welcome to the world, little hellions
Penny teetered awkwardly on her toes, trying to put the book she had finished back on the shelf. This feat was made extremely difficult by the fact that she was as large as a house and still trying to wear heels. Reading had never been such a dangerous pastime before she’d become pregnant.
“Oh bugger,” she grunted trying to edge the book further onto it’s intended resting place. She just couldn’t get close enough! The shelves hadn’t seemed that high when she’d had them put into her new home but then she hadn’t been quite as pregnant either.
Maybe if she jumped?
The idea was pretty laughable, considering her condition. She would be surprised if she had even a centimeter of vertical lift but she hoped that was all she would need. Gathering her courage, Penelope focused on her goal and crouched a bit for extra lift on take off.
What resulted from all this effort was not so much a jump as a it was a very modest hop but it got the job done. The book now sat on the shelf, not quite pushed in all the way but Penelope was passed caring. She chalked it up as a victory.
And then she realized there was a dampness to her body that hadn’t been there before.
“Oh bugger.” Her water had broken without warning contractions which, while not unheard of, Penelope hadn’t been expecting. A co-mingled sense of excitement and trepidation came over her; she was in labor.
Thinking quickly, Penelope grabbed a quill and some parchment, scrawling a quick note before calling for her owl.
While attaching the scrap to Athena’s leg, she told the owl, “Take this directly to Julian Vaisey. Don’t take no for an answer but no reply needed.” Then Penelope opened a window to let her go, leaving it open for her return and hoping no unfortunate weather took place while she was away.
Now, to get to St. Mungo’s.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Julian’s robes billowed behind him as he threw the door to his office open, causing Dominique to give a little jump of surprise. “Julian, what ees eet-”
“Owl Mr. Haydn and inform him that we will have to reschedule our meeting,” he said by way of greeting, the crumpled bit of parchment clutched tightly in his hand. “Remind Edmund that the firewhiskey shipment is scheduled to arrive at three o’clock, and if you have need of me, I’ll be at St. Mungo’s.”
“Ze ‘ospital?” Dominique queried. “But why... mon Dieu,” she murmured in understanding. “Les enfants.”
“Indeed.” With a nod for his assistant, he pulled out his wand and Apparated away with a sharp ‘crack!,’ reappearing at St. Mungo’s designated Apparition point. A quick inquiry as to the direction of the maternity ward, and Julian was out of the lobby as quickly as he’d arrived.
His footsteps echoed on the worn linoleum floors, offset by the occasional outburst from the patients’ rooms. From one, he heard a baby cry, and the sound gave him pause. He wasn’t ready to be a father. In all honesty, having children was always something he’d thought of as ‘the future,’ as in years in the future. Not right now.
And certainly not with Penelope.
Julian didn’t take kindly to betrayal. He’d let her get too close-- a stupid mistake, and one that had nearly proven to be his downfall. Their dalliance should never have gone on for as long as it did. But it had, and now he and the woman who’d tried to send him to Azkaban were linked together for the rest of their lives.
It was a harrowing thought.
Rounding the corner, his steps slowed as he neared the waiting room outside the delivery room. There was nothing for him to do now but wait. Wait for the twins, wait to see them, wait to see how the rest of his life turned out.
With a sigh, he slid out of his robes and folded them neatly over a plastic chair. It was going to be a long afternoon.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
They were beautiful, Penelope thought, brushing a finger over the cheek of her new daughter.
It felt different than she thought it would, having children. Before, the idea of being a mother was vaguely annoying, just another complication in an already complicated life. But now, now with her daughter in her arms and her son asleep next to her bed, she was overwhelmed by a fierce love.
“Hello there, little bird,” she whispered.
The Healer had said to give her a moment to rest, to let the babies-- the babies-- be cleaned up and clothed. Julian was a patient man, but at that moment, he felt like a first year outside Quality Quidditch Supplies, itching to get his hands on the newest Nimbus.
He’d given them plenty of time-- twenty minute was plenty of time. He’d long since lost his suit jacket, and his tie was hanging loose around his neck as he rolled up his shirt sleeves. There was a twinge of something-- nerves, perhaps-- bouncing around in the pit of his stomach, but he pushed the sensation to the side. Clearing his throat, he brought his hand up to knock softly on the door.
The sound pulled Penelope from her own private universe, reminding her that there were indeed people other than her children and hospital staff.
People like the father.
“Come in,” she said, trying to keep her voice low enough not to disturb the babes. She also tried not to sound too reluctant.
