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The second red line appearing on the tiny panel of the plastic stick feels almost like a Bludger's hit to the stomach—the same loss of breath and minor physical damage—as its edges become more definitive, solving any doubts about her recent sickness.
Pregnant.
Angelina is pregnant .
The result isn’t so surprising, considering she's been the one suggesting that her boyfriend stop using precautions.
The conversation came up the night after their first public date. Apparently, Marcus Flint, after two months of dating, wanted commitment and she...she was really bad at it.
They spent the night at the annual Inauguration Gala for the new Quidditch season where Angelina, the talent scout for the Appleby Arrows, was supposed to introduce the rosters for the team.
It was a long and boring event, so she thought it would be a nice change to bring a date and enjoy a couple of dances, rather than sitting in a corner and pretending the pattern on the wallpaper was more interesting.
It took her two weeks to muster up the courage and ask Marcus to attend.
She didn't know where they stood. They had been keeping things light and casual—and she was more than happy with that—but attending a formal event with your partner didn't exactly qualify as casual anymore.
Unexpectedly, when she asked him, he hadn’t given it a second thought and answered yes right away.
At the Gala, he'd been charming with the other guests and engaged in witty conversations. As Angelina made her speech, he kept his focus solely on her, listening intently and smiling up at her the whole time.
He brought her drinks and took her to the dance floor, keeping her too close than the etiquette of such a formal event would have allowed. Twirling her around, she saw the jealousy from her co-workers watching them and decided she didn't care.
She had never felt so happy.
"You know, you didn't need to stand," Angelina teased, recalling his standing ovation at the end of her speech.
Marcus's mouth travelled dangerously low on her neck. "Shut up," he mumbled against her skin. "l was only cheering for my girl."
The statement made her freeze.
It was the first time Marcus was opening up about their relationship and defining them as a couple. It wasn't really what she was expecting, since he knew from the start she wasn't looking for anything long-term.
He stood back and looked down at her, frowning in concern. "That was too much."
It wasn't a question. He was exceptionally good at reading her.
Biting on her lip to ground herself from her overwhelming and twisted emotions, she nodded silently. Even if it was Marcus searching her eyes, she was the one to catch the hurt in his.
He kept quiet the rest of the night and she missed his warmth dreadfully.
On the way back to her apartment, Angelina realised that keeping things casual hadn't been a mutual decision in the end: Marcus was just patiently working his way inside her heart in those stupid, subtle ways only Slytherins knew, all while she kept offering him ways out.
She had been too scared to let him in.
Since Fred's death, she promised herself she wouldn't fall in love again. That plan had worked for five years, efficiently protecting what was left of her old self from new scars, but then...then she met Marcus Flint, and for the first time the thought of the scars he might leave behind wasn’t as terrifying.
This time she was willing to take the risk.
"I don't want to use contraceptive charms anymore." It wasn't exactly a declaration of love, she could tell, but her nervousness took over and with Marcus raising an eyebrow—hand mid-air from cleaning the Floo Powder off his jacket—looking confused and concerned, she decided to continue anyway, lest the embarrassment eat her alive. "They make me feel dizzy and nauseous the day after and if you are serious about this—"
"This?" He crossed his arms around his chest with a stern expression, daring her to acknowledge the elephant in the room.
She took a deep breath. It suddenly felt like they were back on the Quidditch field trying to score the Quaffle in the opponent's hoop. "Us. If you are serious about us...I would prefer to use the potion. I'm not sleeping with anyone else so if you aren't—"
"I'm not." He squared his shoulders just like Chasers did before the launch. "I haven't been since that time you fell from my broom."
She smiled, amused at the memory, and shook her head. "But that was on our second date!"
"Exactly."
Angelina looks down at the pregnancy test again and sighs.
The Muggle test was her best option—she wouldn't have trusted the result of the diagnostic charm as her hands kept shaking every time she attempted to cast it—but its indisputable result no longer offers an alibis to keep lying to herself.
Apparently "Acceptable" isn't a good enough grade in Potions to brew an effective contraceptive.
She puts the test down on the counter and, carefully raising her shirt, stares down at her belly in the mirror. There isn't any visible bump at the moment but in a couple of weeks, the skin will swell and stretch into an unmistakable round prominence, growing to accommodate the needs of the new life inside her.
Resting a hand on her flat belly, she tries to imagine a tiny beating heart beneath and wonders at all the possibilities.
Is she ready to be a mother?
Can she take care of a child? Her child?
Does she have any maternal instinct?
The war changed her: death after death, it dug into her soul and took away hope and optimism, leaving emptiness and sorrow instead.
After five years, she still feels broken.
