It was January and Holly Delachene felt awful. She was certain it was more than the stale Christmas cookies she'd eaten earlier and pretty sure it was more than the smell coming out of Anya's diaper. Anya had always had very potent poop - more than she remembered Jasmine having anyway - but it had never made her feel this nauseous.
She held a hand to her nose and another to her roiling stomach. The former was ready to descend swiftly to her mouth should the nausea intensify to a need to throw up, but it hadn't reached that point quite yet. "Raoul, could you get the baby's diaper while I curl up and die?"
Her husband gave her a concerned look which only became more concerned when he saw the greenish pallor of her face. "Sit," he instucted, pointing at the couch, then scooped up the squealing near-two-year-old who immediately started wiggling and shouting "No! No! No! No! No!" but he ignored the toddler in favor of his wife, "I'll take care of this first, but do you want me to call in a mediwitch for you next?"
Holly sank onto the couch with a groan. "It wouldn't hurt," she agreed.
She closed her eyes and tried to block out the crying coming from the changing table as Raoul changed their youngest daughter's diaper without her consent. Holly swore some days the child wasn't happy unless she stank to high heaven.
After a moment, a small soft hand slid into hers and a weight settled on the cushion beside her. "Are you okay, Mommy?" a quiet, worried voice asked.
Holly opened her eyes and forced a smile for her older daughter. "Just a little sick," she reassured, hoping that's all it was. "Mommy's got a bellyache."
Jasmine nodded and squeezed her hand, still looking worried. The five year old had suffered the same thing just before Christmas, so chances were fair that Holly had just caught that. "That was yucky."
Holly's smile became a bit more genuine and warmed in affection. "Yeah. I feel yucky, too."
Jasmine hugged her, and Holly was almost certain it helped somehow. After another minute, a howling whirlwind collided with her knees and held up entreating arms. "Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!"
Holly pulled Anya up into her lap and snuggled the hysterical child. "Shh, princess, its okay now. Your mean old daddy is done changing your diaper," she murmured, giving Raoul a wry look over the tiny heaving shoulder. "You're safe now. And much less smelly."
Raoul patted the girl's unruly blond curls as the sobbing began to recede, then went to the fireplace for a pinch of floo powder.
It was probably twenty minutes after that - Jasmine was now building towers of pink and purple blocks on the floor while trying to defend them from the destructive intentions of her no longer crying sister - when the mediwitch arrived to make her house call. She examined Holly, looked over her medical history, asked a barrage of questions about her symptoms, performed a few diagnostic charms, and reached a conclusion about what was wrong.
"I don't see a prescription for contraceptives here," she remarked once she had. "Do you use any form of birth control?"
Holly gave her an odd look then frowned at the thick folder with her medical details. "I can't concieve," she stated the truth as she knew it. "We tried for years."
The witch smiled gently, "You're not incapable," she corrected. "You just don't ovulate often and when you do, the egg is damaged from some of the medications you took as a child. But not all of your eggs are infertile, just most of them. It looks like you finally ovulated a good one. Congratulations, Mrs. Delachene, you're pregnant."
Holly stared at her in disbelief. "I'm what?"
"You're pregnant."
She was having trouble comprehending the seemingly simple statement. For years, she and Raoul had explored every fertility treatment available to no avail. And now . . . with no effort at all . . .
Her eyes drifted to the girls. Anya was happily smashing apart the last remains of Jasmine's tower, ignoring the grown ups entirely, but Jasmine was listening and her face - her face with no shared features matching her adoptive parents' - showed uncertainty and perhaps even a little bit of fear. She had been too young when she came to live with them to remember her biological parents, but she knew she was adopted, she was old enough to understand that she had become a Delachene because biological baby Delachenes were not possible. She had been excited and happy when they brought home Anastasia, and had even helped pick out her new sister from the available options at the wizarding adoption agency they'd used for both girls, but now she seemed to feel her place in the family was threatened.
Holly held out an arm to the child and Jasmine flew into her embrace, moving fast enough to make Holly wonder if accidental magic was involved, and then she had an arm and lap full of Kindergartner. Holly kissed her head and held her tight, wordlessly assuring the child that this changed nothing. Jasmine was and always would be Holly's special princess.
"I, I don't," she looked at Raoul, who was looking as gobsmacked as she felt, though he was equally clearly in the process of recovering as a broad warm loving smile began to bloom across his face as he looked back at her. "We," she had no idea what she was trying to say but something was trying to break through and form on her tongue.
She looked at the witch again. "But we were only going to have two," she protested, as if this happening was somehow the woman's fault.
"Well, now you'll have three," the mediwitch said simply.