Chapter Text
The bookstore is quiet other than the hum of the radio and the soft scritching of the broom across the wood planked floor, Remus humming along tunelessly as he sweeps, bright sunlight spilling in from the floor to ceiling windows at the front of the shop.
His coworker is flipping through a magazine at the front counter, occasionally calling out random beauty tips and celebrity gossip that he pays no mind to, and he’s just thinking about what he’d like to have for lunch when his stomach suddenly twists.
The broom hits the floor with a clatter as he dashes towards the lav, Nicola looking up and giving him a sympathetic look as he scrambles past, and he bounces off the doorframe before his knees hit the floor in front of the toilet, gripping the cold porcelain as he loses the contents of his stomach. He heaves, gagging for a moment, stomach acid burning the inside of his throat before he throws up again, sweat breaking out across his forehead and back.
It’s the third time that morning.
When the wave of nausea seems to pass he fumbles for the handle and collapses back against the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his cheek against them as he tries to catch his breath, shivering and shuddering as his throat continues to spasm. His stomach eventually calms and he lets out a shaky sigh, glancing towards the open doorway as he reaches into his pocket for his wand, but then he decides that possibly getting a mark against him for doing magic in the presence of muggles isn’t worth the freshening charm he desperately wants to cast upon himself.
Instead he hauls himself up on trembling legs and steps over to the sink, splashing water on his face before he rinses out his mouth, swishing it between his teeth before he spits it into the basin. He stays there for a handful of seconds, hands braced against the porcelain as he tries to pull himself together, pulling a face at his reflection in the mirror when he straightens. He looks like shit: pale and clammy, with dark circles beneath his eyes and his limp curls clinging to his cheeks.
“You alright, love?” Nicola asks when he makes his way out to the front again, hopping off the stool they keep behind the counter and pushing it towards him, watching him with a worried expression as he carefully lowers himself onto it. “Did you eat something funny? You seemed fine this morning.”
“I’m not sure,” he answers, already feeling a little bit better, even though his stomach does turn a little when he thinks about his breakfast. “I had toast and tea, the same thing I have every day. I was feeling fine right before I got sick, I’m really not sure what’s going on with me today.”
“Maybe you’re pregnant,” Nicola says with a laugh, swatting him on the shoulder and turning towards the door when the bell rings, luckily moving off to greet the customer so that she doesn’t see the way the blood has drained from his face.
Remus sits there, frozen, mentally counting the days and then counting them again, stiffly turning towards the little calendar they keep next to the till. He pulls it off the nail and flips back a month, counting the days once again, thinking that surely he’s made a mistake somewhere, but no matter how many times he counts the result is the same.
Maybe you’re pregnant.
He knows, logically, that Nicola meant it as a silly joke. He’s a man, to her there’s no possible way that he could be pregnant, and if he were a muggle that would be true. But he’s not a muggle. He’s a wizard, an omega wizard, and after counting one last time just to be totally sure of the dates, he realizes that there’s a very good chance that she might be right.
He might be pregnant.
He launches off the stool, racing past the alarmed customers, and he barely makes it to the toilet before he’s sick yet again, his whole body shaking as he heaves.
When he arrives home he doesn’t even bother with taking his shoes or coat off, nudging the door to his shared flat closed as he hurries towards the bathroom, the paper bag from the pharmacy crinkling as he pulls it from his pocket and sets it atop the vanity, fisting his hands in his hair as he takes a few deep breaths.
The man at the counter had been baffled and suspicious when he’d walked up to the counter with an in-home pregnancy test and enough chocolate to kill a dog, interrogating him on why he wanted it and acting like he didn’t even want to touch the box, and Remus had eventually made up a lie about possibly knocking up his girlfriend and that the chocolate was an apology gift. He’d then gotten quite the talking to while he was rang out—lectured on pre-marital sex and the sin of procreation out of wedlock—and to add insult to injury he hadn’t even had enough to pay for it all. He’d sheepishly asked to take off all but one of the chocolate bars and the test, wishing that the floor would open up and swallow him whole to put him out of his misery.
