when conception happened, they were predicted to have a boy.
About halfway through the party, Millicent realised that she was furious with Theodore.
She hadn't been prepared for any of this and she hated that she was the center of attention with everyone staring at her. She could only imagine what they were thinking behind their false smiles. Dumpy old Bulstrode. How had she managed to get a handsome husband like Theodore? And how did she manage to get him to touch her long enough to get pregnant?
And he had known. He had known this gathering was happening. He had known and he hadn't warned her.
"So have you and Theo decided on names?" Astoria asked, perching her tiny derriere on the chair next to Millicent's rocker. She held out a delicate china plate with a generous slice of Victoria sponge and a tiny fork.
"Not really," said Millicent, holding the plate but making no move to eat anything. Not in front of everyone else. "His mother asked that we consider something traditional."
Astoria pulled a face. "Draco said that constellations are usually a source of names for the Black side of the family, but I'm not sure if I like the idea of that." She reached out and patted Millicent's thigh. "Not that we're expecting, but in the future. After we get married."
Setting down the uneaten sponge, Millicent sought out Theodore's gaze then pushed herself up from the chair, teetering unsteadily. He raised his eyebrows and held out the glass of wine he'd been nursing since Blaise had handed it to him. The butler suddenly appeared, taking the glass and setting it on a tray before vanishing again. Theodore crossed the room to where she was standing, stepping over a large woven basket of baby toys.
"Please," she swallowed, torn between wanting to shout at him in front of everyone or break down into tears and cursing all the while at the hormones that were running rampant through her body. "I'd like to go home."
He gave a small nod and then looked around at their small group of friends. "We're going to have to call it a night," he said and then looked at Draco. "I'll send Trip over to collect all the things. Our thanks to you all for the lovely evening, but I think it's just been a bit tiring."
The group bid them goodbye and Millicent accepted their congratulations and the air kisses from both Daphne and Astoria. Once outside, Theodore apparated the pair of them back to the house in London, setting his wand on the table by the door before hanging his jacket in the front cupboard. Millicent slipped off her shoes and summoned a pair of slippers from the bedroom, dropping them on the floor so she wouldn't have to bend to put them on.
"I thought you would enjoy yourself," he said finally.
"To sit there like an enormous blob and be the center of everyone's attention? Oh yes," she said, sarcasm dripping from her lips. "It was so enjoyable." She wheeled on him. "You didn't even ask!"
Theodore took a step back. "It was a surprise party, Millicent. I wasn't meant to ask."
"I don't like surprises!"
"Well I didn't know that," he shot back.
"Of course you didn't. You don't know anything about me!" She started pulling pins out of her hair and dropping them on the floor. She hated having to put it up in some fancy updo for visits to the Malfoys.
"Because you barely talk to me!" Theodore threw his hands up. "We were doing okay and then you just put up this bloody great wall and now I don't know what to think!"
"Getting married a month after burying my father wasn’t 'doing okay', Theodore. Being lovelessly married and having sex wasn’t 'doing okay', Theodore. We were never 'doing okay'!"
"Then why did you marry me?!"
"I don't know!" she shouted back at him. "But now I'm pregnant and I'm already mucking up everything and I have no idea if I even know how to love this baby or if it's going to hate and resent me just as much as I hate and resent my own parents!" She drew in a shaking breath, wiping at the tears that had started to dribble down her cheeks. "Why on earth didn't you leave me when you had the chance to avoid this mess?!"
"Because I didn't want to!" Theodore's face was flushed with frustration. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths that were almost in time with her own and she wondered if perhaps he was holding back what he really wanted to say. But instead—and it shocked her truly—he closed the space between them, hand to the back of her neck, pulling her forward as his mouth collided with hers in an almost bruising kiss.
There was a split second where Millicent almost pushed him away, but the feeling lasted for only that split second before something inside of her cracked apart. The next thing she knew she had flung her arms around his shoulders, kissing him back as if her very life depended on it.
Perhaps it did. She wasn't sure.
His fingers slid up from her neck to the back of her head and somehow managed to find a couple of hairpins that she'd missed. He eased them out and tossed them to the side, letting her hair tumble down over her shoulders as he carded his fingers through the long waves. It had gotten so thick in the last few months and she actually was enjoying this one particular change in her body. Millicent sighed at the relaxing sensation of his fingertips moving through her hair and leaned closer, her hands bunching up the back of his shirt as she held onto him.
