The Last Horcrux

Hieronymus Crouch

Friday night both boys were overexcited, bouncing with anticipation - Gavin about his Quidditch match the following day and Oakley about his upcoming playdate with Delphi. Sev took Biscuit for a walk, leaving Remus to organize tooth brushing and story reading. One of the advantages of owning a dog was the opportunity it provided to get out of the chaos of the house for a few minutes. He liked being out in the dark streets alone with his thoughts. It was January thaw and the pavement was wet, shining with melted snow. The air was moist with a vague promise of spring. The orange streetlights glowed, surrounded by halos of mist and the factory towers loomed black and silent over it all. He passed a neighbor, Angus James. They had gone to primary school together. Angus was walking his own dog, a rangy wolfhound. They nodded to each other.

"Lovely evening," said Angus. "Feels like it's warming up."

"Seems like it," Sev agreed. Neither of them felt the need to speak further, but the vibe was friendly, neighborly. Sev marvelled at the way he was accepted here now, after so many years of being an outcast.

An ordinary life, he mused as he turned in at his own gate. I'm living an ordinary life. He was surprised at how much the thought pleased him.

When he got home the boys were settled and Remus was in the shower. He went up to the third floor to look in on them. Biscuit trotted behind him then bound onto Gavin's bed and snuggled under the covers. The nightlight rotated slowly, casting comforting shadows of broomsticks and snitches. Oakley was already asleep, his breath whistling through his nose, his thumb in his mouth. He's so beautiful, thought Sev as he kissed his soft cheek and pulled the covers up around his shoulders.

Gavin was still reading in bed. Sev bent to give him a hug.

"Not too late Gav," he admonished.

"Mmm," Gavin said, intent on his comic.

He went down the stairs. He looked into the nursery. They had bought a crib and a changing table last week. A Tescos bag with newborn nappies and wipes sat unpacked on the old rocking chair. He picked up a bright green carrier bag with a yellow logo splashed across it. Peapod it read. He carried it across the hall to his parents' old bedroom that now belonged to him and Remus. He set down the bag, opened the wardrobe and started changing into pajamas. He hung up his shirt, cleaning it with a charm. Remus came in wrapped in a towel, his huge belly protruding underneath it.

"Oh my back," he groaned, arching and stretching like a cat.

Sev looked him over critically. "Do you think you're in labor?" he asked.

"No."

"Last time it started as back pain."

"This isn't the same. That was ... I've never felt anything like that before. This just hurts." He lay down on the bed and let the towel fall away. His naked belly was round and glowing, like a pink sun. "I wish I was in labor," he said.

"I know," said Sev. "Here." He brought the carrier bag over. "I got you something."

The bag was full of tiny clothes - onesies and socks and cotton rompers. A fleecy suit for outdoors. Little hats that tied under the chin. A fluffy white blanket.

"You went shopping!" cried Remus with delight, unpacking the clothes.

"I thought we'd best be ready," Sev replied.

"They're so tiny!" said Remus, running his finger over a miniscule sock. Sev had chosen the plainest baby clothes he could find, mostly white or unbleached brown, but a few of the rompers had imprints of animals or flowers and one of the little caps was adorned with rainbows.