Chapter 2: Alias Diana Miller
Emma Swan was never one for sentimentality. You learned very early on in the foster system not to become attached to things, but she was starting to become attached to one Harry Potter.
She sighed as she looked at her quasi boyfriend's sleeping form.
Emma knew she was being silly. Harry eventually would go back to England; he had a life there, a destiny. A very stupid destiny that she was trying to get him to ditch, but she knew guys like Harry. And she'd be on the streets again, trying to live day by day.
The last home had been the worst. Even more horrible than her experience with that Ingrid woman had been. She hated the way Ralph looked at her, and his wife was no help. In fact, if anything she blamed Emma for Ralph's advances.
This was why Emma had no guilt about taking all their petty cash and flying to New York. Although, in retrospect she probably could've picked a cheaper city to go to and would have taken the bus, but at the time all she wanted to do was get away.
Thank God she ran into Harry and he was letting her stay in his room, but Emma knew this wasn't forever. She couldn't get used to the plush bed that she shared with her holiday boyfriend. Or the fact that Harry seemed to have no care in the world when it came to money.
When he saw that Emma had literally had nothing, he didn't even blink an eye at spending money on a new wardrobe for her. Or tickets to a hot show on Broadway. Or fancy dinners. Or really anything.
A part of her couldn't help but feel a little jealous. She knew about Harry's circumstances, but she still couldn't help but feel that he had more than her, even though he never acted like that.
This whole thing on one hand felt ridiculous to her. They were both teenagers. Teenagers who were sharing a hotel room and acting like rich twenty somethings who were living off of their trust fund. And maybe Harry technically was living off of a trust fund, but Emma wasn't. Sooner or later she would have to face reality.
And she found that sooner happened earlier than she expected.
Emma was late.
She was almost never late, but this time she was. Also, the fact that she couldn't stomach breakfast in the morning without feeling nauseated added enough to her fears for her to buy a pregnancy test.
She was hoping that it would be negative. She and Harry were seventeen, way too young to be parents. Technically, she was still a ward of the state.
But six tests and a quick trip to a clinic confirmed her worst fears. She was knocked up. She knew she had options and was seriously considering them, but a part of her really wanted this baby.
By all accounts she knew she should terminate, it made the most sense. She couldn't afford prenatal care let alone child raising expenses, and it would be best for everyone. Harry might've been loaded, but he was a UK citizen and eventually would have to go back to Britain. And for that matter, they were both seventeen.
But this baby was also Emma's chance at having a family.
She wondered how she could tell Harry about her pregnancy. They had only known each other for roughly six weeks. And they had only been intimate for a little bit over a month. Not exactly ideal, but it was her longest relationship that she had.
Though, Harry knew her as Diana Miller (Ralph's wife's name of all things) rather than as Emma. Emma hadn't bothered to correct him since she knew this was probably all temporary. At least that's what she thought until the stick turned blue.
Which was why she decided to tell him the truth—the whole truth when she told him she was pregnant.
"Pregnant?" Harry said confused. "I thought we used protection?"
They did. That was one thing that Emma was adamant about when they started to experiment with each other. She had not wanted things to end up this way. She had seen plenty of babies end up in the foster care system because of teenage flings like the one she and Harry were having.
Emma sighed, "It's not a hundred percent effective. Unfortunately."
"So, what do you want to do?" He asked.
"To be honest, I don't know." She said, "We're both seventeen, Harry."
"If you want to keep it, I'll support you." He said.
A part of her was relieved that he said that. Another part of her was upset, if anything because it made the choice even more difficult. "That's nice of you, but we're seventeen and your trust fund—it can't support a kid, can it?"
"I'm staying at the Plaza, Diana. And I bought us box tickets to Beauty and the Beast. I think it's been well established I'm well off."
"But your Batman suicide mission."
"I can work around that," Harry said. "I am not going to abandon our family."
"Our family," Emma said not noticing that tears were coming down her face.
"Yes, our family." Harry said with a smile. "I can't believe it; I'm going to be a father. Oh God, a father."
He seemed slightly panicked and Emma had laugh.
"It's not funny," Harry said. "We're going to be parents. If—if that's what you want."
"I think it is," Emma said knowing very well at this point she couldn't terminate, because God knows she felt a connection to the thing growing in her. "But yeah, I didn't expect you to be so mature about this whole thing. The panic, that's more normal. That's how I'm feeling."
Harry nodded. "I'll look into getting my visa extended. I can probably get a solicitor to work things out for me."
"They're called lawyers here," Emma said. "But are you sure? You seemed to have things going on in the UK, are you sure you want to do this?"
"You told me it's my life, right?" He said.
She nodded.
"Well," He said. "I want to spend my life with you and our child, not be someone's designated savior."
All Emma could do was smile as he pulled her into a kiss. She knew it was ridiculous, because they barely knew each other, but at that moment she thought she might, just might, get a happy ending.
She knew she should've told him her real name sooner. She just sort of forgot about it. After she told him about the baby, they had started actually doing some grown up planning which meant looking for an apartment in the city, Harry finding a lawyer to help him with the immigration process to the US and Emma getting proper prenatal care.
It was really their first fight. The fight that ultimately ended up to whatever the two of them had decaying into nothing like everything else in Emma's life.
"What do you mean your name isn't Diana Miller?" Harry asked her after he returned from seeing the immigration lawyer.
Harry had just asked her to marry him.