This was so different. It was like he was asking a question with his lips that her lips were answering in full detail, having a conversation that they couldn't quite manage to complete with words. And when his mouth pulled away from hers to press kisses down her neck, Millicent was taken aback by the sound that came out of her in protest. She wanted him to stop and to keep going at the same time and she knew it was conflicting but she didn't seem to care. What she did care about was that he'd somehow managed to undo the back of her dress and push it down until it had fallen to the floor, puddling around her feet. His fingers then danced along the cups of her bra before settling on the front clasp until it too had joined her dress.
A flush of embarrassment almost brought the moment to a close. She started to cross her arms across her breasts, but Theodore caught her forearms and gently pushed them back.
"Don't," he said quietly.
"They're all veiny and—"
He pressed his fingers to her lips and kissed her again before cradling one of her breasts with other hand. His thumb traced along one of the blue lines under her skin before leaning down to brush his lips over the same spot.
"I wish you would stop hating yourself," he murmured against her skin.
She closed her eyes briefly, a shiver running down her spine. Suddenly her fingers were making short work of the buttons on his shirt, tugging it from his trousers. When it was off, Millicent kissed him again, her arms winding around his neck and her breasts pressing against the warm skin of his chest. Somehow he managed to grab his wand from the little side table and the next thing she knew they were upstairs and she was on the bed and he was kissing her everywhere.
This was so different from all the times they'd had sex before and maybe it had something to do with them not having sex for months, but the intensity was almost overwhelming. It was electric, like a storm that had been building and building until it finally broke and raged overhead.
But despite the desperation and the need, he was gentle with her. He had to be. The swell of her pregnancy kept things from being entirely too frantic and yet he still managed to draw a moan out of her with every gentle touch and when he turned her slightly, lifting a leg so he could slide into her easily, she curled her fingers in the bedspread and bit her lip until she was sure it would bleed.
She thought that it was enough. That the heady sensation of him inside of her while she was feeling all these wonderfully good things was enough. But then he started to move and she was lost, her hands reaching for him and gripping his forearms, absolutely certain that she would fly apart at every joint.
In the end it was fireworks and shudders and all these pulsing sensations that were unlike any experience before and she was almost surprised at the strangled way he called out her name when he reached his own climax.
They said nothing after it was over, Theodore keeping his arms around her and pressed against her back. His hand ran back and forth over her belly and the baby made small movements inside of her, either content with the motion or irritated by the disturbance. Maybe they should have talked. Maybe if they'd spoken with each other the monsters of doubt would have been kept at bay.
Instead of creeping back under the door and settling in Millicent's heart once again.
The sun hadn't risen when Millicent descended the staircase. She adjusted the bag over her shoulder and summoned her shoes to the bottom of the stairs as well as flicking her wand at the bell pull. Trip popped into view as she shoved her feet into the shoes, wincing slightly at the pinchy feeling and cast a small extendable charm on them to make them more comfortable. Holding out the bag to the house elf, Millicent pulled an envelope from the pocket of her robe with Theodore's name written on the front. She set it on the table by the coat cupboard.
"Mistress, why are you up so early? Would you like breakfast already?" Trip asked, looking worried and tugging at his wide ears.
"I need you to take me to Norfolk," she said, not answering his question.
"Master Theodore should be the one to take you places, Mistress. Trip will be in trouble if he takes you without letting him know."
She pointed at the letter on the table and tried not to feel terrible about the woebegone look on Trip's face; he truly did love Theodore. "I've told him not to punish you. But I can summon the Knight Bus if you are concerned."
The elf's eyes widened. "Oh no, Mistress! Trip could never not do something that Mistress has asked of him." He clutched at her bag and held out his tiny hand to her.
Millicent swallowed down the lump in her throat and took the tiny elf's hand and the next thing she knew she was standing on the front step of the Bulstrode Manor in Norfolk. The sky to the east had just started to lighten and while she didn't normally visit unannounced these days, Millicent knew that the Bulstrode elves would not turn her away. She turned to Trip who was still clutching her bag looking as if he was desperately wishing she'd tell him that she'd changed her mind.
She held out her hand and took the bag from him. "Thank you, that will be all," she said.
