Saturnine was anxious as she flooed to 12 Grimmauld Place for what would be the Order’s last meeting before the end of the year. She and Harry were due to return to Cornwall the very next day. But Dumbledore had insisted she attend.
She wasn’t sure why her presence was necessary. But when she arrived, and the living room was empty, save for one old, seasoned wizard dressed in burgundy robes dotted with white stars and moons, she had her suspicions.
“Thanks for making the trip, Professor,” the headmaster began without rising from the armchair nearest the fireplace.
She didn’t begrudge Albus Dumbledore his lack of manners. She had noticed that his health had worsened over the past couple of weeks. And she wasn’t sure Dumbledore could stand, even if he wanted to.
“Headmaster,” Saturnine said respectfully.
“I meant to enquire, before the meeting, about your side project,” he said, waving his working hand about to indicate she should take a seat on the nearest chintz armchair. She obeyed.
“As expected, it’s slow going. But we’ve been working hard nonetheless. We had our first breakthrough a couple of days ago, actually.”
Dumbledore gave her a nod that prompted her to continue. “It is my belief that Salazar Slytherin’s old locket could be one. As I’m sure you know, it was passed onto his heirs, along with that ring you recovered. I suspect it was linked to the murder of a witch—an avid collector of magical antiquities—that happened in 1961.”
“Any proof of that?” Dumbledore asked.
“None yet, sir. But Remus and I have a plan to gather more evidence. It will take us some time to set it in motion, though. So, we’ll probably have to wait until after the New Year.”
He nodded, satisfied with her answer. “Any more leads?”
“Well, if I’m right about the locket, it could indicate a pattern.”
“Salazar Slytherin’s heirlooms.”
“Indeed. And we know where to find another. If my suspicion about the locket is correct, we will shortly attempt to retrieve the second one.” She paused, then decided that it was safe to broach another subject. “If I may, sir,” she began, careful to keep her tone courteous. “What of Draco Malfoy?”
Dumbledore raised a curious white brow above his half-moon spectacles. “What of him?”
“Mr Malfoy’s grades are slipping, and he doesn’t seem to be doing well. He barely pays attention in class anymore.” Draco had seemed to worsen the more time passed, and she wasn’t the only one to have noticed. “Professors McGonagall and Flitwick reported the same behaviour when I asked them about it.”
In for a Knut, in for a Sickle, she thought, then asked the question she really wanted to ask. “Have you made any headway in discovering who tried to kill you?”
“I haven’t,” Dumbledore replied with a sense of finality that told her that no matter how many times she asked that question, that would always be his answer. “And neither has the Potions Master who inspected the poisoned Meade.”
It was easy to know who that potioneer was, and the dark-haired witch was familiar enough with Albus Dumbledore now to read between the lines. The headmaster had discussed the matter with Severus and decided not to investigate further. And they had agreed to keep that information on a need-to-know basis. Saturnine had a bad feeling about all this, and whatever their plan was, she hoped they knew what they were doing.
The arrival of Tonks, who shook herself free of soot as she stepped out of the green flames, ended their discussion. Her hair was bubblegum pink today, and her smile was infectious. Three more members of the Order, with close ties to the Ministry, soon followed.
A short time later, Remus joined them in the kitchen, and their meeting started.
It wasn’t the most informative of sessions. It was merely a recap of the latest events, and the sharing of their spy’s most recent information. Near the end of the meeting, Dumbledore made it clear to everyone that Harry Potter would be taken to a safe location for the duration of the Holidays and that someone would guard him around the clock. He didn’t get into more details, and Saturnine made sure not to give any outward signs that she would be assigned the job.
As soon as the meeting concluded, Remus and Saturnine reconvened to the werewolf’s bedroom on the second floor.
“Will you still move forward with your plan?” Remus asked as he sat down on his bed. For lack of a better place to sit, Saturnine joined him there.
She knew that many bedrooms far larger and more comfortable were available in the old townhouse, but her friend seemed content with this one—shabby as it was. It was sparsely decorated and simply furnished, in hues of mahogany and beige, with a single square-shaped window that overlooked the street. By the looks of it, Remus did little more than sleep in here. And she surmised he spent the rest of his time either in the library or the kitchen.