Julian pushed the door open, schooling his face into the familiar mask of emptiness. Or at least, he tried to. His expression faltered momentarily at the sight of Penelope, a babe cradled in her arms and another in a bassinet next to the bed.
His children. His.
He tried to speak, but for some reason, a lump in his throat blocked his words. Clearing his throat softly-- again-- he said, “Is this a bad time?”
For a moment, that mad love that had possessed her pushed her to say yes but what common sense remained made her shake her head. “No.”
Pushing away from the door frame, it took but a few steps to cross the room to her bedside. He didn’t know what to do or what to say; the situation with her was precarious to begin with, and the awkwardness was heightened by what they now shared.
Blood.
Penelope watched him watching her--their--children. He was a rumpled mess, belying the stoic mask of his face, which made her feel a bit better. He’d worried. Maybe not for her but certainly for them and in this new world of maternal madness that meant a lot to her.
“Ten fingers and ten toes,” she finally said. “Times two.”
"That's... good," he said after a pause, the tightness in his chest making it hard to say much more. "And they're healthy? Proper size and weight?"
“A bit on the small side but the Healer said that that’s to be expected in twins.”
Julian nodded, still taking in the fact that this was all happening. He was a father to two helpless, tiny babies-- and he had no idea what to do.
A stray thought flickered through his mind-- something about hair and eye color. But it disappeared in an instant when the baby in Penelope's arms-- his daughter, indicated by her tiny pink hat-- yawned, her little mouth widening in a tiny, perfect 'O.'
“Do you want to hold her?” she asked. Her reluctance was clear this time; not because of distrust of Julian but for the mere fact that it would mean she was no longer holding her.
She didn't want to let him; that much was clearly evident on her face. He wasn't surprised by the fact, really. Penelope didn't trust him to begin with, and things weren't likely to change anytime soon. Even if they were parents together.
His eyes shifted to the baby in the bassinet, the little blue bundle shifting as he woke. His son.
"In a moment," he answered. "I... I can take him, unless you'd rather hold them both at the same time."
Penelope shook her head. “No, you can take him.”
He moved around the foot of the bed, pausing at the side of the bassinet. It was instinct that had him reaching down and taking his son into his hands, drawing him up against his shoulder. It felt slightly awkward, but Julian had no experience with children. He didn't know what to do.
“Make sure to support his head,” Penelope cautioned with the one bit of baby care that she knew. “The nurses have been pestering me for names.”
His hand cupped the back of the baby's head, and Julian internally wondered again at how tiny he was. His head fit in the palm of his hand perfectly.
The mention of names brought his attention back to Penelope. They still had to name the twins. This was sure to be an easy task.
"Have you given thought to names?"
“I’ve thought of plenty of names I don’t want to name them. Have you?”
"A bit." His green eyes focused on the little girl in Penelope's arms. "What do you think of calling her Cassandra?"
“As in the unbelieved prophetess?” Peneleope wasn’t sure she wanted to needlessly burden her child with an unlucky name.
Julian gave her an arch look over the soft tuft of dark hair atop his son's head. "She was but one woman who shared that name," he informed her. His tone softened, and he glanced down at the baby in his arms. "It was my mother's name."
His mother’s name. She’d known, of course; Penelope had boxes worth of information on Julian Vaisey now shoved in storage that she’d poured over for months. She’d read the dossier over and over until she could picture each page in her mind, tea spots and curry stains included. She also knew that his mother’s name was in there and his father’s name was not and if she’d learned anything from her mother, it was that names were important, especially family names.
Penelope wondered how tightly that pointed lack gripped Julian’s psyche. And what sort of weight it would lay on her children.
“Cassandra, then,” she acquiesced. She brushed her daughter’s head and tested the feel of the syllables. “Cassie.”
The name fit, Julian decided, his gaze crossing to the sleeping pink bundle in Penelope's arms. One name down, another to go. And middle names as well.
"What about this little one?"
Looking at her son, Penelope mentally ran down the very short list of names that she’d found acceptable. Boys names had seemed easier, somehow. “In the interest of alliterative appeal, I rather like ‘Carter."
"Carter." Julian tested out the sound of the name, and he was half-surprised to note that it worked quite well. Carter and Cassandra. "I like that."
“Then that’s settled. Cassandra and Carter Clearwater-Vaisey.” She braced herself for some sort of reaction to the last name. She wasn’t sure hyphenation even existed in the wizarding world.
If she were expecting him to react in ire, then Penelope was to be quite disappointed. Julian merely gave a short nod of acceptance. For all that he didn't particularly like the double last name, he was practical enough to pick and choose his battles carefully.
"Have you any thoughts on middle names?" he asked, his tone neutral.