The elf gave a little moan of sadness before vanishing and Millicent let herself into the house, the spells on the door still recognising her touch as a proper member of the family.
Inside, the house was silent and dark. Millicent ran her hand lightly over the curve of her stomach and then reached out to touch one of the large portraits hanging on the wall. The image of her grandfather snorted in its slumber and turned over. Millicent had an urge to prod at him and show him her wedding ring and the baby she was expecting. The old codger had always said she would never have either in her life and she truly did want to prove him wrong. But she held herself back and continued on to the sitting room.
It should have been surprising to find Eunice in her chair in the dark room, but Millicent wasn't taken aback. The old woman had always the sort to rise before the sun, grumbling about people being layabouts. She set down the cup of tea she had been sipping and gave Millicent a look, eyes stopping once at her belly before sniffing. She gestured to the sofa and Millicent took a seat, putting her bag on the floor at her feet. It promptly disappeared and she knew it would be up in her old bedroom.
"So has he tossed you out?" she asked, signalling for an elf. The timid looking creature filled a cup with weak tea and set it in front of Millicent.
Millicent pressed her lips together and sucked in a breath through her nose. She would not get angry at the old woman. She would not give her the satisfaction. "No, I came to see you for a bit, Auntie."
"A bit," Eunice said, grey eyebrows raised. "Hmmm."
'A bit' eventually turned into a week, which eventually turned into two. Millicent did things around the house and kept the old woman company. Mostly that involved reading from books that never seemed to make her aunt very happy or wheeling Eunice into different rooms depending on the time of day or the brightness of the sun. It wasn't a comfortable routine and Millicent found the days seemed to drag on unhappily. Her back would not stop aching and she couldn't sleep more than a few hours before the baby was shifting and turning and jostling her awake.
The letters started once a month had passed.
All of them were addressed to her and all of them in Theodore's scrawling handwriting. She didn't read them, but wrote back once to say she was fine, the baby was fine, and she still needed more time.
On the first of June, one of the house elves appeared at the bench by Millicent's mother's jonquil covered grave. Millicent had taken to spending afternoons, when Eunice was sleeping, to visit her mother. Sometimes she cried. Sometimes she railed against the dead woman for having left her. Sometimes she told stories of the things that had happened at school. She'd specifically asked not to be bothered when she was there and hearing the elf call out 'mistress' caused a frown to appear on her face. She turned, fully prepared to scold the elf, but stopped when she saw who was standing behind the little creature. Her mouth fell open.
"My god, Millicent," Pansy said, stepping past the elf and waving at it dismissively before taking a seat next on the bench. "Look at you."
"Wait... how..." Millicent gave her head a bit of a shake. "How did you get here?"
Pansy reached over and patted Millicent's round stomach. Normally she didn't care for people touching her without asking, but she was so taken aback by Pansy being there that she didn't protest. The other woman looked almost exactly the same as she had when they were in school. It was the same dark hair, only a bit longer, cut in a sharp bob that accentuated her cheekbones. Millicent had considered mimicking the style once when she was twelve, but her father had refused to allow her.
"Your husband told me where you were," Pansy said, leaning down to pluck at a blade of grass. "Though I'm really quite put out. A wedding and a baby and you didn't even send me a letter?"
Millicent looked at Pansy for a long moment, still truly in shock that the other woman was sitting beside her. And then promptly burst into tears.
Covering her face with her hands, her shoulders shook and the sobs seemed to come from deeper than she was expecting. Sharp, ugly sobs and she tried to explain, but it all came out in a blubbering mess. She was ruining Theodore's life. She was potentially ruining this baby's life. She didn't have a mother; she didn't know how to be a mother or how to love anything. What right did she have sentencing this baby to a life like that? It would be a miserable life, just like her own.
"Oh, Millicent," Pansy said, patting her on the shoulder. "You're such an idiot." She held up her hand before Millicent could respond. "You both are and I've already told Theodore as much."
"He had no idea what it would be like," Millicent said, almost defensively.
"No, he didn't," Pansy replied. "I'm pretty sure that's why he owled me."
"He owled you?"
"Of course he did," Pansy said. "You ran away, while pregnant, and refused to come home. I mean, I know why you did it, but Theodore is never going to understand. He didn't grow up like you and I did."