Though the two of them had moved away from prying eyes and ears, Saturnine still took the precaution of casting a Silencing Charm on the door before answering the werewolf’s question.
“I will,” Saturnine said with a sense of determination that she didn’t feel. “I think.”
Pushing his pillow to the side, Remus leaned his back against the wall to sit more comfortably. He said nothing, but the eyebrow he’d arched at her words prompted her to continue.
“Am I insane? Is it folly to want to take Harry in?”
Remus kept silent, giving her an annoying, knowing half-smile. If he hadn’t moved out of reach, she’d clip him round the ear for that.
“All right.” She waved a hand at him, indicating her defeat. “Say what you have to say.”
“I only have one question.” He lifted a finger for emphasis. “Do you love Harry?”
She hadn’t expected him to lead with this question, but it was easy enough to reply to that. “You know what I’ll say.” She caught his gaze without flinching. “Of course I do.”
“Then you have the answer to your question,” Remus said, shrugging.
“Simple as that?”
“Why—did you want me to make it more complicated?”
She didn’t, but love didn’t make her doubts any less real. She still remembered where and when she had first thought to adopt Harry Potter. She had seen it as a way to throw a wrench in the cogs of the headmaster’s plans—surely that wasn’t the best reason to want to adopt a child.
The idea had grown on her in the following weeks, though. And when she discovered how easy it was to adopt someone in their world, she hadn’t thought twice about heading to the Ministry to get the correct forms. But still—would Harry want her? And more importantly: was she even right for him?
“What if I make mistakes along the way?” Saturnine asked, for once sounding much like the shy, nervous Leen Nine. “What if I make the wrong choices?”
Remus gave her an understanding smile. “You probably will at some point. All parents make mistakes, ’Nine. You’re only human; you’re not infallible. But so long as you love that boy with all your heart, things will be all right.”
She wanted to believe that it could be so simple, but she had her doubts. Harry had been hurt so much already that she didn’t want to add to his pain. If anything, she wanted to take it all away.
“Trust yourself a little, will you,” Remus continued. “I know you. You will be a good mother. You’re fierce when it comes to protecting those you care about—Molly Weasley has nothing on you.”
She gave him a shy smile at that, conceding the point. She would fight tooth and nail to protect the boy—that was a given. She was less sure about being able to provide the emotional support Harry needed. Circe knew, she’d had little practice in that area.
“You’re kind-hearted, loving, and supportive. And I know firsthand what it’s like to be the centre of your attention,” her friend continued. “Harry’s very lucky to have you, ’Nine.”
“Remus,” she said, her heart constricting tightly in her chest. Not for the first time, where the two of them were concerned, she’d heard words that hadn’t been said. The werewolf must have heard them, too, for there was no mistaking the look of understanding in his warm gaze.
“I know that ship has sailed,” he said a moment later. “But I will never forget what we had, Saturnine. And what might have been.”
She reached out a hand to him, and their fingers met halfway. “Neither will I,” she said, feeling tears well up in her eyes.
He gripped her hand tightly. “You gave me so much. You helped me when no one would.”
“As did you,” she whispered back, unable to speak louder.
As unlikely as their friendship had been, it was a marvellous thing. On top of everything else they’d had to deal with back then, she’d lost both of her parents, and Remus had lost his father. They helped each other through those difficult days in the same way they dealt with the rest of their problems.
Without her, Remus would probably never have had the courage to return to Britain after losing his three best friends. And without his support, she might never have found it in herself to seek the truth about what she was. And they certainly would not be here today, discussing the fact that she was a couple of days shy of asking Lily Evans’ son if she could adopt him.
“Now,” Saturnine said, changing the subject to lift the mood. “One question for you before I go.”
“Ask away,” Remus said, letting go of her hand. He must have felt the tone shift, too, because he was smiling good-naturedly again.
“Please tell me you’re not so oblivious as to have not noticed the way Tonks looked at you throughout that meeting.” The blush that crept up the werewolf’s cheeks was answer enough, and she chuckled before adding, “Planning to do something about that?”
