Chapter Text
2002
'That bloody sun', thought the dark red haired witch snuggled on her side. Her duvet half thrown over her body after last night's bathroom extravaganza. It was not an upfront feeling, only a sour rolling under her ribs when she woke. She dealt with it as she dealt with most things: by ignoring it until either she was in unbearable pain or Fred called Molly, again. She'd tried all the usual remedies: Dry toast, ginger in the pocket of her Healer robes. Tea left half-drunk because the smell turned against her after two sips.
Her promotion at work hadn't helped her in the slightest. She was honored, Remus'd instilled that in her - along with Sirius' more reckless advice. Senior Healer at twenty-five was not a gentle appointment, and nobody at St Mungo’s had allowed her to forget it. The ward needed rota changes, a young junior trainee healer who doesn't know a bandage from a wrapping and Merriweather had developed the infuriating habit of saying “with respect” before disagreeing with everything she said. Lilah told herself everything came from work: . The headaches, faint sickness that worsened every morning and returned, nastier, whenever she forgot to eat was work as well. Everything could be work if she was determined enough.
Fred let it go for longer than most people would have. He joked, because he always joked, but he watched. He watched when she pushed eggs around her plate and claimed she had eaten at the hospital. He watched when she fell asleep sitting upright with a medical journal open on her lap. He watched when she stood still on the landing one morning, hand on the banister, breathing carefully through her nose.
On Monday, he finally put his foot down.
“You’re not going in,” he said from the kitchen doorway.
Lilah was standing by the counter in her shift and stockings, one hand pressed to the cold wood, her Healer robes folded over the back of a chair. The kitchen smelled of toast, rain, and the faint burnt-sugar scent that drifted up from the shop no matter how often they cleaned. Downstairs, George had already dropped something heavy enough to rattle the floorboards.
“Babe, I have to.,” Lilah said.
“You’re the colour of Nearly Headless Nick.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that illustrious compliment.”
Fred crossed to the table and pulled out a chair with his foot. “Sit down before you fall on your arse.”
“Goodness babe, I'm not an invalid.”
“Of course you aren't. But you look like you're about to faint, and not from my devestatingly handsome face.”
She turned her head slowly and gave him a look. Fred, being Fred, only leaned back against the table and folded his arms. His hair was uncombed, his shirtsleeves rolled unevenly, and there was a streak of orange powder near his wrist from something in the shop. He looked far too awake for a man who had been up late arguing with George about whether a self-screaming Howler counted as a legal product.
“I’ve got discharge reviews this morning,” Lilah said. “Two curse follow-ups. A new trainee who thinks bezoars cure everything because he skimmed the wrong chapter at school. I can’t just vanish.”
"I'm sure St. Mungos can survive one day without you.”
“Barely. The head Healer told me the other day that the hospital would fall into pandemonium without me.”
"No pressure, then. Glad to see they recognize you as human.”
Lilah reached for her robes, ignoring him.. The movement made her stomach turn, swift and sharp, and she had to stop with her fingers clenched in the fabric. Fred’s expression tightened. The teasing did not leave him completely (frankly impossible), but it stepped back.
“Lilah,” he said, quieter now, “go and see someone.”
“I'm fine, Fred. Honestly. I'm sure I would know if something was seriously wrong with me."
“Isn't there an oath you take that you can't diagnose yourself or something?”
“That's just faff, we can.... it's just not advisable."
“Hmmm.... so you're diagnosing yourself then.”
“Yes. It’s nerves.”
Fred looked around the little kitchen, as if the answer might be written on the walls. “Nerves are making you sleep through dinner and go green every time tea exists?”
“With this promotion, it's just been a lot all at once. It'll go away eventually”
“You’ve faced down curse wounds, my mother, and George. A new badge on your robes isn’t enough to knock you sideways.”
“It's just exhausting. My body is just adjusting to the newness of it.”
“No,” he said, and for once he did not try to turn the word into a joke. “I hate it for you, darling.”
