Oh Mother ((Closed)) [PG-13]

[Dakota Fox S6]

((Rated PG-13 for language and implied adult subjects. Please continue reading at your own discretion.)

((Set in April, during the Easter holidays, after When Darkness Falls, Porcelain Doll and Discretion Is My Business.))

"Miss Fox? ... Miss Fox?"

"What?"

"Breakfast has commenced, Miss Fox."

"Tell them I'll be there in five minutes."

At the sound of the house elf's light steps fading down the hallway, Dakota bent her head over the toilet and retched again. Vomit spluttered from her lips, straining down the blemished white varnish of the ceramic as straggled strands of dirty blonde trailed limply past her pale cheeks. Dakota's eyes were dulled and listless; dark bags like shadows underneath indicated lack of sleep and fatigue. Her hands trembled against the seat of the lavatory as she struggled to pull herself up from her slumped position on the her ensuite-bathroom floor. "S***," she swore, one hand flying to clutch her head at the bludgeoning headache. The pain in her chest merely intensified simulatenously and she groaned. "Oh s***!"

Wiping her mouth with a quickly discarded tissue, Dakota gave one final empty retch and flushed the toilet, watching the remnants of her void stomach disappear in a wash of water. She cradled herself vulnerably to the sink, where she washed her mouth thoroughly with disgusting-blue-coloured Listerine. Spewing the liquid down the drain, Dakota blinked blearily through bloodshot eyes that immediately gave away the fact she had been sobbing her heart out for the past hour - ever since she had woken up this morning at 5 a.m. and, for the third day in a row, thrown up violently.

There was little doubt the reason for her sudden illness. Dakota wasn't stupid. She hadn't had her period for three months - hadn't even noticed until the vomiting had started because she'd been so stressed and angry, so caught up with Stephen Stephen Stephen. But when the morning sickness arrived, Dakota had known. On the first day she had rushed to the bathroom and emptied her stomach into the toilet she had known instantly she was in deeper trouble than she had realised. How could she not have thought of it back in January, when it had happened? Had she been too bent on revenge, on her anger towards Stephen, that she hadn't even considered the possibility of becoming pregnant?

Yesterday evening, Dakota had checked. Just to be sure. She had researched the spell in a book - simple, quick, 100% certain. She had prayed for a negative. But when she saw the positive result, Dakota's heart had sank and she had burst into tears. No, no, NO! She couldn't be pregnant! She couldn't, absolutely couldn't be! But she was, and this morning's retching was further evidence to prove that Dakota was in fact three months' along with a child. Her child. Hers and Stephen Donahue's child.

Dakota gave a whimper at the dying reflection in her mirror as it cracked with the tears overflowing her eyes. Oh Christ. She was going to be a mother.

[Dakota Fox S6]

Dakota Padme Fox was absolutely not going to be a mother. There were several reasons for this. One: she was a Fox. If Dakota didn't want to lose her heritage and family, along with its wealth and fame, she could not reveal to her parents that she was with child. Two: she was sixteen. Barely. People had brains; they could calculate math. It was obvious her child, when given birth to, had been conceived around the time she had turned sixteen - and then no doubt there would be speculation of underage issues. Three: children had parents, not parent. Dakota didn't even want to consider Stephen as a father. He was unfit for parenthood, he was the last thing Dakota would consider as the father to her child, and even if she did forgive him for his treachery, Stephen would probably kill the baby in their sleep. She wouldn't put it past him. She wanted the to raise a human being in a real family. Even though the child was only three months' conceived, Dakota was already attached enough to the entity in her womb to feel a desire to protect it from the wrath of its evil father, or from any other harm that could come from all sources - perhaps ever her own father. A bastard child, that was what it would be. And that led to four: Dakota was not married. This would be a baby born out of wedlock, and not only was that against Fox tradition and honour, it was not customary for her generation in general. Dakota would never be able to face the world with dignity again. And finally, five: she couldn't look after it. She wasn't a mother, she was a frightened sixteen-year-old. She didn't want a child, she'd wanted a future!

