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Chapter 7 - Morning Sickness

There were only two people still fighting, not yet aware that Dumbledore had joined the mêlée. Harry was standing on the dais ostensibly so that he could watch Bellatrix from Sirius's point of view but half consciously hoping to keep his godfather from falling into the veil in the first place. They were both good fighters, Harry recognized many of the moves from the defense books Sirius had gifted him with the previous Christmas; he would rather duck a spell than shield it - why waste energy on a defensive spell when all you had to do was not be where the spell hit? Sirius ducked under his cousin's bright red beam, a stunner.

"Come on, you can do better than that!" the old marauder taunted, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a prize fighter.

From his vantage point Harry saw Bellatrix's eyes narrow, she pointed her wand at Sirius but fired another stunner just to his right, anticipating where he would jump next, she had a one in four chance of getting it right and this time, she did. Sirius dodged the point where he thought the spell would hit but in doing so had actually put himself directly in the line of fire.

Bellatrix looked triumphant as she had finally gotten Sirius to outsmart himself. His body arched backward flying up and back and through the veil.

Harry kept his eyes on her. He saw her victorious expression melt quickly to one of concern and then horror and finally anguish.

He lifted his head from the pensieve, slightly disoriented as his small conference room swam back into focus.

One fact was clear, Bellatrix had killed Sirius. Another fact was inescapable based on the pensieve evidence - the killing had been an accident. That didn't make her any less culpable in the eyes of the law, but she clearly did not want Sirius dead; hence the lack of truly deadly spells.

"Why am I even wasting my time on this?" he thought to himself, "why does it matter that she didn't mean to kill Sirius - she's a death eater, you have to have blood on your hands to take the bloody tattoo."

"You've killed; does that make you a death eater?" his inner devil's advocate posed.
"I killed Quirrell in self-defense."

"He's no less dead, you're still eligible for the tattoo."

"I'm letting my little head do all the thinking for my big one."

"Maybe, but you do miss her."

"Yes," he finally admitted to himself "yes, I do."

Harry shook his head, trying to clear his mind of any thoughts of dark eyes, black hair and the scent of sandalwood. He took several deep breaths, visualizing the air coming in through his nose then out through his mouth - the beginning of the occlumency techniques he had picked up from a book on mind magic courtesy of his bushy haired best friend. By the time he had cycled through several deep breaths he was able to concentrate on the week's training schedule.

The next morning Bellatrix became violently ill during late-morning tea, barely managing to make it away from the table before she spray painted the cavern wall with the remnants of breakfast left in her stomach. She stood straight not bothering to scourgify her sick, that's what house elves and menial servants are for, and went to find the revealing potion that she suspected she needed.

Harry had eaten a light breakfast; one that would not interfere with the morning's calisthenics and so was surprised when he came over all nauseous on the parade field. With very little warning he suddenly became so sick he lost his morning tea and toast. Shaking his head he used a light aguamenti spell to rinse out his mouth, then used a levitation charm to cover his episode with a little dirt and grass. By the time lunch rolled around he was famished. He ate a healthy lunch and was fine the rest of the day. Funny thing, he only got sick in the mornings. If he had been a girl he'd have had a reason to be worried.

Two days later when he lost his breakfast yet again he felt a tug on his elbow.

"C'mon Reppel" Marietta said in a slightly scolding tone "it's the infirmary f' you this time, you've been sick every morning this week."

"I'm sure its just nerves and I've only been honking brekkers. B'sides it's only been three times"

"Five."

"Really? Wait, how do you know that, does it go into your daily log? Brilliant, '20th of July, RPL Evans tosses biscuits on parade grounds,' must make for fascinating reading."

They both had a good laugh over that just as they were entering the infirmary.

"I half expect to see Madame Pomfrey here."

"You'd have to go a bit far to see Poppy, but I'll do in a pinch. I'm Healer Dumphrees and you look a bit peaked."

"He keeps honking brekkers." Marietta volunteered.

"Hmmmm, lets have a look then." The healer checked Harry's vitals, pulse temperature, magical aura and core; the usual medical procedures, then shook his head.

"Evans, it is Evans right?" Harry nodded. "Are you in a serious relationship? I mean are you betrothed?"

"I was raised as a muggle and I don't really know what it means to be trothed or betrothed, other than the obvious; that is, I'm not engaged to anyone."

"Are you in an intimate relationship with anyone?"

Marietta found the walls and ceiling to be particularly interesting.

"Can you be more clear, please?" Harry asked, a little exasperatedly.

"Are you shagging someone on a regular basis?"

Couldn't be more clear than that.

"No! I mean, no, not really. . ."

Now the healer looked quizzical "Can you be more clear, please? I mean how can you be 'not really' shagging someone? It is a yes or no question actually."

"I'll just be outside" Marietta said as she bolted.

"Repple, please tell me you're not fraternizing with your yeoman."

"No! I mean really, no. I mean I've been having some really intense dreams lately, y'know, I think they're called 'lucid' or something like that and well I haven't ever really y'know, done it. . ."

"Well bugger all, that's a sickle from me then."

"How's that?"

"Oh, my staff, a nurse and a Healer apprentice and I all have to put a sickle in a jar when we miss-diagnose a patient. I was so sure you were showing sympathy symptoms I just assumed you had a snapper on the way, by way of a lady friend of course."

Harry thought he understood but looked quizzically at the healer.

"When two mages are expecting a little sprog the developing fetus forms a bond, a link between the parents so that, unlike our muggle cousins, both the expectants, mummy and daddy, experience the joys of pregnancy. You were showing all the symptoms of morning sickness but since you are still 'non-coitus' that can't be the case."

Harry felt as though ice water had been poured into his core. Somehow he sensed the truth of it. He wasn't existing as just himself any more, there was a someone, somewhere, out there.

Healer Dumphrees discerned Harry's state of shock and asked in a gentle tone "RPL Evans, are you sure you haven't been with someone?"

If there had been anything in his stomach he would have lost it just then.

Bellatrix strode into the throne chamber with confidence and kneeled before Voldemort.

"Success m'lord."

The Dark Lord stroked her dark hair and smiled, finally his plans seemed to be bearing fruit.