Lilah just looked at him. “You run a joke shop, Fred. It's sort of like that, y'know. You have employee, business decisions and a million headaches waiting for you.”
She sat down because the chair was suddenly the best idea in the room. The relief of it annoyed her. Fred noticed that too, but he had the sense not to mention it.
“I’ll take the morning,” she said after a moment. “Not the whole day. That's my compromise."”
“Start with the morning. But I bet you'll decide you missed me so that you'll spend the whole day with me."
Her mouth twitched despite herself. Fred came closer, took the robes from her lap, and draped them over the chair again.
“I’m fine,” she muttered, though it had begun to sound unconvincing even to her. "I'm fine."
Fred pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Of course.”
She managed half a slice. Afterward, she went back upstairs “for an hour” and slept until nearly noon.
That frightened her more than the nausea.
Lilah woke in the grey light with the uneasy sensation of having lost part of the day. The room above the shop was quiet except for rain ticking against the window and the muffled thumps of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes opening below. A shout came up through the floor, followed by George’s voice declaring that a product could not be blamed for “customer cowardice.” Fred answered something she could not make out. A child laughed, high and delighted, and the sound should have made Lilah smile.
Instead she lay still, one hand on her stomach, and counted back dates without meaning to.
She stopped almost at once.
No. There were simpler explanations. Stress, poor sleep, too little food, irregular cycles made worse by long shifts. Her body had been unreliable since the war. That was the polite phrasing, the sort Healers used in notes when the real words were uglier. Dark magic damage. Reproductive complications. High likelihood of loss. A set of facts written down years ago in a file she had read too many times, as though reading it again might make it kinder.
She got out of bed too quickly and had to grip the wardrobe until the room steadied. Anger came then, hot and useful. Anger was easier than fear. It got her dressed, got her teeth brushed, got her downstairs in one of Fred’s jumpers and a skirt that felt too tight at the waist though she knew it was not.
Fred had left soup on the hob with a warming charm over it. There was a note beside it.
Eat something. This is not a trap. George made the soup, so if it’s dreadful, blame him. If it’s good, I helped. —F
The handwriting leaned messily across the parchment, letters crowded together as if even ink had somewhere more interesting to be. She set the note down and tried the soup. It was good, which meant George probably had made it. She ate three spoonfuls before the smell of onion rose too strongly and forced her away from the bowl.
The afternoon dragged. She tried to read a case report and found herself on the same sentence after twenty minutes. She folded laundry that was already folded. She stood by the sitting-room window and watched witches pass through Diagon Alley with cloaks pulled tight against the rain. Every so often, the idea she refused to consider pressed at the edge of her mind, and every time she shoved it away with the briskness she used on overconfident trainees.
By five o’clock, the nausea had worsened. Her head ached behind one eye. Fred came up from the shop carrying a ledger and found her sitting at the table with a cup of water untouched in front of her.
He took one look and set the ledger down. “That’s it. We’re going.”
“No.”
“Yes..”
“I said no.”
“It worked this morning, doll. But this is getting ridiculous."
Lilah pushed her chair back. Standing turned out to be a mistake, of course it had. The kitchen slipped out of place for one sickening second. Fred caught her elbow, not hard, but she pulled back on instinct.
“Fred...”
His hand dropped immediately. “I mean it, Lils. We're going.”
That's the last thing she saw. Her vision blurred around the edges and she dropped. Fred's faint voice rang out in he rears but she could respond. She felt a distant touch on her arm, but she was gone.
***
She came back to herself on the kitchen floor with her head against his chest and his arm locked around her shoulders. George was kneeling on her other side, white-faced under his freckles, a wand in one hand and the other hovering uselessly as though he wanted to help but had no idea where to touch.
“Lilah,” Fred said. His voice had gone flat with fear. “Look at me.”
"Fred? I'm fine, honey. Sorry - did I - ugh, my body feels like it's been fileted."
George let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse. “Brilliant. Very comforting. Anyone fancy explaining why my sister-in-law just dropped like a sack of potatoes?”