Millicent flushed. Pansy was right. And perhaps it wasn't the entire root of the problem, but it must have been a large factor. Theodore's family was so different from hers. Although she was a little overbearing and sometimes they argued angrily in Chinese, Millicent could always tell that Theodore's mum loved her son and his father was often carrying on long conversations with him about business and profit and even quidditch. Pansy had only been fortunate in that she'd grown up with two distant and unloving parents rather than one as Millicent had. But that was why they had matched so well at Hogwarts, their similar upbringings. They knew the sting of cold letters and empty holidays and eating their meals with the elves watching instead of with the family.
"He must hate me," Millicent said mournfully.
"He doesn't..." Pansy said in an uncharacteristically soothing tone.
Her words trailed off though at the sound coming from the grounds behind them. With a curse under her breath, Pansy got to her feet. Millicent turned and saw Theodore trying to move with two elves wrapped around his legs in an attempt to hold him back. She looked up at Pansy who was pinching her nose.
"I told you to wait," she said.
He shot her a dark look. "I'm through with waiting. She is my wife and I want to talk to her."
"Theodore," Pansy stepped around the bench. "This was not what we discussed and you know it. Let me spend some time with her first and then we—"
"It's alright, Pansy," Millicent said, not wanting to be talked about as if she wasn't there. She shifted uncomfortably and pressed a hand to the small of her back, trying to work out the ache that was constantly wrapping itself around her spine these days. "Theodore and I should talk."
Pansy shot Theodore a bit of a scowl and then turned her attention back to her. "Just call for me if you need me to drag him home."
She couldn't help but smile. "I will, Pansy. Thank you."
Once the other woman had left—taking the elves that had been holding Theodore back away with her—Millicent shifted on the bench and attempted to stand. She felt his warm hand touch her shoulder and stopped moving. He slowly came around the back of the bench and took a seat beside her. Millicent looked over and blinked in surprise at how awful he looked. It was obvious by the dark circles under his eyes and the pallor of his skin that he hadn't been sleeping. Her heart squeezed painfully as the guilt settled inside of her. She'd done that to him. Just another thing on a long list of reasons why she was not a good match for him.
That still didn't stop her from reaching out and touching his stubbled cheek.
"I'm sor—"
"Am I really that terrible to be married to?" he asked, interrupting her and she almost gasped at the worry and hurt that seemed to be pouring out of the expression on his face.
"It's not that," she said, dropping her gaze to the ground.
"Then what is it?" He ran a hand through his dark hair, parts of it sticking up in places. "Because I just don't understand why you'd rather come and live here with your grouchy aunt instead of staying with me in London and, I know that Pansy says that it isn't, but I keep coming back to the thought that there is something truly terrible about being married to me."
Millicent drew in a breath, using the heel of her hand to wipe away the tears that she thought would never end. There was a movement and she watched as he pressed a small white handkerchief to her palm. She curled her fingers tightly around the fabric and pressed it first to one eye and then the other.
"It isn't terrible," she said finally. "You've been good to me. More than I deserve." She looked over at him sadly. "I just don't think I'm good enough for you. Anyone really." She rested her hand on her stomach, feeling her heart ache.
"Do you think our child is going to hate you?"
She shrugged. "I can't imagine that it would love me very much. Look at what I've done to it, and you, already."
"What you've done..." He let out a dry, almost exasperated, laugh. "Millicent, the only thing you've done is drive me mad with not seeing how much I actually love you." He reached out and took her hand, surprising her by lacing his fingers with hers.
Her heart gave a little lurch and she stared at him, her eyes wide, blurting out, "But why on earth would you?"
"How could I not?"
It was like she was watching it happen to someone else. Someone who looked just like her. Someone who couldn't be her. He held her hand and he began to talk and at every small protest, he squeezed her fingers. He spoke of how he'd watched her the day she'd buried her father, how he hadn't decided that he was going to suggest this idea of marrying her at first but had changed his mind when he'd seen her. He spoke of her strength. He spoke of things she hadn't even realised she was doing, how his mother was glad he'd chosen her, how he was glad that he'd chosen her.
"But I'm such a mess," she said weakly.
"You're not. I don't know who it was who convinced you that you're not worth loving, Millicent. I suspect it was your father and if he wasn't already dead...."