He drops his hands with a sigh and opens the bag, setting his chocolate bar aside and pulling out the test, carefully reading over the tiny writing on the back before he opens the box. He’s not even sure if the test will work on him, they’re meant for muggle human women and not people like him, but he doesn’t want to go to St. Mungo’s unless he absolutely has to. The test itself looks like something that would have been in his chemistry set as a child, and he sets it aside before he lowers himself to sit on top of the toilet, reading the even tinier writing on the insert with the instructions.
He reads through them twice before he heaves himself up and makes his way to the kitchen, rooting through the cupboards until he finds a plastic cup that he doesn’t think anyone will mind if he tosses it into the bin when this is all done, carrying it back to the bathroom and setting it on the counter with a sigh, staring at it in resignation before he unzips his trousers.
He’s not sure how women handle it, it seems like it would be much more complicated for them to urinate into a cup or bowl than it is for someone with his particular anatomy, setting it aside and skimming over the instructions again before he picks up the little eyedropper that came with the testing kit. He puts exactly three drops of his urine into the test tube, shakes it, and carefully lowers it into the stand before staring at it.
Two hours.
He has to wait two fucking hours to find out if his life has been irrevocably changed or not.
He cautiously carries it into his bedroom and sets it atop his bedside table—the instructions said to leave it undisturbed but he can’t exactly leave it laying around where his muggle flatmates might spot it—heading back into the bathroom to wash his hands and clean up his mess. He rinses the cup out before he shoves it and the packaging to the bottom of the bin in the kitchen, taking the entire bag out to the communal bin just to be safe. He washes his hands again and retreats into his bedroom, stripping down to his pants before he collapses on his bed.
He stares at the test kit, heart pounding painfully in chest, before he sets an alarm on his bedside clock and rolls over with a groan, bundling himself in his duvet and staring blankly at the wall.
He isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do if it’s positive. He isn’t sure what he’s allowed to do if it’s positive.
There was a point in his life where he might not have worried about it as much, but ever since Remus was placed on the werewolf registry after nearly killing Snape he knew that having children had been taken off the table for him, even if he might want them one day. Because he knew then, as he knows now, that no one in their right mind would want to be saddled with a werewolf as their partner for the rest of their life, and the Ministry has put a ban on werewolves having children on their own, claiming that it’s too dangerous without a witch or wizard taking responsibility for the lycanthrope and their child.
If the test is negative he has nothing to worry about. If the test is positive he’ll have to present himself to the werewolf division at the ministry, where he’ll be offered the options of terminating the pregnancy or, if the fetus is human, acting as a surrogate for the next nine months before being forced to put his child up for adoption, the thought of which makes his already upset stomach churn like he’s going to be sick again.
He sighs and pats around the bed for his chocolate bar—finding it pinned beneath his ribcage—and when he peels the wrapper away the chocolate is slightly melted, smearing across his finger tips as he breaks a piece off and pops it into his mouth. He chews mechanically, barely even tasting it as his mind chases itself in circles, and he sets it aside with another sigh before he licks his fingers clean, miserably pulling the blankets up over his head.
He thinks that he’ll maybe take a nap, but his brain refuses to be quiet, turning over all the ways that this could possibly ruin his life when the alarm on his clock starts to chime and he rolls over to silence it, freezing the moment his eyes land on the test kit, his vision blurring as he stares at the brown ring at the bottom of the tube.
It’s positive.
He’s pregnant.
Tears stream down his cheeks as he chokes on a sob, finally reaching out to silence the alarm when one of his flatmates pounds their fist against the wall, disappearing into his blanket cocoon and pressing his face against his pillow as he cries.
When the sun starts to rise outside his bedroom window Remus crawls out of bed and woodenly dresses himself, eyes burning from exhaustion and joints stiff, shouldering his bag and taking one last look at the test—the brown ring still visible—before he picks it up in his hands.
He tip-toes through the common area, quietly pulling the door closed behind him so that he doesn’t disturb his flatmates, tossing the pregnancy test in the bin outside their building as he heads to the telephone box on the corner. He stands inside the box, breathing heavily for a second, before rummaging through his bag until he finds five pence to make a call. He leaves a message on the machine at work that he’s sick and won’t be able to make it in today, which he feels bad about for many reasons but there’s no way he can work his shift right now, coughing a few times to make it sound authentic and offering his weak apologies before he replaces the phone in the cradle.