Doesn't a child deserve better than that?
She exhales heavily and lowers the shirt.
Will Marcus be happy about it?
Angelina isn't sure. If Marcus isn't ready to be a father, she would be failing him yet again...just like she did when he tried to propose three months ago.
It was their fifth monthaversary and Marcus had taken her to the most exclusive restaurant in wizarding London. Angelina wasn't even sure "monthaversary" was a real word, let alone a real recurrence, but clearly, for Marcus, it was serious business. Still, she kept rolling her eyes every time he mentioned the upcoming one.
Usually, they would spend the night together at one of their flats. One time they even had a picnic in the park to enjoy a magical fireworks display scheduled the same day, but this time Marcus had insisted that she wear a fancy dress and forget about the roast.
The place he took her to reminded her of Hogwarts, with the ceiling enchanted to look like a starry night, and Asphodels adorning the halls. In the corner, there was a small orchestra playing music softly.
It was lovely.
A simple dinner, even in such a refined place, was a relief compared to his last gifts. Since their relationship became "officially" exclusive, Marcus had been escalating with his presents: from chocolates and flowers to diamond earrings.
By the time dessert was served, an unsettling feeling started to grow inside Angelina, making her stomach twist in a knot. "You aren't going to propose, are you?"
It was meant to be a joke but, meeting his guarded expression, it was clear she had hit home.
Marcus leaned back against his chair—to put distance between them or to brace himself for the worst, she wasn't sure—and regarded her with a cold expression. "Would that be so terrible?"
Getting married was something she had entertained only once in her life—with a ginger guy with sparkling blue eyes and a joke always ready on his tongue—but that dream had been buried with Fred's body.
Her throat felt dry and her voice barely audible as she breathed the answer. "I don't think I’m ready for that."
"What are you scared of?"
Angelina didn't reply and Marcus didn't press the matter any further. As always, he could find his answer right behind her eyes. He stood, asked for the check, and they silently left.
The walk to the Apparition spot felt never-ending and uneasy.
"I think you should bring your toothbrush to my apartment," she blurted out when she couldn't take the silence anymore.
He stopped abruptly and slowly turned around. "My what?"
"And your clothes too. And your… Actually, you should bring all your stuff and terminate the lease with your landlord." She nodded firmly.
She might not be ready for marriage yet, but there was one thing she had been sure of for a while: She loved him and would fight tooth and nail before she lost him.
Marcus studied her with a closed expression for a moment, making her squirm under his burning gaze. He knew that when she danced around the issue it was just her survival instinct taking over, even when her intentions were genuine.
"You are a piece of work, you know?" He exhaled heavily and shook his head. "But I'll be damned if l don't love you for that."
"Are you ready, love?"
Angelina jumps as a gentle knock on the door breaks the silence in the room. The familiar voice clears the fog that clouds her thoughts and brings her back to the more pressing matter: Marcus is waiting in her— their —bedroom to take her out.
She doesn't know why she decided to take the test right now—when there is just a thin wooden panel separating them—but when her boyfriend mentioned "going out" and "surprise" in the same sentence, the memory of the pink box with "99% Accurate" written above in large letters popped into her mind.
She grabs the pregnancy test and rushes to bury it at the bottom of the waste bin in the corner, along with her bravery.
Marcus knocks again more firmly. "Is everything alright?" His voice sounds a bit perturbed at the sudden commotion from behind the bathroom door.
"Fine!" she shouts out, hastily washing away her remorse. Putting on the most reassuring smile she can conjure, she opens the door. "I'm ready. Let's go!"
Marcus looks at her, still a bit uncertain, but nods slyly and offers her his hand to take. If he notices how hers shakes before it closes around, he doesn't say.
With a swirl and a pull, they Apparate away.
The moment their feet touch the concrete, Angelina is overcome by sickness. Her vision blurs and she tastes bile in the back of her throat.
"Are you sure you are okay?"
She closes her eyes, inhales deeply, and swallows down the bitter acid. "Yes, I…skipped lunch is all." Turning around, she tries to escape his doubtful gaze and gathers in her surroundings.
They are somewhere along the coast. The ocean is just a short walk away—the flow of the sea is loud and clear, and the salty wind gently strokes their faces—but aside from an old cottage that barely seems able to stand up, the place looks deserted.
"Where are we?"
Suddenly Marcus's face lights up and his lips pull in the goofiest grin. "This is our new home!"
Angelina takes a better look at the construction. The plaster of the walls has deep and extended cracks, the door is missing with half of the roof, most of the windows have broken glass, and some of the weeds surrounding the house have climbed the walls and invaded their spaces.