"You love me." She said it once and the words had such an unfamiliar feeling in her mouth.
"I love you," he said, touching her chin and turning her face towards his. "Please come home."
She drew in a breath and then after a moment shook her head. "I can't."
"But why?" The hurt in his face broke her heart.
Millicent bit her lip. "Because I think my water just broke.... You need to take me to St Mungo's."
It turned out, as Millicent looked down at the tiny boy she held in her arms, that ancient Chinese prediction charts were surprisingly accurate.
When Theodore's mother had come to them months ago with her baby prediction, Millicent had taken the whole notion with a grain of salt. But she'd been wrong. She'd been so wrong and she was certain that she was never going to question the other woman ever again.
Labour had been hard. She'd never imagined just how hard it would be. Yet, once it was over and the tiny squall filled the room, all the effort and pain that had proceeded it seemed to fade into a memory. Suddenly she couldn't imagine that it had ever been difficult at all and when she mumbled as much, not really directing her words at anyone in particular, the mediwich who was tending to her said something about how all women forgot when they held their child for the first time.
She'd never felt anything like this.
"I'm not sad," she said, using her free hand to wipe at her eyes. "Why am I crying?"
She looked over at Theodore who had managed to perch himself on the edge of her bed, sitting as close to her as he dared. To her surprise she could see tracks of tears on his cheeks. She reached up and ran her finger along one of the wet lines. A smile spread across his face and he turned into her touch, kissing her fingertips as they passed over his lips.
"If I ever figure it out myself, I'll let you know," he said, sniffling slightly and Millicent wished she had a handkerchief she could pass to him, returning the gesture he'd made earlier in the day.
Returning her gaze to the baby, she traced her finger over his tiny nose. It was a little wide set and she suspected it would be a Bulstrode feature once he was grown. His little lashes peeked out from under eyes that were a bit hooded and she smiled because they looked just like Theodore's. She wondered if he would have the same intense dark eyes of her husband or if he'd grow into the golden-green hazel of her own. This little boy was a perfect blend of the pair of them and she was shocked at how fiercely she felt toward him already.
"I love him so much," she said, almost astonished. "I love him. Is this what love feels like? I would die for him. Am I allowed to love him this much?"
She felt Theodore shift and press a kiss to her temple, the wispy curls still damp. "Yes. And you are."
Millicent drew in a breath, turning her head and her nose bumped against his. She bit the edge of her lip nervously. "You too," she said quietly. "I love you too."
His eyes crinkled slightly and she knew he was smiling. "Half an hour ago you were threatening to hang, draw and quarter me."
"Was I? I don't remember that."
"The threats were quite colourful. I didn't actually know you know that many types of medieval torture techniques." Millicent rolled her eyes. "I had look passable in front of the Carrows... so I did my reading."
But rather than let old memories of that awful last year of school float around between them, Millicent returned her attention to the small bundle in her arms. Her heart swelled exponentially at the way the little boy yawned and held her breath, afraid of interrupting it. She felt Theodore lightly stroking her hair and closed her eyes. "We never talked about names," she said after a long moment.
"What about your fath—"
"We are not naming our son Humphrey," she said, cutting him off before he could even finish asking the question. "And not Archibald either."
She just couldn't imagine this beautiful little boy to be shackled to such a name. But her mind was coming up blank. She hadn't spent the last few months pouring over baby name books or talking names with other women. She knew that Theodore's mother was hoping they would incorporate something traditional, but Millicent wasn't confident that she would not botch up a proper Chinese name. Scrunching up her nose, Millicent tried to imagine this little boy older, with a name he would always enjoy, a name that he wouldn't mind if people shortened it or that she wouldn't mind if people shortened it.
Theodore kissed her temple. "I wasn't going to suggest my father's first name. But his second name is Alexander. A little more palatable."
"Alexander..." Millicent breathed, tracing her finger over the little boy's plump cheek. "But what about your mother? She asked about his Chinese name..."
"And we should pick a name that pleases us first... and if that name isn't Chinese, my mother will have to come to terms with that."
"Does Alexander please you?" she asked, still not sure.
She thought about some of the boy names she knew. There weren't many outside of those she went to school with and she really didn't want to name their baby after one of their school mates. Though she had considered Vincent at one point, months ago. Crabbe hadn't been so terrible in the beginning, before everything had gone to shit in their lives, but it was a name that carried too much baggage and she couldn't see herself saddling this small child with that sort of history. The little boy in her arms opened his eyes and stared at her.
