May, 1976
Her life once again changed in May of 1976. The days of worrying about the future once again returned with full force.
She had just done a pregnancy spell check after a couple of weeks of missed periods.
As the pink mist rose from her belly, her heart dropped.
She only cast the spell as a jest after using all the health diasnotcis charms she knew. Her mind couldn't wrap around how this happened; she always used the proper charms to prevent pregnancy.
She didn't know if the charm had fallen or whether she had done it wrong, but now she was carrying a life.
She fell on the bathroom floor against the door as she wailed in worry and fear.
She still wanted to continue her pursuit of magic and do so many other things; she wasn't ready to be a mother. Plus, with the war raging on, it was a dangerous time to raise a child.
She and Francis weren't able to guarantee their own safety, much less a child's. It was uncertain if they would have to leave the country if the war started spilling over to the Muggle side.
How was she to raise a child during these times?
She felt the same uncertainty she had during her childhood rushing back, which amplified her already negative emotions until the point she went fetal on the bathroom floor.
That was how Francis had found her.
Her next couple of days were unbearable. She had spent most of her day lying in bed as she often did when she was a child. She cried plenty of times, and she got mad and angry just as often.
Their room was wrecked multiple times after she did uncontrolled magic when her emotions became overwhelming. Francis had to constantly use 'Reparo' to put their room back to the way it was.
Francis had been right there with her, sometimes holding her and sometimes staying a couple of feet away to give her space, but always there nonetheless.
She had even briefly thrown accusations at Francis of tampering with charms, which she immediately felt bad about doing, and proceeded to cry some more because of it.
Even after all that, Francis always stayed with her, never leaving her side.
This continued for a couple of more days before her emotions finally subsided and she was able to think clearly once again.
She first of all apologized for her behavior and thanked Francis for staying with her.
He had simply waved her away, saying, "You are my family".
The days went by as she and her husband started planning for the baby. They also began making contingency plans and amended their previous one to include a child.
Now more than ever, they were prepared to leave Magical Britain and go wherever the war would not reach them.
Thankfully, the day they dreaded never came.
February 9th, 1977
The day of their evacuation from Britain never came. Instead, they found themselves in the maternity ward in a Muggle hospital in Warwick.
And her life changed once again on February 9th, 1977.
After the ten hours of grueling labor, she held her baby boy in her arms for the very first time.
She had seen a lot of impressive magic over the years; she had seen the enchanted ceiling in the great hall. She had explored the marbled halls of Hogwarts and felt its magic for seven years.
All the magic in Hogwarts paled in comparison to the warmth and connection she felt with her newborn baby as she held him in her arms. It felt like just the thought of her baby gave her untold magical strength. She was already well above average in magical prowess, but now she felt full like never before.
"My magic, you are mine," she muttered as she nuzzled the baby sleeping in her arms.
The next couple of months went by way quicker than she would have liked. She spent most of her time either holding her baby, feeding him, or talking to him, even if he didn't understand her, much less speak back.
Whatever time she had to herself, she spent reading books on child care.
Around six months after her baby boy's birth, strange things started happening. Her baby boy no longer followed what the books and the doctor said. He stopped crying if there was no reason; he would only ever cry out of hunger.
After she fed him, he would either return to looking at her or to staring at the ceiling.
His sleeping habits became more frequent and predictable, and patterns began to emerge. The books and the doctors she consulted had said to be prepared to wake up at night just to soothe the baby.
She didn't do that nearly as many times as they prepared her for.
Whenever she read him stories, he would laugh at all the right places and listen intently. She often found him paying attention and following the conversations she and Francis had.
She would also often catch him staring at her as if he understood her, and things only became even weirder when he started crawling.
He was never clumsy when he started to crawl. After the first attempt at crawling, he learned it immediately and never bumped into anything, as babies often did.
Also, the occasional scrapes from his toys never fazed him.
Once he had fallen on his back, attempting to walk when he was only old enough to crawl. They anticipated a wail, but it never came; he calmly rolled onto his stomach and resumed crawling as if nothing had happened.
They ran every test and inspection they could think of, and the results all came back without any irregularities.
A year passed by in a blink as her baby boy continued to amaze her every day. She had already determined he was a smart child and suspected there was more to his intelligence.
She guessed that magic was helping her child develop more quickly than the books she read suggested.
As for her husband, Francis, he had now completely taken over his family's business, and his parents moved back to France to retire in their small chateau.
He was gone most of the day, and she stayed home to watch their child.
She had come to love her baby boy more than she loved anyone or anything, even magic itself.
She had felt the connection of their shared blood on the very first day she held him. It only solidified over the year; all she wanted to do was hold him all the time and never let go.
It often felt like she could almost tell how he was feeling if she just held him tightly enough.
Alas, her baby boy didn't want to be held - no, instead, he wanted to walk everywhere.
She swore she would die because her heart stopped beating. It would happen because her son was just too adorable.
Whenever she saw his stubby little walk as he tried to balance himself, her heart would melt.
He would walk a distance and look around for her, make eye contact, and lift his chin as if saying, "look aren't I impressive?"
She would praise him, and he would be smug for the next couple of hours.
She would chuckle and think to herself, 'What kind of one-year-old baby is smug?'
The next second, she would adopt the same smug pose as her baby and think, 'mine is!'
She didn't know where he learned the pose, but she decided it was the proper pose to express her feelings.
An unbridled pride came over her every time she saw him do something impressive.
If she weren't a proper lady, no doubt she would shout for everyone to hear, 'This is my baby boy, he is mine!', but since she was a proper lady, she only said it in the confines of her own mind.
Francis had started delegating his family business responsibilities to focus more on family and spend time with their child; she was all for it.
Unfortunately, after a while, they noticed their grip on their business slipping and the ambitious snakes lurking, waiting to pounce.
They had come up with a solution to their problem.
She helped him put together a written magical contract that would discourage any Muggle who signed it from harming their interests.
She used a combination of potions and runes to be subtle about using magic against Muggles.
After that, their business ran without a direct overseer, which allowed Francis to spend time with his family.
The family continued like this for the next year.