“Not Marie. Every girl’s middle name seems to be Marie.”
“Your middle name is Marie.”
Penelope made a face. “Exactly. I know of what I speak. How about we continue with the Greek, Arsenius?”
Julian shot a dark look at Penelope over Carter’s head. “Enjoy that little bit of investigation?” he asked in an arch tone, quite certain he had never let his middle name slip his lips in her presence.
“Infinitely more than you must have had finding out that mine is Marie,” she replied primly, causing Cassandra--she marveled at how quickly the name had taken--to fuss in her arms.
“Like that was difficult,” he shot back, lips curling in smug satisfaction when she directed a glare at him. “If we’re to continue with the Greek tradition, then, Selene and Helios seem appropriate.”
Penelope didn’t quite laugh. If Julian had been Muggle, she knew the pretentious names would have been a joke, but during her time at Hogwarts and in the Ministry she’d met a variety of unfortunately named wizards and witches--naming conventions were apparently a bit different in the wizarding world.
And she did rather like the idea. As long as they weren’t their first names.
“Not Artemis and Apollo? They were the twins,” she pointed out.
“Apollo and Artemis were mere gods,” Julian retorted, arching a brow at her repressed reaction. “Helios and Selene were Titans.”
“The gods defeated the Titans.” Penelope was sure she was arguing just for the sake of arguing now.
Julian couldn’t resist the temptation to roll his eyes. “Do you really want to name them Apollo and Artemis, or are you just trying to be ornery now?” Besides, his suggestions flowed better, phonetically speaking.
“Ornery, mostly.” Her lips quirked of their own volition. “I like Helios and Selene. Cassandra Selene and Carter Helios. Such large names for such little people.”
“They won’t stay little for long,” he mused softly, tracing one finger over Carter’s tiny brow. “They’ll grow into them.”
The idea that these tiny beings would become people seemed ludicrous to Penelope. Her grip on Cassandra tightened briefly as if she could keep her from growing through force of will alone. “But not for awhile,” she murmured, reassuring herself.
Before this moment, there had been times when Julian had half-hoped that this whole mess was some kind of a nightmare. The idea of being tied in any sort of way to Penelope had seemed unbearable.
He still wasn't particularly thrilled about it. There was bad blood between them, and it wasn't likely to go away anytime soon. But with his son in his arms and his daughter but a few feet away, the situation suddenly didn't seem quite so dark as it had before.
"No, not for awhile," he echoed.
“Oh bugger,” she grunted trying to edge the book further onto it’s intended resting place. She just couldn’t get close enough! The shelves hadn’t seemed that high when she’d had them put into her new home but then she hadn’t been quite as pregnant either.
Maybe if she jumped?
The idea was pretty laughable, considering her condition. She would be surprised if she had even a centimeter of vertical lift but she hoped that was all she would need. Gathering her courage, Penelope focused on her goal and crouched a bit for extra lift on take off.
What resulted from all this effort was not so much a jump as a it was a very modest hop but it got the job done. The book now sat on the shelf, not quite pushed in all the way but Penelope was passed caring. She chalked it up as a victory.
And then she realized there was a dampness to her body that hadn’t been there before.
“Oh bugger.” Her water had broken without warning contractions which, while not unheard of, Penelope hadn’t been expecting. A co-mingled sense of excitement and trepidation came over her; she was in labor.
Thinking quickly, Penelope grabbed a quill and some parchment, scrawling a quick note before calling for her owl.
While attaching the scrap to Athena’s leg, she told the owl, “Take this directly to Julian Vaisey. Don’t take no for an answer but no reply needed.” Then Penelope opened a window to let her go, leaving it open for her return and hoping no unfortunate weather took place while she was away.
Now, to get to St. Mungo’s.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Julian’s robes billowed behind him as he threw the door to his office open, causing Dominique to give a little jump of surprise. “Julian, what ees eet-”
“Owl Mr. Haydn and inform him that we will have to reschedule our meeting,” he said by way of greeting, the crumpled bit of parchment clutched tightly in his hand. “Remind Edmund that the firewhiskey shipment is scheduled to arrive at three o’clock, and if you have need of me, I’ll be at St. Mungo’s.”
“Ze ‘ospital?” Dominique queried. “But why... mon Dieu,” she murmured in understanding. “Les enfants.”
“Indeed.” With a nod for his assistant, he pulled out his wand and Apparated away with a sharp ‘crack!,’ reappearing at St. Mungo’s designated Apparition point. A quick inquiry as to the direction of the maternity ward, and Julian was out of the lobby as quickly as he’d arrived.
