Word of the fate of Regulus Black came some time later, and Gwen was not sure how Sirius reacted to it, as she had not seen nor heard from him since that Order meeting. He'd of course written James once or twice since the news of Regulus's death, though enchanted the post so Gwen's eyes could not see it.

     "He's just.." James tried searching for the right word to use without hurting Gwen's feelings for a moment, after opening the third letter from Sirius regarding his brother's death. "He's trying to grieve and I don't know if Remus is allowing him to do that outwardly."

     "What?" snapped Gwen, finding the whole thought ridiculous. "Remus isn't letting him be sad? That's nonsense. Something must've been lost in transl—"

     "Blah blah.. Ah, here, 'Remus keeps saying to man up,'" James quoted, eyes skimming the note. He raised an eyebrow to Gwen. "Nonsense?"

     Gwen risked another glimpse at the message, though of course it befuddled itself right up, letters jumbling around and hopping across the page the moment she laid eyes on it. She huffed a frustrated sigh.

     "This is ridiculous," she said, angrily, reaching for her coat. "My mate's brother's just been murdered by You-Know-Who and he's ignoring me about some foolish little thing Peter's said—"

     James's eyes darkened. "What did Peter say?"

     "We're going to Sirius's," was her reply, and she tossed James his wand. "You ought to keep that with you, James, we're in the midst of a war. Now c'mon, buck up. Best foot forward."

     Baffled, James caught his wand and tucked it into his jacket's pocket, following Gwen as she whirled out into the cool March night and readied herself for Apparation. She planted her feet shoulder-width apart and lifted her chin, only sparing James a glance when she realised his hand was not on her shoulder.

     "We're going, James," she said again, impatiently. "Come on."

     "I really don't think we're welcome, Gwen," said James warily.

     Gwen's eyes narrowed to slits. He'd said 'we' but it was clear, by the uneven shifting of his weight between his feet and his refusal to meet her glare, that she was the one not welcome in Sirius's home, for whatever bloody reason she could not think of.

     "We're going," she repeated, and the insistence of her tone was enough for James to sigh and place a hand round her arm.

     A twisty, topsy, turvy moment later, they stumbled behind themselves to find a run-down little flat on the very corner of a quaint street called Humphrey Tree Lane. There were only two lights on in the windows, and Gwen could hear raised voices from inside—she spared a glance to James, before they rushed to the door.

     "It's James Potter," he announced of himself the moment Gwen swung the door open, "husband to Gwendolyn Potter, all-time best Gryffindor Seeker, and Marauder by the name of Prongs."

     "And Gwendolyn," she added, searching her mind for any identification she could describe of herself. "Wife to James Fleamont Potter. Er.. What else, James—? Oh, I'm very pregnant—"

     "We believe you," came a dry voice, and Remus rounded the corner to lean against the wall. He did not welcome the couple inside nor tell them to make themselves at home. Instead he glanced Gwen up and down. "What's got you stopping by so unannounced, Potters?"

     Suddenly feeling quite scrutinized beneath Remus's judgmental glare, Gwen looked to James for support as she cleared her throat and made to explain herself. "I'm here to see Sirius."

     Remus hesitated for only a moment before he craned his head around the corner he'd just appeared from. "Yeah, don't think he's up for a chat right now. Come back late—"

     "Out of my way, Lupin," said Gwen, in a hostile manner she had never once reserved for Remus and that brought a stab of guilt to her chest—though when he scowled down at her and shoved her by the shoulder on her way round him, the guilt simmered more on the side of anger.

     Their flat was a right mess.

     On a normal basis, perhaps, it could have felt homey: There was one living room in which a somewhat cosy-looking couch resided, along with a few armchairs that looked fresh out of the Gryffindor common room. On either side of the couch were two doors each leading to a different bedroom, though one of the doors was opened and the room looked entirely uninhabited. There were books and clothes strewn haphazardly all over the place, and sitting at the kitchen table with his back to Gwen was Sirius Black.

     "You shouldn't've come," was his only greeting.

     "We're worried about you, Padfoot," said James, fondly, only being himself and trying his best not to allow an altercation to break out on his watch. "Gwen's heard about your brother."

     "How's that supposed to affect me?" demanded Sirius, spinning around to reveal a sort of mad look to himself. "I don't give a damn if she knows about him. Frankly I'd be surprised if she didn't!"

     "The hell is that supposed to mean?" said Gwen. She heard a throat cleared from behind her and realised Remus was just on her heels; almost like a guard dog. Shifting so her hand was just barely brushing her wand in her front pocket, she scowled at Sirius. "Surely you're not implying something, Sirius?"

"Of course not," he replied scathingly. "I just meant, Prongs, we wouldn't want your precious wife to be exposed to the atrocities of war, would we—?"

     James, however mediating he had originally attempted to present himself, lost all composure at the thought of Sirius insulting Gwen. He was the first to draw his wand. "You're out of your mind, Sirius."

     "Watch it," said Remus warningly, and though he did not draw his own wand, the mere act of drawing up to his full height was intimidating enough to get James to lower his. "There's no need for this to get violent, is there?"

