Nothing's Easy (Voltaire)

[Isabella Rothschild]

Isabella sat at her desk in her office, staring down at the essays from her fifth year students. She was trying to concentrate, but her eyes kept glazing over as her mind turned to thoughts of Voltaire and Conor and the girls. It seemed like every time things seemed to be going well, something would come along to remind them that there was a war going on outside of Hogwarts, and that they were in a dangerous position.

Betraying the Dark Lord had consequences, Isa had accepted that, but she had made the only choice she could make. She could no longer devote her life to the evil and hatred of a man so wholly incapable of love, not now that she had learned what it was to love. Voltaire had changed her life completely, and she was glad for it, even if it meant that she had to look over her shoulder for the rest of her life. She never wanted to go back to being the person she once had been.

But sometimes she wished it could be easier. She wished she didn't have to raise her son and her adopted daughters with this shadow hanging over her head. Having to defend her family against attacks--such as the most recent one, when the vampire plotted to attack them right here in the castle--was getting tiresome and frustrating. But she knew that she would fight to the death to protect any of her family. That was the difference between her and Voldemort--she now knew that there were some things worth dying for.

Finally deciding that she was never going to finish grading the essays at this rate, Isabella closed them up into the file and got up from her desk, moving into the room beyond, where Voltaire was getting Conor ready for bed. She loved watching her husband and son together, and she stood in the doorway quietly for a moment, just watching them.

[Voltaire Rothschild]

Voltaire was finishing the evening routine with Conor, he was cradling him in a soft cotton blanket, gently bouncing him in his arms. They were so lucky he wasn't a terribly fussy child, the way other people spoke of babies, all they did was scream. Conor just seemed content in anyone's arms and usually stayed napping if their was music playing or he was swaddled correctly. Voltaire felt a pair of familiar eyes watching from the door and he looked up from his son's drowsy face to see his wife in the doorway.

Lucky didn't even begin to cover it. She was unlikely lover and ironically natural mother for a woman that came from a home of real pain. Voltaire was coming into the realization that he was his family's agitator for no other reason than to go against the grain, but he was dealing with it by throwing himself into being a father. He smiled at her, body bathed in warm yellow light from mounted lanterns of the room. He lowered his elbow to show her the half aware face of their son and grinned at her like he actually had something to do with it, rather than their son being a model child and being sleepy on cue.

He wordlessly beckoned her closer, never losing the smile on his face. They had over come so much to get to this point, it would all be worthless to throw away these quiet moments over worry. Even if they did just escape a mad Vampire, he had to admit she wasn't nearly as bad as the Dark Lord.

[Isabella Rothschild]

Isabella returned his smile, looking from his face to that of their son. It still stunned her sometimes that they had created something so beautiful and perfect, and it made her want to pinch herself to see that this was all real.

She had never imagined anything like this would have been possible for her when she was growing up. While most little girls fantasized about their weddings and played with baby dolls, waiting for the day they would be caring for the real thing, Isabella had never dreamed of these things. Marriage and parenthood had meant something very different to her growing up. It was cold and lonely, lacking in love and support and anything good. But she was determined that Conor's life would be different; he would want for nothing and know what love meant.

Moving closer to the two of them, she leaned her head against Voltaire's shoulder, trying not to disturb Conor.

[Voltaire Rothschild]

Voltaire felt an enormous sense of comfort feeling his wife next to him. He shifted his little bundle of his son's body in his arms and gently bumped his body toward Isa. He wanted to hold on to this moment of peace. At this moment there wasn't a life and death struggle, or any other of the mental problems that seemed to happen in their complicated lives as ex-deatheaters and now as professors.

Voltaire leaned his head towards hers and felt the soft 'thunk' of his head bumping hers.
" Love you." he whispered to her as he kissed her hair.

[Isabella Rothschild]

Everything was perfect. Isa closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of baby powder and listening to the soft sounds of her husband and baby breathing in and out. Maybe their lives weren't perfect, with the Dark Lord out to get them and Voltaire's memory problems, but it was much closer to perfection than anything Isa could have ever dreamed about. She never would have imagined that life could be this way, and despite the danger, she knew she wouldn't have changed her decision for anything in the world.

"I love you, too," she answered softly.

She looked down at her sleeping son and kissed the top of his head. "Why don't you go put him down for the night, and I'll make us some tea?"