“I dropped?” Lilah asked, though she was still leaning heavily against Fred.
“You sure did,” George replied. ”
“I’m taking you in,” Fred said. "No arguments, Evans. We're getting to the bottom of this."
This time, Lilah did not argue. Pride seemed ridiculous from the floor, especially with her heart still beating too fast and Fred’s hand shaking against her sleeve. She nodded once.
“Not Apparition,” she said weakly. "I'll spontaneously combust."
“Floo,” Fred answered at once.
“You're not allowed to carry me. We're not in some bad romance darma."
“You faint again, I’m carrying you through the whole of Diagon Alley and telling everyone you’re overcome with love for me.”
“In that case I’ll walk. George..."
George stood quickly. “I’ll close up.”
“The shop—” Fred began.
“Will survive without both of us for once. Verity’s got the till, and I’ll chuck everyone out if they complain.” George looked down at Lilah again, trying for a grin and not quite managing it. “You, meanwhile, are going to listen to medical professionals..”
Lilah rolled her eyes, ignoring the pulsing aches throughout her body. Fred helped her up. He kept his arm at her back. She hated needing it. Hated feeling as though she needed taking care of. She was always the one taking care of others. .
The Floo left soot on her sleeve and nausea in her throat. St Mungo’s received them in its usual clamour: coughing witches, a wizard arguing with the Welcome Witch about a cauldron stuck on his head, a toddler blowing purple bubbles from both nostrils while his mother looked close to tears. Lilah had walked through the entrance hall hundreds of times in lime-green robes, mind already on the ward, footsteps quick and purposeful. Arriving in Fred’s jumper, pale and off duty, made the same hall feel wrong.
The Welcome Witch recognized her at once. “Healer Weasley?”
Lilah drew herself upright by habit. “I need an assessment. I've - uh - got some problems. I fainted earlier..” Her mind so foggy, she couldn't place a professional assessment of her condition. Some senior healer you are, an ugly voice at the back of her mind penetrated through the fog.
Fred added, “And she’s been pretending it’s nerves for a fortnight.”
Lilah looked at him. “That wasn’t necessary.”
The Welcome Witch’s quill scratched across the intake parchment. To her credit, she did not smile. “Ailments?”
“Yeah,” Lilah said quickly.
Fred glanced at her, but kept quiet.
A trainee from the fourth floor came to fetch them, a fair-haired girl named Alice who looked horrified to find a Senior Healer on her list. Lilah almost pitied her. Almost. Her mind remained too foggy to really interpret anything.
Alice seemed to decide that writing things down was the best thing she could do. She asked the usual questions, and Lilah answered in the clipped, precise tone of someone determined to remain useful. Onset, duration, appetite, dizziness, recent exposure to cursed objects, potions, unusual stress. Fred sat beside the bed and said very little, though his knee pressed against hers.
Then Alice reached the question Lilah had known was coming and dreaded anyway.
“Date of your last menstrual cycle?”
“I’m irregular. Always have been.”
Alice’s quill paused for the smallest fraction of a second. “Any possibility of pregnancy?”
“No,” Lilah said.
Fred’s hand moved on the bedspread, mere inches from her back. The room seemed to shrink around that one word. Lilah heard rain against the window, the murmur of voices beyond the door, Alice’s breath as she decided how brave she needed to be.
“The standard diagnostic panel includes a pregnancy charm,” Alice said. “You can decline it.”
“Run the panel. Best to rule that out.”
The answer came too quickly. Alice did not comment. She cast the first few charms with careful hands, checking pulse, blood pressure, blood sugar, fever, magical contamination. Nothing explained enough. Low pressure, yes. Exhaustion, certainly. Mild dehydration, unsurprising. Then the pregnancy charm unfurled from her wand in a thin line of white light, touched Lilah’s sternum, and drifted down.
Gold bloomed over her abdomen.
Nobody spoke.
The gold should have faded quickly. It lingered, soft and steady, like a guiding light.