And that was why Dakota stood outside a daunting building that rainy afternoon, dressed in black with a shawl draped concealingly over her head and face. Her eyes, haunted and scared, fell on the sign overhead. Clinic. Clinic. Swallowing painfully, Dakota gathered her wits and stepped inside. Just like she'd imagined, the place was white - pure burning white - and utterly spotless. It was like it had been steralised from top to toe - from the plain, drab walls to the uniform of the cranky old woman who greeted her at the reception desk with a terse snap. "Yes?"

"Uh..." Dakota's voice was small and quiet; a change after sixteen years. "My name is, um, D... Dara Grey." Her nervous eyes flittered like paranoid ants around the room, where to the left a few women were seated. Oh God.

"Take a seat, Miss Grey," came the gruff reply of the receptionist, handing Dakota a sheaf of lengthy parchment. "Read this. The doctor will call you in due time." Dazedly, Dakota followed the woman's instructions and wandered across to the waiting area unsteadily, slipping into a lone seat in the corner. The parchment rested in her trembling hands as her eyes swept the other people with her. Most were young women, also alone, but looking more nonchalant than nervous. There was a couple - or rather, what seemed to be a couple, since they were man and woman side by side. They looked slightly less indifferent than the rest, more tense than afraid, though. Hardly reassured by her fellow abortionists, Dakota swallowed, mouth dry, and glanced over the details.

'The spells required to remove the foetus are rather complex... Please be aware that the procedure will be quite short but painful...' Oh crap. Dakota felt sweat forming along her brow. Oh God. Pain. On her own. The trembling of her hand grew worse. Her eyesight blurred and she couldn't concentrate. Looking up in panic, Dakota stared like a frightened animal around the room again, at those emotionless faces, the cold atmosphere, the death in the room. Suddenly, the voice of the receptionist trilled over the tannoy, causing Dakota to jump violently. No one seemed to notice, though, keen on listening to the announcement. A name was called - not Dakota's, not 'Dara Grey' - and everyone settled into tense silence once more as one girl - woman - got up and made her way towards the doctor's room.

Dakota watched her back disappear with rising panic. This was right, right? To get rid of this unwanted baby was what she wanted. It was everything she wanted. The last thing Dakota wanted in her life was to give birth to Stephen Donahue's child.

[Dakota Fox S6]

Stephen Donahue's child. What would his child be? A monster, like his father? Dakota was scared. She didn't want to give birth to a monster; she didn't want to bring a monster into a world filled with monsters like Stephen, like her father, like herself. Stephen Donahue wasn't a father and she wasn't a mother. I can't think that it's a child, Dakota thought uncertainly. It's not alive yet. It's only been three months... It's not alive! This isn't murder. Dakota had never before considered the ethics of abortion. When proposed the question of would she abort a child if she fell pregnant before the age of eighteen, Dakota had snorted unfeelingly and said, "Of course I would. I would abort it before I was twenty-five. A baby would only get in the way of my life." She hadn't batted an eyelid, imagining destroying the thing inside her body. To her, a baby had meant nothing. It was an object or be used to left behind, just like everything and everyone else in her life.

Dakota's eyes fluttered shut as she buried her head in her hands, escaping the drab, grey sight of the other patients around her, waiting to have their children destroyed, one by one. Tears found their way to Dakota's bloodshot eyes, even though she demanded they dry over and over; they kept coming, like the vengeance of her soon-to-be-dead child. Her baby, her flesh and blood. Dakota felt a lump block her throat. This foetus was once herself; she had once lain in her mother's stomach, waiting to take her first breath of air, waiting to live. If her parents had decided they hadn't wanted a fifth child they could have aborted her, and she wouldn't have existed. But instead, they had chosen to give her the gift of life, and here she was today... about to take that gift of life away.