His footsteps echoed on the worn linoleum floors, offset by the occasional outburst from the patients’ rooms. From one, he heard a baby cry, and the sound gave him pause. He wasn’t ready to be a father. In all honesty, having children was always something he’d thought of as ‘the future,’ as in years in the future. Not right now.
And certainly not with Penelope.
Julian didn’t take kindly to betrayal. He’d let her get too close-- a stupid mistake, and one that had nearly proven to be his downfall. Their dalliance should never have gone on for as long as it did. But it had, and now he and the woman who’d tried to send him to Azkaban were linked together for the rest of their lives.
It was a harrowing thought.
Rounding the corner, his steps slowed as he neared the waiting room outside the delivery room. There was nothing for him to do now but wait. Wait for the twins, wait to see them, wait to see how the rest of his life turned out.
With a sigh, he slid out of his robes and folded them neatly over a plastic chair. It was going to be a long afternoon.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
They were beautiful, Penelope thought, brushing a finger over the cheek of her new daughter.
It felt different than she thought it would, having children. Before, the idea of being a mother was vaguely annoying, just another complication in an already complicated life. But now, now with her daughter in her arms and her son asleep next to her bed, she was overwhelmed by a fierce love.
“Hello there, little bird,” she whispered.
The Healer had said to give her a moment to rest, to let the babies-- the babies-- be cleaned up and clothed. Julian was a patient man, but at that moment, he felt like a first year outside Quality Quidditch Supplies, itching to get his hands on the newest Nimbus.
He’d given them plenty of time-- twenty minute was plenty of time. He’d long since lost his suit jacket, and his tie was hanging loose around his neck as he rolled up his shirt sleeves. There was a twinge of something-- nerves, perhaps-- bouncing around in the pit of his stomach, but he pushed the sensation to the side. Clearing his throat, he brought his hand up to knock softly on the door.
The sound pulled Penelope from her own private universe, reminding her that there were indeed people other than her children and hospital staff.
People like the father.
“Come in,” she said, trying to keep her voice low enough not to disturb the babes. She also tried not to sound too reluctant.
Julian pushed the door open, schooling his face into the familiar mask of emptiness. Or at least, he tried to. His expression faltered momentarily at the sight of Penelope, a babe cradled in her arms and another in a bassinet next to the bed.
His children. His.
He tried to speak, but for some reason, a lump in his throat blocked his words. Clearing his throat softly-- again-- he said, “Is this a bad time?”
For a moment, that mad love that had possessed her pushed her to say yes but what common sense remained made her shake her head. “No.”
Pushing away from the door frame, it took but a few steps to cross the room to her bedside. He didn’t know what to do or what to say; the situation with her was precarious to begin with, and the awkwardness was heightened by what they now shared.
Blood.
Penelope watched him watching her--their--children. He was a rumpled mess, belying the stoic mask of his face, which made her feel a bit better. He’d worried. Maybe not for her but certainly for them and in this new world of maternal madness that meant a lot to her.
“Ten fingers and ten toes,” she finally said. “Times two.”
"That's... good," he said after a pause, the tightness in his chest making it hard to say much more. "And they're healthy? Proper size and weight?"
“A bit on the small side but the Healer said that that’s to be expected in twins.”
Julian nodded, still taking in the fact that this was all happening. He was a father to two helpless, tiny babies-- and he had no idea what to do.
A stray thought flickered through his mind-- something about hair and eye color. But it disappeared in an instant when the baby in Penelope's arms-- his daughter, indicated by her tiny pink hat-- yawned, her little mouth widening in a tiny, perfect 'O.'
“Do you want to hold her?” she asked. Her reluctance was clear this time; not because of distrust of Julian but for the mere fact that it would mean she was no longer holding her.
She didn't want to let him; that much was clearly evident on her face. He wasn't surprised by the fact, really. Penelope didn't trust him to begin with, and things weren't likely to change anytime soon. Even if they were parents together.
His eyes shifted to the baby in the bassinet, the little blue bundle shifting as he woke. His son.
"In a moment," he answered. "I... I can take him, unless you'd rather hold them both at the same time."
Penelope shook her head. “No, you can take him.”
He moved around the foot of the bed, pausing at the side of the bassinet. It was instinct that had him reaching down and taking his son into his hands, drawing him up against his shoulder. It felt slightly awkward, but Julian had no experience with children. He didn't know what to do.
“Make sure to support his head,” Penelope cautioned with the one bit of baby care that she knew. “The nurses have been pestering me for names.”
His hand cupped the back of the baby's head, and Julian internally wondered again at how tiny he was. His head fit in the palm of his hand perfectly.