Alice lowered her wand. “Healer Weasley—”
“Again,” Lilah said.
Fred turned his head toward her. “Lilah.”
“Again.”
Alice swallowed, nodded, and repeated the charm. The second result was the same.
Gold.
Lilah stared at it until her vision blurred. She had expected panic to come loudly. Instead, the first thing she felt was a cold, practical disbelief. . It must be an error. It must be interference from the old curse scarring. It had to be an error. It must be an incompetent charm, though Alice had cast it cleanly. She'd trained her, she knew Alice was a competent healer. There must be some ordinary explanation if she could only think fast enough.
“I’ll fetch Healer Merrin,” Alice said.
Lilah didn't answer. Fred’s hand covered hers at last, warm and careful. She let it, because pulling away would require strength she no longer had.
Healer Merrin arrived within minutes. Lilah knew her well enough to be relieved and sick with dread at the same time. Merrin was older, sharp-eyed, and not given to fuss. She had been one of the Healers who reviewed Lilah’s case after the war, back when every appointment felt like another inventory of damage.
“Lilah,” Merrin said, closing the door behind her. “I’m going to check the result myself.”
“Please.”
Merrin worked efficiently. Two confirming charms. A blood-marking spell. A deeper diagnostic that made Lilah grip the bedframe while light mapped the places in her body that had never fully healed. Fred stood close, always there. Always present. His face had gone pale beneath his freckles, and he watched Merrin’s wand as if sheer attention could force better news from it.
The final charm faded. Merrin sat on the stool opposite the bed and folded her hands over the file.
“You’re pregnant,” she said. “Very early. My estimate is around six weeks, though I would want a follow-up scan for firmer dating.”
Lilah heard the words. They entered her mind cleanly and found nowhere to settle.
Fred spoke first. “Is she in danger tonight?”
Merrin looked at him, then back to Lilah. “No, not based on what I’m seeing. The fainting is likely from low blood pressure, dehydration, not eating enough, and the added physical strain. She needs rest, fluids, and monitoring.”
Lilah’s voice returned, thin but steady. “And the pregnancy?”
Merrin’s expression did not change much. That was another mercy, and somehow worse than panic. “Your old injuries are still a serious concern.”
“Say it properly. Please.”
Fred’s fingers tightened around hers.
Merrin took a breath. “The risk of miscarriage is very high. Your previous diagnosis estimated the chance of carrying successfully at roughly one in a hundred. I don’t see anything tonight that improves that estimate. If the pregnancy continues, reaching viability would still be uncertain, and carrying to term would be medically unlikely.”
She'd heard it before. Back then it had been part of a ruined future she and Fred had slowly learned to walk around. They agreeed that having children after the tragedy they lived through - was not ideal, not with the risks it would put on her body. They'd accepted that. The flat over the shop, Molly’s overfilled table, George shouting from below, nights when Fred woke from nightmares and reached for her, mornings when she left for St Mungo’s and he put tea in her hand. It was a good life. She loved their life together.
Now the old diagnosis was sitting in the room with them again.
Merrin continued gently. “There are choices to discuss, but not all tonight unless you want that. For now, I’d like you to take a rehydration draught, eat what you can, and remain off work. At least a week to begin with.”
“I run Spell Damage. I can't be missing work, Merrin.”
“Someone else can run it while you’re ill.”
“I’m not ill.”
Merrin gave her a dry look. “You fainted, you’re dehydrated, and you’ve just had a significant shock. Choose a different argument.”
Under other circumstances, Lilah might have laughed. Fred made a small sound that might have been the beginning of a laugh if he had not been so frightened.
“I’ll give you a moment,” Merrin said, rising. “Alice will bring the draught. I’ll come back shortly, and then we’ll decide whether you’re going home or staying for observation.”
When the door closed, Lilah looked down at her lap. Her hands were still linked with Fred’s. His wedding ring caught the cold hospital light, familiar and ordinary, and the sight of it nearly undid her. Fred waited. That was unlike him. Fred was not one to let the room fall into silence.