Dakota had never held the capacity to feel. She had emotions, of course - she threw angry (childish) tantrums and she could laugh at an amusing joke. However, she had never been able to sympathise or empathise with other human beings, or any sentient creatures for that matter. All her life Dakota had lived under the naive and selfish impression that everything was about her, that she controlled the world and not vice versa. However, Stephen had shattered that notion, leaving Dakota empty, but also raw; she could feel emotions she had never been able to experience - sadness, sorrow, genuine anger, genuine desire for revenge. Dakota rarely cried, but over the last week she had cried more than she had all her life. It was as though her mind was at last assaulting her for the last sixteen years of repression. Try as she might, the thought of aborting her child did not fill her with relief, but pure horror and pain. A pain which extended into her chest and hurt what she could only describe as her heart.

But I'm heartless. Dakota's eyes peeled open to stare at the parchment she had only leafed through once, and briefly. The terrifying words leapt at her from the page - abortion, certain, procedure, repurcussions, pain, pain, pain. Dakota swallowed a whimper and stopped reading again. She was scared. She was a coward. She couldn't do this. But not only that; Dakota couldn't face killing - because that was what it was, she knew that was what it was - her baby. Her baby, her flesh and blood. It would be wrong, her every bone screamed it. Dakota was a lot of things but she wasn't a murderer, not of her own family. She was better than Stephen; Stephen who she would kill, who she had been planning on exacting revenge upon for weeks. But right now, this child was more important; this child she had been planning on murdering too, to forget the identity of its father, to absolve herself in the most unforgivable way.

Unbeknownst to Dakota, almost an hour had passed as she sat, a ghost, in the waiting ward. No more women came, but slowly, each and every patient had stood up when their name was called and left. Eventually, only Dakota remained there, bowed head and trembling jaw. Just as Dakota stood abruptly, causing the sheafs of parchment to fall to the floor, the receptionist's voice echoed across the room. "Dana Grey, the doctor is ready to see you." Dakota's eyes grew wide, like a baby deer caught in headlights, as she stood in the empty space, trapped by invisible barriers that echoed her conscience, chaos at her feet. It took ten seconds for Dakota to jerk awake from her terrified trance and, without a backwards glance, ran out of the building, ignoring the sharp, stern, reprimanding stare of the receptionist, the echoes of her alias in her ears, into the pouring rain.

My baby. My baby.

[Dakota Fox S6]

((Featuring Dakota's mother, Lauren Fox.))

Dakota was drenched by the time she found her way home. She hurried inside, desperate not to be seen, only to be accosted by Fredo, the family house elf. "Miss Fox," he squeaked - irritatingly high-pitched even after sixteen years of Dakota's taunts, "your mother has been asking for you for over an hour." As an obedient, timid house elf, Fredo would never dare say the words, "And your mother would not be best pleased to see you in such a condition", but speaking them was unnecessary, for they hung in the air in Dakota's glare at Fredo.

"Get me a towel, you idiot. Don't just stand there!" At Dakota's snap Fredo disappeared in a puff of smoke, apparating to retrieve a towel as Dakota stood in the entrance hallway of the Fox mansion, shivering from the freezing-cold rain. Moments later a fluffy sheep-wool towel was draped over her shoulders, whilst she ran another through her dripping hair. Pulling out her wand, Dakota's teeth chattered through the spell that dried her clothes and hair, though she still felt the rain clinging to her skin. Shuddering, she longed for a bath, but knew her mother would have to come first. Throwing the wet towels over Fredo, Dakota did her best to straighten her appearance and walked as normally as possible into the main living.