The mention of names brought his attention back to Penelope. They still had to name the twins. This was sure to be an easy task.
"Have you given thought to names?"
“I’ve thought of plenty of names I don’t want to name them. Have you?”
"A bit." His green eyes focused on the little girl in Penelope's arms. "What do you think of calling her Cassandra?"
“As in the unbelieved prophetess?” Peneleope wasn’t sure she wanted to needlessly burden her child with an unlucky name.
Julian gave her an arch look over the soft tuft of dark hair atop his son's head. "She was but one woman who shared that name," he informed her. His tone softened, and he glanced down at the baby in his arms. "It was my mother's name."
His mother’s name. She’d known, of course; Penelope had boxes worth of information on Julian Vaisey now shoved in storage that she’d poured over for months. She’d read the dossier over and over until she could picture each page in her mind, tea spots and curry stains included. She also knew that his mother’s name was in there and his father’s name was not and if she’d learned anything from her mother, it was that names were important, especially family names.
Penelope wondered how tightly that pointed lack gripped Julian’s psyche. And what sort of weight it would lay on her children.
“Cassandra, then,” she acquiesced. She brushed her daughter’s head and tested the feel of the syllables. “Cassie.”
The name fit, Julian decided, his gaze crossing to the sleeping pink bundle in Penelope's arms. One name down, another to go. And middle names as well.
"What about this little one?"
Looking at her son, Penelope mentally ran down the very short list of names that she’d found acceptable. Boys names had seemed easier, somehow. “In the interest of alliterative appeal, I rather like ‘Carter."
"Carter." Julian tested out the sound of the name, and he was half-surprised to note that it worked quite well. Carter and Cassandra. "I like that."
“Then that’s settled. Cassandra and Carter Clearwater-Vaisey.” She braced herself for some sort of reaction to the last name. She wasn’t sure hyphenation even existed in the wizarding world.
If she were expecting him to react in ire, then Penelope was to be quite disappointed. Julian merely gave a short nod of acceptance. For all that he didn't particularly like the double last name, he was practical enough to pick and choose his battles carefully.
"Have you any thoughts on middle names?" he asked, his tone neutral.
“Not Marie. Every girl’s middle name seems to be Marie.”
“Your middle name is Marie.”
Penelope made a face. “Exactly. I know of what I speak. How about we continue with the Greek, Arsenius?”
Julian shot a dark look at Penelope over Carter’s head. “Enjoy that little bit of investigation?” he asked in an arch tone, quite certain he had never let his middle name slip his lips in her presence.
“Infinitely more than you must have had finding out that mine is Marie,” she replied primly, causing Cassandra--she marveled at how quickly the name had taken--to fuss in her arms.
“Like that was difficult,” he shot back, lips curling in smug satisfaction when she directed a glare at him. “If we’re to continue with the Greek tradition, then, Selene and Helios seem appropriate.”
Penelope didn’t quite laugh. If Julian had been Muggle, she knew the pretentious names would have been a joke, but during her time at Hogwarts and in the Ministry she’d met a variety of unfortunately named wizards and witches--naming conventions were apparently a bit different in the wizarding world.
And she did rather like the idea. As long as they weren’t their first names.
“Not Artemis and Apollo? They were the twins,” she pointed out.
“Apollo and Artemis were mere gods,” Julian retorted, arching a brow at her repressed reaction. “Helios and Selene were Titans.”
“The gods defeated the Titans.” Penelope was sure she was arguing just for the sake of arguing now.
Julian couldn’t resist the temptation to roll his eyes. “Do you really want to name them Apollo and Artemis, or are you just trying to be ornery now?” Besides, his suggestions flowed better, phonetically speaking.
“Ornery, mostly.” Her lips quirked of their own volition. “I like Helios and Selene. Cassandra Selene and Carter Helios. Such large names for such little people.”
“They won’t stay little for long,” he mused softly, tracing one finger over Carter’s tiny brow. “They’ll grow into them.”
The idea that these tiny beings would become people seemed ludicrous to Penelope. Her grip on Cassandra tightened briefly as if she could keep her from growing through force of will alone. “But not for awhile,” she murmured, reassuring herself.
Before this moment, there had been times when Julian had half-hoped that this whole mess was some kind of a nightmare. The idea of being tied in any sort of way to Penelope had seemed unbearable.
He still wasn't particularly thrilled about it. There was bad blood between them, and it wasn't likely to go away anytime soon. But with his son in his arms and his daughter but a few feet away, the situation suddenly didn't seem quite so dark as it had before.
"No, not for awhile," he echoed.