"But...this place is falling apart! And look—” she motions to the unmistakable beast with a potato-like head trying to hide in the brushes “—there are even gnomes in the garden!"
Marcus waves a hand and dismisses her concern. "Nothing that restructuring and disinfection charms can't fix."
Angelina shakes her head.
How can they afford to invest their savings on some old shack with a baby on the way?
It’s foolish.
At her sceptical expression, he continues, completely unperturbed. "Come on! Just give a look around. The place isn’t that bad. The view is stunning and there's even a wide meadow in the back—we could build a Quidditch field!"
She startles.
That’s something fathers do.
Her heart melts, she sighs heavily and, completely defeated, moves to look inside.
Marcus follows, pleased.
Surprisingly, the interiors are in good condition. Surely the place had been enchanted with magic so powerful that she could almost feel it in the air. On the ground floor are four rooms, aside from a bathroom and an open kitchen, and upstairs are three bedrooms—two of which have private bathrooms.
She stops and stares at the ocean from one of the wide windows along the upper hallway.
The view is stunning.
Maybe they could be happy here.
Angelina doesn't get to ponder the thought too long before a thud in the next room catches her attention. "Marcus?" She grabs the handle and opens the door. "Are you there?"
In the centre of the room stands a man with haunted eyes and a cruel face. It’s the same face that invades her dreams from time to time and keeps her awake until morning—the face of the Death Eater that almost killed her five years ago in the final battle.
He raises his wand and she squeezes her eyes shut, ready to take the curse, and places a hand over her stomach out of instinct.
At that moment, Marcus comes out from around the corner. "Hey, have you—"
He takes in the scene before him and his body acts faster than his thoughts; he quickly pulls out his wand and casts a Stupefy .
But nothing happens.
Confused, Marcus puts himself between the stranger and Angelina ready for the worst, but suddenly the man is wrapped in a cloud of black smoke that expands and compresses until it shapes into two human figures passionately kissing: Fred and Angelina.
Realisation crosses Marcus's face and, without wasting any more time, he raises his wand again and states firmly, " Riddikulus! "
A new flash of light fired from his wand changes the scene before them. The kissing couple disappears and is replaced by a squealing Pygmy Puff, with a blue nose and braids in its hair. With another smooth swish of his wrist, Marcus successfully traps the Boggart in one of the bedside drawers.
Angelina watches his back rise and fall as he tries to catch his breath. "What was that?" she presses, still trying to make sense of what happened, of what she saw. "Why Fred? He's dead. How could he be your—"
"He's not." Marcus turns around to face her. "He's not my greatest fear."
"Then what—"
"l know what l want." He searches her eyes before adding, "I want a house with a view of the ocean. I want to get married, with a big, expensive, classic, wedding. I want a family with two children at least—a boy and a girl if l am lucky enough—and l want a troublesome dog and a crazy cat."
He exhales slowly, his shoulders slump. "I want all these things, but most importantly l want all of them with you. I love you and I want you but you won't even accept my ring so I'm afraid—" he takes a deep breath "—I'm afraid you won't ever love me as much as you loved him...I'm afraid someday you will realise I'm not good enough and leave me."
She can't really blame him for feeling that way; she's been the one setting up walls between them since the beginning—always wary. But Marcus broke them down, one by one, never faltering.
He was even willing to take the killing curse for her.
Still, she hasn't been completely honest with him.
"l could never leave you," she murmurs softly, then, gathering her courage, she meets his eyes and bares her soul fearlessly. "I love you more than anything and l want to spend the rest of my life with you." Looking down at her feet shyly she takes a deep breath and decides to offer him the last piece of truth. "Besides, l can't really leave the father of my baby, can l?"
Astounded, Marcus fixes her with wild-eyed and stammers. "A-... Are you-...?"
"Yes."
He fastly recovers and his face beams. With two steps, he's in front of her and, gathering her face between his hands, he kisses her with fervour.
The sudden motion makes Angelina lose her balance and she falls on the bed behind them, dragging Marcus with her.
"Careful!" she squeals as he lands on top of her.
"Sorry!" he exclaims breathless, and carefully shifts away to gently lift her shirt. Peppering light kisses on her stomach, he murmurs "Sorry" and "l love you" against her skin.
Angelina looks down fondly. "I guess you can give me the ring when we get back home."
He searches in his pocket, fishing up an unmistakable velvet box and opens it. "I've been carrying it around for weeks now. l was going to ask you again at the right moment," he explains, picking the ring from the inside and slipping it on her finger.
They stare at the precious gem silently. It sparkles, catching the last rays of the sun setting from the open window.
As the sky gradually darkens, welcoming the night, Angelina smiles softly.
For once she isn't scared of the future.