"Mum." Dakota tried a greeting smile at the figure seated on the leather armchair, chatting pleasantly with another woman opposite. The conversation ceased and Dakota's mother looked up at her daughter's entrance. There was little doubt the two women were related; Dakota had inherited her mother's golden-blonde hair, although her green eyes were courtesy of her father, as Lauren Fox had piercing icy-blue eyes. "You asked for me? I went out to buy some materials for School," Dakota lied through her teeth smoothly. Somehow, deceiving her mother was extremely easy. Lauren had never been the brightest match in the box at school - a Slytherin graduate like her husband - and Dakota had always had her way with her. In fact, she rarely had to try, since Lauren made such little effort to know about her children's lives and well-being. For Dakota, she was just an older figure in her life; someone to borrow clothes off, ask for fashion tips... but no more than that. There was no love between them and Dakota had never pined for it. Her father, Roland, on the other hand, was a bigger handful. Dakota had to work for his affection, make him notice her amongst her four talented older brothers. Roland was very fond of Dakota and she knew there was little he wouldn't do to make her happy. But he would never go as far as dishonour the Fox name with the knowledge of her pregnancy - bearing an illegitimate child. Lying to Roland would be infinitely harder than Lauren.

"Dakota, your father has departed for France. He will be away for a few weeks on business." Relief spread through Dakota, though she retained a straight, expressionless visage for her mother and her guest, and instead nodded her understanding. "If you need anything, ask Fredo. I also wanted you to say hi to Claire. Claire, my daughter, Dakota. She's grown, hasn't she? The last time you saw her was at Roland's house party a few years ago. Dakota hasn't been attending them for a long time. School keeps her busy. She's going to be a little star, just like all my boys." Lauren turned to Dakota and flashed her a proud smile that was more self-indulgent than motherly. After fellow high-class snob Claire had flowered over Dakota's beauty and striking resemblance to her mother, Lauren addressed her daughter once more. "Claire's come over with her granddaughter! Isn't it grand?" she exclaimed. "Her daughter's had a daughter. Come and say hi, Dakota."

Dakota froze at her mother's words. Child? What child? Her wild eyes roved the lounge until they rested on the basket carrier hidden behind Claire's body beside her on the sofa. A tremor ran through Dakota's wrist, and she stilled it by pressing her nails into her palm strong enough to draw blood. As Lauren stood and, after carefully taking hold of the baby sitting peacefully in the carrier, sat down again with her in her arms. "Her name's Lisa. She's Grace's daughter. You remember Grace, don't you? She gave birth only a few weeks ago, and I said to Claire, I simply must meet your darling granddaughter!" Lauren cooed fondly at baby Lisa. "You're so lucky, Claire. To be a grandmother so early! I wish I could be a grandmother now. How I wish Roland - my son - would settle down and marry soon. But he's his father's son - always 100% dedication to his work and country." As Lauren chattered on to Claire, Dakota sat nervously down in an armchair a little away from the three, openly staring at the baby in her mother's arms. She was small, tiny really, with round brown eyes and a tuft of brunette hair. She was dressed in typical baby's clothing, made of soft pink that signified her gender. Dakota felt her heart ache in her chest. Oh God.

"One day, ten years' time, this will be Dakota's child," Lauren announced through her daughter's thoughts. "I want grandchildren so much. You don't know how lucky you are, Claire, I do envy you so. Merlin knows how many more years I'll have to wait for my children to marry and have children of their own!" Without pausing for breath, Lauren suddenly stood up towards Dakota. Before she knew it, Lisa was placed in her arms. "Say hi, Dakota, for Merlin's sake! I know you don't like babies very much, but Lisa really is a darling. An absolutely perfect child." Moving away, Lauren sat again and turned back to Claire, jabbering away about names for grandchildren and the birthing process. Too shocked too speak, Dakota merely stared in fear at the baby staring right back in her arms. Oh s***.

"And I said to Roland, I didn't want a fifth child!" Lauren's demanding voice once more filled Dakota's thoughts as she clung onto the baby, unable to let go yet unable to do anything but stare dumbly at the entity in her arms. "Four was quite enough. But Roland convinced me that if we had a daughter I could have a mini me! That quite sealed the deal for me. I'd always wanted a daughter, my perfect little girl. Four boys would drive anyone loopy, right?" Lauren gave a charming, sparkling smile as Lisa squirmed. "Don't get me wrong, labour isn't exactly to die for, and I never wanted to be a mother in the first place, but it became a little bit addictive, you know what I mean? They just came, one after another." She threw her beautiful head of blonde back and laughed. "I couldn't stop them. Roland is quite the fox when he wants to be, Claire."