“I don't know what to think. I... this can't be happening,” Lilah said.
The words spoken from her were foreign. She had expected them to come out strong. But they were weak and shaky.
Fred answered without hesitation. “I’m not asking you to be. Never, doll.”
“I should be happy, shouldn't I? This should be a miracle. But I can't feel anything, Fred.”
“It's alright, baby. We'll figure it out, I promise.”
She let out a breath that almost hurt. “I don’t feel anything good.”
Fred sat beside her on the narrow bed. The mattress dipped, bringing his shoulder against hers. “Then don’t pretend. Let me be here for you. We have our entire family who'll bring a shit ton of Shepard's pie.”
“I don’t want to go through this.”
“Lilah—”
“I don’t,” she said, sharper now, because if he was gentle she would break. “I can't imagine falling in love with this baby and losing them all over again. I hate myself that I can picture a future with a baby, but I know it won't happen. The odds are too astronomical for something to go wrong. Everyone will be sympathetic and I can't do that again. Your mum is going to keep me in bubble wrap, I can't take the coddling, Fred.”
Fred’s jaw worked. “Mum doesn’t need to know.”
“She’ll guess. Molly has some kind of supernatural power of mothering.”
“Then I’ll become astonishingly distracting.”
“You already are.”
“Good. I’ll make a career of it. You think I can make her go crazy by Christmas.”
She shook her head, but a small, helpless sound escaped her. It was not quite laughter. Fred looked relieved to hear it anyway. That feeling didn't last very long.
“I don’t even know if I wanted children,” she said. “That’s the worst part. I wanted us to have a family, I did, at one point. Now? Our life is simple and I love it that way”
Fred looked at their hands. “Sometimes change is good. Our lives are changing, and that's alright. We'll make it through.”
“Yeah,” she said, and her voice cracked for the first time. “I suppose you're right. People yearn to have this experience every day. Even if it terrifies me and we have the slimmest chance, we've been through hell and back. I suppose I need to have a brighter outlook on things.”
“Don't worry Lils, you'll always be my pragmatic queen.” Lilah let herself laugh for the first time.
“You would be a wonderful father.”
His eyes shut briefly, "I'd be fair at it. I expect George would never let me live it down. He used to always say I'd be the twin to breed like a rabbit. Live up to that good ol' Weasley name, eh, Freddie?"
“Ha. With the way he was pawing at Angie last Sunday, they'll get a village out before us." said Lilah. "But I know you think about it. Don't you? I don't see you being satisfied forever with just the two of us."
He nodded, albeit somewhat reluctantly. “I’ve thought about it. Course I have. I see you with the little ones at Sunday lunch. But then I get lost in the hell you went through and I know why you wouldn't want to."
“It's in the past,” she said. "They can't hurt me anymore than they already have."
“No,” he replied. “They can't."
Lilah swallowed hard. The room blurred again, not from faintness this time. “I hate them. I hate what they did to us.”
She pressed her free hand to her abdomen before she could stop herself.
That was when she began to cry.
It didn't happen all at once. She tried to stop it at first, but it became way too overwhelming. But the first sob tore up from somewhere deep in her, and then Fred’s arms were around her, pulling her close. She gripped the front of his shirt with both hands and buried her face against him.
“I'm scared, babe,” she said into the wool. “My body feels like my own worst enemy.”
"I know, sweetness. But you are the most badass, kind and strong woman I've ever met." Fred smiled into her hair. "And my Lilah can deal with whatever life throws at her with dignity and grace."
His hand moved over her back, slow and firm.
After a while, the sobs quieted. Lilah stayed against him, ashamed of how much she needed the solid warmth of him.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Fred drew back enough to look at her. “Never apologize for needing someone to hold you, to love you. Sirius would have my hide if I acted different."
“And Harry, and Uncle Rem and Tonks and Ginny and...”