He stands there for a long moment, staring off into space, before he slips from the box and sets off down the pavement on foot, hands stuffed into his pockets.
He doesn’t know enough about pregnancy to know if it’s safe to apparate and he obviously doesn’t have a floo at his flat, and although he knows that he could take a bus or the tube he thinks that a long walk might do him some good. God fucking knows he doesn’t have any idea of what he’s going to say when he arrives at his destination, or if he should even go there, but the idea of comfort is impossible to resist at the moment, so he hopes that the two hour walk across London will allow him to get his head straight before he arrives.
He stops on the way to buy something to eat, thinking that he really hasn’t had any food since yesterday's breakfast that didn’t stay down, but by the time he makes it to the front of the line the smell is making him feel sick, so he just buys a cup of tea instead. He sips at the weak brew with too much sugar as he plods along again, unable to stop himself from tearing up when he spots a woman with a pram cooing over her adorable, chubby cheeked baby.
By the time he makes it to Camden Town it’s the middle of the morning, the weak sun overhead now blocked out by heavy clouds that leak the occasional rain drop on top of his head, his feet aching and his legs sore as he drags himself up the stairwell of the building Sirius lives in. He heads towards his flat through sheer muscle memory, shivering at the feel of his wards over his skin before he raises his fist and taps his knuckles against the door.
Remus waits for a while, shifting from foot to foot while wondering if Sirius is even home or if he should even be bothering him with this, and just when he’s decided that he’s wasted his time and has started to turn back towards the stairwell the door cracks open behind him.
“Moons?” Sirius asks, voice low and raspy from sleep and looking half-awake as he squints at him from the other side of the threshold, digging the heel of his hand into his eye before he scratches at his bare chest. “What- What are you doing here? What time is it?”
Remus opens his mouth and closes it again as his face crumples, his chest hitching as a sob catches in his throat, and Sirius’ expression turns into alarm as tears start streaming down his cheeks. When his best friend opens his arms he doesn’t hesitate to throw himself at his chest, weeping against his shoulder as he gathers him in close, not even bothering to complain when Sirius lifts him up and carries him into his flat.
“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” Sirius asks quietly when his tears have finally dried, stroking a gentle hand down the length of his back, cheek pressed to Remus’ hair as he holds him against his side. “Moonpie?”
He sniffles and shrugs, turning his face towards Sirius’ neck as he breathes in the calming scent that he’s putting out, the alpha pheromones making the ache in his chest ease for the first time since yesterday afternoon despite the fact that he isn’t his alpha. Sirius would do the same back in school, after they had both presented, sitting as close to him as possible whenever it had been a particularly bad moon or he was approaching his heat, leaning their shoulders together while putting out the gentlest scent that he could manage, and it never once failed to make him feel a little better.
“How about something to eat?” Sirius asks instead, rubbing his shoulder before reaching up to push his tangled, greasy hair back from his face while Remus breathes in the soft scent that he’s emanating, leather and spice and something that reminds him of the air during a thunderstorm. “Or some tea?”
“Okay,” he rasps, reluctantly pulling back so that Sirius can heave himself up off the sofa, watching over the back as he makes his way into the kitchen.
“Toast?” Sirius asks, glancing back at him as he points his wand at the kettle, cups floating down from the cupboard and arranging themselves on the worktop as Remus gnaws on his lower lip, trying to figure out if his stomach will be able to handle it, eventually dipping his chin in a little nod. “What sort of spread do you want? I’ve got butter, marmalade, Marmite, jam-”
“Just plain,” he interrupts when his stomach protests even the idea of anything but plain bread, wincing as Sirius arches a brow at him, hugging his arms around his waist as he watches him prepare two cups of tea and two pieces of dry toast, reaching up with one hand to catch the bread when it zooms towards him. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” Sirius carries their tea over to the sofa by hand and settles beside him again, watching as he nibbles at the crust before holding one of the cups out towards him, prepared exactly to his liking when he takes a sip. “Are you… Are you alright?”
