(Nymphadora Tonks)
Saturday, September 24, 1994
Past midnight.
I cracked one eye open and stayed perfectly still beneath the blankets.
Silence.
Carefully, very carefully, I listened.
Rosmerta was breathing softly on one side of the bed, all warm and peaceful. Aurora was asleep too, though every now and then she made these tiny annoyed noises in her sleep like she was arguing with someone in a dream.
And Gilderoy…
Honestly, the man slept like he was posing for a painting.
I narrowed my eyes at him suspiciously, confirming he was still asleep.
Good.
A smug smile spread across my face.
Hmpf.
Daring to forbid me from drinking butterbeer…
As if I was some irresponsible child.
I only drank twelve yesterday. What's so wrong with that?
It's not like butterbeer can even get me drunk.
Well.
Not properly drunk.
Very carefully, I pushed myself upright. Or at least, I attempted to.
At this stage of pregnancy, "graceful movement" had become more of a distant memory than an achievable goal. By the time I managed to swing my legs off the bed, I already felt winded.
Honestly, how could something so tiny weigh this much?
I slowly stood up, one hand on my lower back. Then began the long and dangerous journey toward the door.
I had intended to tiptoe, but instead, I waddled.
No, worse than waddled.
I looked like a fat penguin attempting espionage.
Fortunately, I'd had the foresight to cast a Silencing Charm on my feet earlier.
Take that, overprotective husbands and wives.
The stairs proved significantly more difficult.
I clung tightly to the railing as I descended one careful step at a time, muttering threats toward gravity under my breath.
Honestly, whoever said pregnancy was beautiful had clearly never experienced swollen ankles.
Finally, after what felt like an entire expedition, I reached the lower floor of the Three Broomsticks.
The bar area was dark and quiet, lit only faintly by moonlight filtering through the windows.
And there it was.
Butterbeer.
Beautiful.
Golden.
Foamy.
Perfect.
My eyes practically watered.
I hurried toward the barrels as quickly as my current condition allowed, which still wasn't very fast, and grabbed the largest glass I could find.
Then I filled it to the brim.
A masterpiece.
I took a long drink.
"Mmmmmmm," I sighed blissfully. "I really needed that."
See?
Perfectly harmless.
Cradling the massive mug protectively against my chest, I waddled toward one of the nearby tables.
Then suddenly, something warm spilled between my legs and my eyes widened.
"Huh?"
My foot stepped directly onto the wet floor and slipped.
"AHHHHHHH!"
The butterbeer flew upward in a magnificent arc as my arms windmilled uselessly.
Then everything happened very fast.
I crashed onto my back with an undignified thud, the glass shattered, butterbeer exploded everywhere.
And I ended up flat on the floor like an overturned turtle, arms flailing as I tried and completely failed to sit up.
At that exact moment, the lights snapped on upstairs.
Oh no.
Rapid footsteps thundered down the stairs.
Gilderoy appeared seconds later wearing silk pyjamas, hair somehow still immaculate despite clearly having woken up abruptly.
His eyes widened in alarm the moment he saw me sprawled across the floor.
"Nymphadora!"
He rushed over immediately, kneeling beside me.
"Are you hurt? What happened? Are you alright? Did you hit your head? Why are you on the floor?"
"I'm fine!" I protested quickly.
Mostly because he looked about three seconds away from having a nervous breakdown.
"You put cushioning charms on all my clothes, remember?"
His expression brightened instantly.
"My greatest idea so far," he declared proudly.
Honestly…
Hard to argue with that one.
Without effort whatsoever, he slid one arm beneath my knees and another behind my back and lifted me clean off the floor.
I still couldn't get over how strong he was.
It was unfair, really.
"So," he said carefully, still clearly worried, "what happened this time?"
I puffed my cheeks.
"It was only one butterbeer!"
His eyes narrowed immediately.
"We specifically agreed no more sneaking downstairs for midnight drinks."
"One is not sneaking," I argued weakly.
Then I looked down at the wet mess beneath us.
"…I think I peed myself again."
Horror filled me instantly.
"Wait no! Not again! This is the first time, I swear!"
I waved my hands frantically.
Gilderoy blinked, then his eyes drifted toward the puddle on the floor and his expression changed.
"That…" he said slowly, "doesn't look like pee."
Before I could stop him, he crouched slightly, touched the liquid with two fingers…
…and smelled it.
I stared at him in disgust.
"That is filthy."
He ignored me completely.
His face suddenly went very serious.
"Nymphadora," he said carefully, "I think your water broke."
Everything inside my brain stopped.
"…What?"
My heart immediately began pounding.
Panic hit me like a Bludger.
"What do I do?!"
I grabbed his sleeve in terror.
"Gilderoy, what do I do?!"
To his credit, although he looked slightly terrified himself, he took control instantly.
His voice became calm and sharp.
"Dobby," he said firmly to the empty air, "inform Rosmerta and Aurora what happened. I'm taking Tonks to St Mungo's immediately."
A pop echoed somewhere upstairs.
Then he tightened his hold on me.
I blinked.
"Wait," I said quickly, suddenly remembering the state of my clothes. "Let me change first!"
"There's no time."
And before I could argue…
Crack~!
The world twisted around us.
I instinctively squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the horrible squeezing sensation Apparition usually caused.
Except…
It never came.
A second later, Gilderoy's voice spoke softly beside me.
"You can open your eyes. We're here."
Confused, I slowly opened them and we already stood in front of St Mungo's entrance.
I blinked.
Then blinked again.
"…What?"
There had been no nausea.
No horrible pulling sensation.
No feeling of being shoved through a rubber tube backwards.
I stared at him in disbelief.
"How?"
Gilderoy smiled proudly, looking unbearably pleased with himself despite the situation.
"Because," he said grandly, "I am Gilderoy Lockhart."
I gave him the flattest stare I could manage while in labour.
"…That explains absolutely nothing."
He chuckled lightly and finally elaborated as he carried me inside.
"Traditional Apparition compresses the traveller through a narrow spatial fold," he explained casually, as though discussing tea. "I simply widened the opening with additional magic so neither you nor the baby would experience pressure during transit."
I stared at him.
"…You modified Apparition."
"Yes."
"Casually."
"Yes."
"…You absolute lunatic."
He grinned.
"And yet remarkably effective."
Honestly?
Fair enough.
…