Unable to listen anymore and feeling the threatening feeling of sick overwhelming her, Dakota suddenly stood up and, as though burned by her, dropped the baby as quickly as she could into her grandmother's arms. "I-I'm sorry," she stammered, already turning to leave, trying not to run, run, run. "I promised Pyro Blackfire I would meet with him tonight, to hold discussions... about my future in politics and how he could help me." Indeed, perhaps Dakota of the past would have been doing so this evening, but she had no such plans except curl into a ball on her bed and rock herself to sleep. Lauren sent her daughter an odd, confused look, before smiling.

"Of course, Dakota darling. Have a good time."

Bowing her head respectively, Dakota as much as flew from the room, pushing past a jittery Fredo and rushing upstairs to her room. High-pitched laughter and words rang in her ears.

Never wanted to be a mother... One after another... An absolutely perfect child... My perfect little girl... A little star... Dakota in ten years' time... I do envy you so... I wish I could be a grandmother now.

[Dakota Fox S6]

"Miss Fox--"

"I know how to get to King's Cross, Fredo, I'm not six years old!"
I'm going to be a mother, for God's sake!

"But your mother--"

"Screw what my mother says or wants! She doesn't give a damn about me!" Dakota pushed the house elf out of the way as she stormed out of the mansion, sending him falling unceremoniously to the fall. He could only stare in horror as his mistress shut the door in his face. "She can't even send her own daughter off, for God's sake!" came the final echo of her voice as it faded away.

Lauren was at a socialite women's party. Roland was in France on a business trip. Roland Junior had been in Germany for months on behalf of the Ministry. Paul was cooped in his science laboratory, probably searching for the cure for cancer. Jacob was trailing the streets of London day and night, catching criminals. And Lucas, only six months into his job working at the Ministry like his father and brother, was flying to Italy tonight for his first assignment. That left Dakota to travel to Platform Nine and Three Quarters alone.

The neglect didn't hurt. Why should it? It had never hurt before. Dakota had been used to being left by herself; she had appreciated that her family were busy, intelligent people, and one day she thought she would be the same. Anyway, she didn't need them. She would show her Daddy that she was just as strong as her brothers. But as Dakota stalked through her front door and towards the waiting transport, tears sprung to her eyes. For the first time, it truly hit her how cold her family was; how devoid of love and warmth and family it was. This wasn't a family, it was a circle of people joined by blood. They didn't share family meals, didn't go on family vacations. They all did their own individual, ambitious things in life and didn't give a single thought about other people. That was the sort of person Dakota had been, the sort of person who had would give birth to a child.

She would tell no one. No one would know of this - not her family, not Pyro Blackfire, and certainly not Stephen Donahue. This was Dakota's secret and she would take it to her grave. She would give birth to her child, she would give it the gift of life - perhaps the only gift Dakota had ever given in her life. "I will love you... I promise," she whispered to her stomach as the car veering through London found its way to King's Cross (bloody muggle transport, the only way to travel undetected in the capital). Dakota let herself out carefully, slamming the door shut. She had no pet with her; no trunk. All her belongings had remained at School, she hadn't needed to take them home with her. Anything she'd needed she'd gotten Fredo to send for.

Clutching her cloak around her body tighter, Dakota swept through the wall into Platform Nine and Three Quarters, glad of the lowered attention she was gathering from her odd dressage. However, very soon classmates' eyes were on her and Dakota felt herself shrink beneath them. Taking a deep breath and holding her stomach protectively beneath her cloak, Dakota stepped onto the Express and didn't look back.

((Continued in I Stand Alone.))