     "And you'd know all about that," shot Sirius.

     Suddenly Gwen did not understand whose side she was on. She'd presumed, from the fact that Remus had jumped to his aide, that Sirius was on his side—though such a cruel comment could only come from someone who has it out. Gwen blinked, nonplussed, all of a sudden very lost.

     "Wait," she said, slowly. "You two are in a row?"

     "No," said both Sirius and Remus, who proceeded to shoot contemptuous glares toward each other.

     "What on earth over?" demanded Gwen, furious. "We're at war with Voldemort and you're in a little couple's spat—?"

     "Oh, but that's just it," said Remus, lip curling in a scowl. "Voldemort."

     "Okay," said James, after a very drawn-out pause. "Can we just drop everything and be flat-out, please? I'm a bit lost over all this subtext, you lot know I don't do well on picking up cues—"

     "'S'okay, James," said Gwen, watching Sirius and Remus glare cross the room at each other. "I think I know what's going on."

     "Oh, you do, do you?" snapped Sirius impatiently. "You think you know everything!"

     "I couldn't agree more," said Gwen. "I—"

     "You're the most impertinent person I've ever bloody met," spat Sirius, as he crossed the room at alarming speed to the door of his bedroom. "You aren't perfect, Gwen. You don't know everything, you think you do. That's what'll get you killed one day."

     And he slammed the door shut with a deafening crack.

     There followed a dense silence in which James stared, dumbfounded, at Gwen.

     "Well," she said finally. "That was quite rude, don't you think, Remus?"

"Get out of my house, Gwen."

But she planted herself in front of him, and was, for once, thankful for her own height—she was only about a half a head beneath Remus, which made glaring at him all the easier. "I'm not leaving until you—"

     "I said, get out," he snarled. "There's Inferi lurking round these parts; hope none of them catch you on the way out."

     "No, you prat," demanded Gwen, standing her ground much more resolutely than she would had this been any other person in the world. She just felt an inclination toward Remus, to not leave him without clearing whatever this mess was; She could leave Sirius, sure, but Remus's harshness would not go unattended to.

     "Tell me," she insisted, squaring herself before him. "If Sirius wants to be a sissy, not tell me why he's cross, then fine. But you, Remus—this is wildly out of character, and I expect you to at least tell me why before you shunt me off your property. Why, Remus? What have I done to you? What is it with this sudden coward—"

     "Don't call me that!" he said, now at the top of his voice, whirling round on Gwen furiously. "You have no right to call me a coward when you're the one betraying the Order!"

     "Remus," said James, butting in, putting himself between them and staring up at his friend in bewilderment. "What in Godric's name are you on about, man?"

     "She's the bloody spy!" he exploded, as though the words had been trying to burst forth from him for a long time coming. With a mad gesture to Gwen, and the pissed look in his eye, she almost thought he was pulling her leg—but his chest was heaving and he looked positively mental. "How can't you see it, Potter? She's the one selling information to the Death Eaters—"

     "Remus," said Gwen, voice entirely too level for someone who had just been accused of being a spy for Voldemort. "Remus, where did you get that idea? Did someone.. tell you to think that?"

     For a moment, he did not say anything. He only watched Gwen with a dubious glint to his glare.

     "Remus," she said again, more forcefully. "Did someone put that in your head? That I could—that I could be the spy?"

     Again, he did not say anything for a beat. Then he jerked his head in a fraction of a nod.

     "It was Peter, wasn't it?"

     "Peter?" repeated James, bemused. "What's he got to do with this? And, Remus, I don't see where on earth you get off, accusing Gwen of—"

     "It was Peter," said Gwen again, "wasn't it, Remus?"

     Wordlessly, Remus's eyes shifted across Gwen. He seemed to be reading her further than the expression on her face, almost as though he could see through her mind, and everything seemed to click. His face cleared in the slightest; his eyes, at the least, flickered with recognition. Gwen was not a threat. He was mad for thinking so. This realisation seemed to dawn on him all at once, and he took a half-step back, shocked with himself.

     "He talked to Sirius the other day," he whispered, almost to himself. "While I was out. That was when Sirius began acting strange toward me."

     "You think he blamed you of being the spy?" said James, raising his eyebrows. "I... don't understand. Why would he—?"

     "That's the goblin-gold question, isn't it?" said Gwen, lips parted in a half smile of complete shock. "That's what he did to me, when I went to visit the other day. He— ouch!"

She keeled forward, clutching her stomach. A great cramp, a blinding pain, a sharp intake of breath. Something was wrong; it had to be. This was perhaps the worst pain she had ever felt, and it was coming from her lower belly, possibly the worst point of origination for any pain to be from. It was coming from the baby.

     "Gwen," said James hurriedly, reaching out to hold her immediately, "what is it, love? What's the matter? Is something wrong?"

     "It's the baby," she managed, face contorted with pain. "Oh, I think there's something very wrong, James, it hurts—it hurts quite bad, actually—"

     "Oh." Remus's face had gone sheet-white. "I think I may know what it is."

via speaks!
happy birthday harry