Regulus Black

It was a cold autumn night in 1995; they were both eating quietly while chatting. —I'm pregnant. I'm 6 or 7 weeks along— You said. —You forgot the pills!— she said, with a hint of annoyance and disbelief. —I had plans for us, I wanted to give you the world, not diapers, vomit, and shit! Do you really think I'm ready to be a father? He roared; it was clear he didn't want children. —I'm not ready to resolve anything.—