“Weren’t you leaving?” the sandy-haired wizard demanded, glancing at the closed door.
“Oh, give it a chance, Remus. You deserve to have someone, too. And 1997 is almost upon us—it could be your New Year’s resolution.”
“You just love to meddle, don’t you?” he asked, his blush darkening.
“Don’t make this about me. We were discussing you,” she said, pausing to wiggle her eyebrows suggestively. “And that sassy woman downstairs. She has the hots for you, and it shows.”
“’Nine!” Remus said, blustering.
“Calling it how I see it,” she said, raising both palms. “Please do something about it,” she added before standing up.
“Merry Christmas, Saturnine,” Remus said by way of goodbye. “Thanks ever so much for your unwanted advice.”
“Merry Christmas to you, too,” she replied, lifting the silencing charms. “You know I always like a good pillow talk.”
Said pillow was flung at her retreating back an instant later. It missed its target and landed on the corridor’s carpeted floorboards. She walked away, chuckling loud enough to be sure the sound would carry all the way back to the tiny bedroom.
***
On the morning of December 25th, Saturnine indulged in a rare bout of self-introspection, for there was something no one knew about her. There was a little detail about herself that she hadn’t shared with anyone—not even Remus. What Saturnine was the only one to know was that she could never have children.
She had been twenty-three years old the day one of her mentors told her, not too kindly, that she was sterile. Her condition wasn’t the result of an illness or accident but due to a twist of fate—a cellular level deficiency. Wizards and witches like her, Elementals, carried within them incredible power, she discovered. But it came at a great personal cost—infertility.
Having grown up the way she had, Saturnine wasn’t sure that she would ever have wanted to have children. But be that as it may, she never got to ask herself the question or ponder the idea. At twenty-three years old, she had never given the matter much thought. And once she was informed of her condition, it became a moot point.
Ten years down the line, Saturnine was at peace with the knowledge that bearing children had never been in the cards for her. There had been no need to mourn the loss; she’d accepted the fact, as she accepted many other things. But a small part of herself still despised the notion that she’d been robbed of the ability to choose. She would have liked to have had the possibility, one day, to honestly ask herself that question.
And then she had met Harry Potter in Little Whinging’s playpark. And her world had been thrown off its axis.
Whenever she closed her eyes, she could still see him as he had looked that day: wind-tousled brown hair, watery green gaze lost in the horizon, worn-out trainers scuffling the playground floor as he rocked back and forth on an old swing. The lad had looked the picture of misery: underfed, sleep-deprived—grieving. Seeing Harry like that had awoken something deep within Saturnine: a part of her that had been dead to the world for years.
Perhaps it was the settings; perhaps it was the fact that this was Lily’s son. Either way, her mind’s eye was quick to superimpose the image of another broken-hearted child gently swaying back and forth on a rusty swing set. Severus had spent countless afternoons doing just that as he whiled away the time, hoping that his friend with the fiery hair would show up soon.
One look at Harry Potter’s defeated form, and it had been too much already. One glance at the pained lines of his tired face, and Saturnine knew she wouldn’t leave the park without at least talking to him. Five minutes later, she decided she would get involved, no matter what plans she had made for herself.
Glancing through Cove Cottage’s kitchen window and the weak sun that pierced the morning clouds, Saturnine marvelled at what a difference a couple of months could make to someone’s life. The young wizard that was safely sleeping in the cottage’s second bedroom wasn’t the same kid she had seen that day, was he? Wondering whether to bake cookies or a cake, she realised she wasn’t the same person either. And she was on the verge of another major life change today.
Against all odds, Saturnine was well on her way to becoming a parent after all. She wouldn’t get to carry the boy in her womb, and she would never recognise her traits in his face. But that was of little importance. Love was still love—and it was all that mattered.
Deciding on gingerbread cookies, she realised that she’d had it wrong all those years ago. It was never about what her answer would have been. It was about what Harry’s answer would be. Because, after all, asking was the easy part. Being ready for his answer wasn’t.