“Not really,” Remus answers, shaking his hand and raising his head when Sirius moves like he’s going to stand. “I’m not hurt or anything, I just…”
He still hasn’t figured out what he’s going to say despite the fact that he’s had plenty of time to figure it out, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he sets his toast and tea aside, reaching up to scrub his hands over his face before he decides to just say it. The words don’t want to come, lodging his throat and choking him, Sirius reaching out to touch his cheek as his eyes well up and spill over again.
“I’m pregnant,” Remus blurts out, voice cracking, and Sirius freezes for a single second before his expression cracks, looking impossibly sad as he shuffles a little closer to him and wraps his other arm around his shoulder.
“Oh, Moons,” he says softly, trying to wipe away Remus’tears until he realizes that they aren’t going to stop, giving up on the endeavor entirely as he guides his head back to his shoulder again. He feels Sirius’ jaw working, mouth opening and closing several times before he lets out a little sound of frustration, muscles going tense beneath his cheek.
“I don’t know who got me pregnant,” Remus says, assuming that that’s what Sirius was trying to ask him, his words coming out weak and shaky. “I don’t- I’m not dating anyone right now, alpha or otherwise. But we all went out to that wizarding club a couple of weeks ago and I started my heat the next day, remember? I assume that’s when it happened. I, um- I hooked up with an alpha while we were there, but I didn’t catch his name and barely even remember what he looks like. Brown hair, maybe, but we were all pretty drunk that night so the details are fuzzy.”
Sirius remains stiff and tense for a few seconds before he huffs out a quiet laugh, hand sliding up to ruffle his hair before he gives it a gentle tug. “Moony, you little slag. Please tell me you weren’t getting your rocks off in the lav, though, that’s disgusting.”
He snorts at Sirius’ teasing tone, reaching for his tea to wash the taste of bile from his mouth, staring down at his cup as he sniffs. “No, it was the alley out back, unfortunately.”
Sirius hums and rubs his cheek against Remus’ hair, angling his chin up as he does, and Remus practically melts as he’s scent marked, setting his tea aside before it can fall from his slack hands. “What do you want to do?”
“About what?” he asks in confusion, already halfway asleep now that he’s calm and relaxed for the first time since yesterday afternoon, exhaustion tugging at him as Sirius nudges beneath his chin to get him to raise his head.
“About the-” Sirius trails off and waves a hand at Remus’ midsection, some of the anxiety and dread creeping back in now that he’s been reminded of his situation, Sirius frowning as he looks down at him. “When do you have to report it to the ministry?”
“I’m supposed to report it as soon as I find out,” he says, wincing as Sirius’ frown deepens, shaking his head as he gnaws his lip. “I don’t- I don’t know. I-”
Remus feels his eyes well up again, letting out a choked sob and ducking down to press his face against Sirius’ bare shoulder, aware that he’s putting out the most miserable scent but he’s past the point of being able to contain it. “Is it bad if I don’t want to terminate or give it up? I just- I know that I can’t keep it, I can’t, but I don’t want to-”
“Hey, no. You can keep your baby, Moons, no one is going to stop you if that’s what you want to do.”
“The fucking minstry will,” he bites out, sitting up and moving away when Sirius tries to shush him, crossing his arms tightly over his aching chest. “You know the law, Pads. Unmarried werewolves aren’t permitted to keep their children. It’s not like I can hide it from them either, my designation is on file and they test me when I go in every month for the post-moon interrogation. I’m going to be offered the options of terminating it or acting as a surrogate before being forced to give up the baby and I just- I don’t-”
“So get married,” Sirius says calmly, his scent giving absolutely nothing away as he turns towards him and stretches his arm out along the top of the sofa, arching a brow when Remus just gapes at him.
“To fucking who?” he asks, giving him a baffled look as he throws his hands up in the air. “Am I supposed to track down the man who knocked me up, whose name and appearance I don’t know, and ask if he wants a husband? Take out an advertisement in the Prophet, perhaps? ‘One pregnant, potentially unemployed, omega werewolf desperately seeking a spouse.’ I can only imagine that people will line up around the block for that opportunity.”