"You're listing off the entire family tree, aren't ya. Believe me, if I were anyone else, I'd be terrified at the prospect of hurting the Chosen One's sister. But since I've seen him in nothing but his dungarees, I have seen the most terrifying he'll ever be." Fred jested.
“Just don't let Harry hear you say that. Merlin, I think he was more traumatized than you were. Ginny never let him live it down."
“Well, he shouldn't have been stark naked around me.”
“You burst into their flat unannounced on the rare event Harry had a weekend off. Don't act like you didn't know what was going to happen, darling..”
"Thank Merlin I didn't see the other occupant of that shower.”
“The hell were you doing in their bathroom.”
“The element of surprise... I had a dung bomb.”
"You're impossible, Fredrick."
"The one and only.”
“But seriously,,” Fred went on, “I’m here with you. Whatever this becomes. In this life and in the next.”
"In this life and the next, it'll always be me and you." recited Lilah, smiling. Their mantra since their fifth year. They'd known each other their whole lives, friends from the start.
The door opened after a soft knock, and Alice came in carrying a tray. Her eyes were carefully lowered.
“Rehydration draught,” Alice said, setting a small vial beside the bed. “There’s broth as well. Healer Merrin said small sips.”
Fred picked up the vial and sniffed it. “This is criminal. What do they put into this?”
“It’s standard,” Alice said. "Mr. Weasley, I assure you it's fine."
“Still criminal.” huffed Fred
Lilah took the vial from him. “Stop being dramatic."”
Alice gave a smile. “Healer Merrin also said to tell you she will personally inform Spell Damage that you’re on leave until you recover. Healer Doubtfire will take over in the interim.”
Lilah closed her eyes. “That woman is a menace. Hopefully I still have a ward to come back to.”
Alice left them with the tray. Lilah managed the draught in slow swallows, grimacing at the bitter aftertaste. Fred nudged the broth closer. She took a spoonful for him because she finally felt some hunger.
Merrin returned after twenty minutes with instructions written in a clear hand. Rest. Fluids. Food in small amounts. Monitoring charm by the bed. Follow-up in forty-eight hours. Emergency return for bleeding, severe cramping, fever, collapse, or any change Lilah heard her repeat one hundred times. And of course, she was banned from working until she was fit to return.
“You’re looking at me as though I’m unreasonable,” Lilah said when Merrin finished. "I can help in some of the routine cases. Nothing fast pace, but I don't want to be away."
“I mean it, Weasley. Until you can go a shift without fainting, I want you to rest and recover. Your health is above anything else.”
Merrin softened then, her attention returning to Lilah. “You don’t have to absorb everything tonight. This is early, and the risk is real. But we'll stay positive. This is a good thing, Healer Weasley.”
They chose to go home.
Merrin arranged the staff Floo so Lilah would not have to pass through the public hall. Fred stepped into the green flames with her, one arm around her waist, and held her steady when they stumbled out into the kitchen above the shop. The flat was dim and familiar. A lamp burned on the table. Rain streaked the window. Someone had left sandwiches under a warming charm with a note propped against the plate.
Made too many. Don't ask any questions why. Turning into Mum.
—George
Lilah stared at the note until the letters blurred.
Fred read it over her shoulder and sighed softly. “He’s been pacing holes in the floor, I expect.”
“We certainly gave him a show. Better him than having the entire family storm in here demanding answers.”
“Should I tell him?” asked Fred nervously.
“Not yet. Though I'm sure he'll figure it out eventually. I want to keep it on the down low until we're more in the safe zone."
“Yes. Good idea."”
"I guess I'll go lay down. Healer Merrin will have a fit if I'm up for more than thirty second, evidentially."
"You need some water?"
"Yeah." Lilah said, starting to head for their bedroom. "Fred?"
He turned to face her. "I love you so much. You're a dream come true. Just wanted you to know that."
A mischevious smile. "Love you more, Lils. You're everything to me."
Her eyes shone. "I know."
"Just promise me whatever happens, you'll not hide in yourself. I want you to lean on me."
A single tear rolled down her face. "I promise."