A name popped into her head. From a long ago book that had once belonged to her mother. About a boy and his bear.
It was a name that could be theirs. Not her family's. Not his.
"Theodore... what about the name Christopher? He could be a Christopher. Couldn't he?"
"He could," Theodore said, running his hand over the baby's head, smoothing back the wisps of dark hair. "I like it."
"Christopher," Millicent said with an assured tone, lifting the little boy up and kissing his forehead. She then turned and leaned closer to Theodore, pressing a kiss to his lips as well.
"Hold still, Millicent. Just a few more." Pansy slid another hairpin into Millicent's hair, twisting one of the small plaits she'd woven into the twist at the back of her head.
Christopher sat on the floor, throwing blocks across the room until Theodore's mother swept into the room and carried him off, all tickles and laughter. Probably to spoil him with egg tarts, Millicent thought as she smoothed down the soft white robes sprinkled with embroidered jonquils around the hem. Pansy finished with the hairdo and cast a holding charm on it, twisting one long loose curl around her finger until it rested artfully on Millicent's shoulder.
"Do you think it's silly that we're doing this?" she asked, glancing at the other witch in the mirror and watched Pansy straighten the rather form fitting pink robes she'd chosen to wear.
"Well, you're already married with a child... a second wedding?" She shook her head and gave Millicent a wry smile. "I get to be maid of honour, so I don't think it's silly at all. It would have been another story entirely if you'd had Astoria stand up with you."
"Even though you're Christopher's godmother?"
Pansy laughed and dotted some lipstick on her lower lip, spreading it with her finger so that it just barely coloured her mouth. "Even that. Being his godmother doesn't give me an excuse to wear new robes. A second wedding does."
They left the room and joined the others down in the garden behind Theodore's parent's home in Kent. When he'd asked her to marry him, the second time, she hadn't thought he was serious. But he'd explained that this was a wedding for her. Not for him. She'd not made any demands of him the first time they'd gotten married and he wanted her to have a say, to have her own day, without making concessions to his mother or his traditions.
"Are you ready?" Pansy asked, hand on one of the French doors that led out to the garden.
"I am," she said, lightly clutching the bunch of yellow flowers that she'd asked to be brought from the Bulstrode estate.
It was different this time. She certainly didn't feel as she had two years prior, dressed in red and pouring tea for her mother in law. The hot August sun shone down on the gathering of people, cooling charms keeping the garden tolerable. Millicent's thoughts drifted back over the last year and how she'd changed and how surprising the strength of her feelings were for both Theodore and Christopher.
She smiled when he turned and flushed when his mouth opened slightly as he took her in. He made her feel beautiful and he made her feel loved and she'd never in her life known that she could feel this way.
"Hey," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, as she took his hand.
He smiled. "Hey."
The details of the rest of the ceremony were a blur. She said words and whether they made sense, she didn't know. And it didn't matter what he was saying because it was how he looked at her that mattered. They'd given each other the rings from their first wedding and, in turn, returned them to the appropriate fingers. This wedding felt more real than the first and she couldn't stop the few happy tears that rolled down her cheeks, laughing when he held out a pristine white handkerchief to her.
After their kiss and after others had cheered, Theodore leaned close.
"Are you glad you married me?" he asked.
"Which time?" she countered with a smile.
"Both."
Millicent nodded and looked toward Theodore's mum who was dandling Christopher on her knee. "Yes. Yes, I'm very glad."
"Because of Christopher?"
She shook her head and reached up, grasping the front of his dress robes, tugging him down for another kiss. Another round of applause broke out from the guests and breaking the kiss, Millicent leaned close to his ear.
"Because of you. Because you made me feel worth loving. Because of Christopher. Because he showed me I could love." Her hand found his and she brought it to rest on her stomach. "And because in seven months this one gets to show me just how much I can love."
Theodore's eyes went wide. "Wait... really?"
She nodded. "The healers confirmed it yesterday."
He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly. "I love you, Millicent," he said, his voice thick and she wondered if there were tears in his eyes.
"I should hope so," she said thoughtfully. "You did marry me twice."
And if he asked her, she would do it again and again.
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