Sirius gives him a flat look, tonguing the inside of his cheek before he looks away, eyes focusing on the wall next to the fireplace. “You could marry me.”
Remus really isn’t sure what he was expecting him to say, but it definitely wasn’t that, freezing in place as he stares at him. “What?”
“Yeah.” Sirius raises one shoulder, still staring off into the distance until he finally turns to look at him, expression unreadable. “Marry me. It’s not like I’m seeing anyone at the moment, we don’t have to mate unless you want to, and then once you have the baby and enough time has passed we can divorce if you like.”
“I-” Remus shakes his head, hardly able to believe what he’s hearing, blinking rapidly as he raises a trembling hand to his mouth. “You can’t be serious. Don’t, I’m not in the mood for your name puns right now. Sirius, you can’t marry me just because I was stupid enough to somehow forget to use the contraceptive charm.”
“Moons, your heat started the very next day, we both know that even if you did remember to cast it—which you probably did—that it wouldn’t have prevented this anyway.” Sirius sighs and reaches up to run a hand through his hair, turning towards him once again. “I am being serious. You want to keep your baby. I have the means to help you do that. I want you to have options, at least. If you decide that you want to terminate, then I’ll go with you and hold your hand during the procedure, or if you want to give them up, I’ll be right here the entire time too.”
Sirius gives him a little smile, his hand on the back of the sofa slipping down to Remus’ shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re one of my best friends, Remus. If you want to keep your baby, I’m here for you. Marrying you isn’t going to be the chore you think it is.”
Remus blinks the tears from his eyes, overwhelmed and unsure of what he should do, turning his gaze towards Sirius’ hand as he sniffs. “Can I think about it?”
“Of course, take all the time you need.” Sirius squeezes his shoulders again, eyes narrowed slightly when he glances up at him. “Did you sleep at all last night? You look exhausted.”
“No. I- I was too upset to sleep. I found out yesterday afternoon and I just- This morning when the sun started coming up, I decided to walk here.”
“You walked?” Sirius asks, looking horrified, waving his hand at the curtains to make them close as he summons a blanket from the basket next to the fireplace, shaking it out as he gestures for Remus to lay down. “C’mon, Moons, you need a nap. I’ll make you something to eat when you wake up, alright?”
“Food isn’t exactly agreeing with me right now,” he grumbles, still crying as he follows Sirius’ instruction and lays down, settling his head against the throw pillow that he pulls into his lap. “Don’t you have to get to work? I don’t want to keep you from your day.”
“No, I’m between cases right now,” Sirius says, draping the blanket over Remus and tucking it down around his body, the warmth of his hand leaching through the thin fabric when he sets it on his side. He waves his wand at the television that’s tucked into the corner, the screen humming quietly before it slowly flickers to life, Sirius adjusting the volume until it’s barely audible. “Is that too loud?”
“No, it’s fine,” he answers, closing his still streaming eyes, letting the quiet warble of the television and the soft sound of Sirius breathing settle over him, humming quietly when Sirius’ hand drags up to play with his hair.
He doesn’t fall asleep, not really, letting Sirius’ scent seep into his nose as his mind turns over the events of the last twenty-four hours, thinking of the life that’s growing inside his body right now. The idea of being pregnant is just… terrifying. Horrifying, really, and he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to endure even more changes to his body over the next nine months, or how his lycanthropy is even going to affect the pregnancy. He doesn’t know if the child will be like him or their father, whose name he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to take care of them. He doesn’t know what the hell he’s meant to do.
He already has his answer though. Some part of him, deep down and buried, had already known what he was going to say the moment Sirius put the offer on the table, he just needed a little bit of time to come around to the idea.
“Pads?” Remus whispers, not opening his eyes, feeling the way Sirius’ fingers pause where they’re carefully working out the tangles in his hair. “I want to keep the baby.”
“Okay,” Sirius says quietly, fingers tightening ever so slightly before they relax again, dragging through his hair before he cups his hand around the back of his head. “We’ll figure out all the details when you wake up, Moons. Go to sleep now, you need to rest.”
He’s asleep before he can even finish speaking.