sapphire || fred weasley

eighty-two

Triggering content, viewer discretion advised.

August, 2001

Time was running out.

Beatrice was running out of time

Her second trimester went by in the blink of an eye and she didn't feel ready yet. She wasn't ready.

The nausea had eased up halfway through the fifth month but the dizziness always remained. Her chest felt as if it was on fire every minute of everyday but she was always hungry or craving something, which when she ate would only fuel the flames in her chest further.

Her body ached terribly in ever position she was. Either if it was standing up or sitting down or lying down, Beatrice never really found anything to be comfortable enough.

Her belly was bigger each day and also heavier, her lower back was killing her.

Juliette always reassured her that due to the constant power increase in the baby's magical signature, the symptoms would be just as strong since her body was not only dealing with her own repressed magic, but also the baby's.

Beatrice missed her magic. She missed the simplicity of drying her hair or shaving with a simple flick of her wand.

She missed her wand. The feeling of it tightly clutched in her hand. She wondered if Fred was able to find it after Greyback took her.

She knew that the wand chose the wizard, but a part of her heart desired for her daughter to own her wand when the time was right.

Beatrice could notice that the baby was going to come out just as hyperactive as Fred was.

The apple doesn't fall far from the three after all.

And the baby rarely stopped moving. She only did when Beatrice assumed she was asleep, so she only had a tight window of time to rest before the baby was kicking and shuffling all over the place again.

She went crazy when Beatrice spoke to her.

She moved and kicked and Beatrice knew that she was letting her know that she wasn't alone. That in a weird twisted way, she was understood.

And as happy as she was for having a healthy and developing baby inside her, Beatrice couldn't help but cry.

She cried almost every night. She couldn't help it.

Because her daughter's destiny and life were not in her hands. They were in her brother's, and Aster's and Juliette's, and how well the plan worked out when she delivered her.

Because she would never get the chance to see her grow up. To hold her in her arms every night and soothe her when she cried.

To hear her first laugh and her first words. To see her take her first steps and smile for the first time.

And it wasn't fair. None of it was.

Because there was no nursery to decorate with flowers of every color. Because there were no tiny clothes to be folded. Because there was no crib for Fred to set up while she watched.

The moment the baby was born, Beatrice only assumed to have a maximum of five minutes to hold her before Aster took her to safety in the underground wing and Theo blocked every memory she ever made.

And Beatrice didn't feel ready to let go just yet.

She didn't want to let go of her unborn child.