Apparently, their best option for Harry to stay in the country was for him and Emma to get married. He would be able to get a green card within a couple of years and have the opportunity to get his citizenship then.
To say the least, this hits Emma a little hard.
"Marriage? I am still trying to wrap myself around a kid, Harry."
"I know, love. But this is the best option. The lawyer says that employment options for someone in my position aren't likely. And the lottery system is more or less a crapshoot. But the marriage thing could work, especially since she said our marriage wouldn't be your typical sham marriage that immigration looks out for."
A sham marriage—seriously, he did not say that.
Harry noticed the look on Emma's face. "Diana, she was telling me all the possible scenarios. I know what we have isn't a sham."
She shook her head. "Really, you mentioned the word sham. I didn't."
"I'm just telling you what the solicitor said," Harry said. "Besides, we're planning on being together anyway. I don't see what the big deal is anyway. We're going to stay together and raise the baby."
"The big deal," She said. "The big deal is that we're seventeen-years-old, Harry. And that my name isn't even freaking Diana Miller."
She knew it was stupid. She should've told him her name a long time ago. After all, they had been together at that point for a good couple of months. But she had kept quiet, if anything to protect herself. She was sure Harry had his own secrets; at least that's what she told herself. But Harry looked utterly appalled.
"Your name isn't Diana Miller. Then who are you? Who am I having a child with?"
She sighed heavily. "Well, honestly, I really don't know since my parents never deemed me with a name other than a baby blanket that had the name 'Emma' sewn on it. But who known they might've gotten it out of garbage before they dumped me in the middle of the highway."
"Emma, what a lovely name." Harry said in a bit of a daze.
"Yes," Emma said. "My name is Emma Swan, best I know. What's wrong? Don't tell me you had an ex with that name."
"No," Harry said turning to face her. "Not at all."
There was something different about him, something that Emma couldn't exactly pinpoint but he didn't quite look like her Harry. Her Harry, God what was wrong with her? She only knew him for a few weeks. A few weeks and she was already thinking of marriage. Or he had asked, she didn't know if she'd actually agree to it. Especially with the way he was looking at her now.
"What's wrong?"
"Besides you lying about your name, nothing." Harry said. "Just have a bit of a headache, dearie."
"Dearie? Really?"
He rolled his eyes. "I'm going to take a shower, Emma. I need to work some things out."
And then he left the room. Even his gait seemed different to Emma, he almost strutted now.
She just shook her head, telling herself she was her imagination and that the pregnancy hormones were finally starting to get to her.
She agreed to marry him.
She thought it would make things different, imagine to her surprise when he was a little reluctant.
"Are you sure, Emma? It is marriage, dearie."
She sighed heavily. Of course, she wasn't sure. But she was also sure she couldn't do this alone. Even though Harry had been acting odd since she told him her real name, he had still been there. And as much as she hated to admit it, she sort of depended on him right now.
"You can't go back to England," She said, "I need you."
He looked unconvinced. "I'm sure that I can figure something else out, Emma, if you don't want to get married."
She shook her head. "No. Your lawyer said it was the best way. And the baby needs you here."
He frowned. "That is true, but it is quite the commitment, dearie."
"Please don't call me that, Harry."
"What? Dearie?" He asked. "Sorry, just an old term of endearment I tend to use."
"You didn't use it before." She said.
"Before what?" He asked.
"Before I told you my real name. It upset you, didn't it?"
"Well, you kept your identity from me for weeks. But no, Emma, I'm not that upset. I still want to marry you."
In hindsight, that really was a way to answer a proposal, Emma thought.
The wedding was even less romantic than that, if that was possible. It took place at the courthouse. Harry had all the respected paperwork done, they had his lawyer be a witness, and that was pretty much it.
No one gave Emma away. There was no big dress or cake. Harry had told her to buy what she wanted to wear, but Emma had been puking too much to care. And she wasn't that much of a girly girl anyway, so she wore the dress that she wore when Harry and her attended Beauty and the Beast together. Other than being a tad tight in the bust, it looked the same as it did a few weeks ago.
But oh, how things changed. Harry was different now, a lot more broody and Emma was wearing one big ring on her finger now. And even though Emma readily said those vows that day, she had to think about it.
Harry seemed distracted. She told him as much that day when she practically had to force him into their marriage bed.
"It is our wedding day," She remembered snapping as practically pulled off the shirt he was wearing.
He looked so different in a suit, she thought. Especially his wedding suit, while he had bought a couple of nice coats to wear when they went out on the town, they hadn't been tailored like the suit he wore to the courthouse. He looked like an actual grownup in it.
Then again, they were practically grownup now. They had gotten married, after all. "Emma," He said. "I—"
She put her fingers to her lips, "Harry, please, for our wedding night let's pretend we're in Tallahassee."
"Tallahassee?"
Of course, he wouldn't remember that conversation. Why wasn't she surprised. He had seemed so distracted since that visit to the lawyer.
"Harry,"
"What?"
"I want you," Emma said. "Can you please try for one night to forget whatever it is on your mind."
"I can't forget." Harry said, "Emma, I—"
She shook her head. "Please, for me and the baby."
He sighed heavily, "It's not that simple."
"Is it?" She said as she began to take off his pants.
He smiled, "Well, I guess it is our wedding night, dearie."
Emma smiled back letting the 'dearie' comment go for just once.
He was gone the next morning. There was a simple note that said he had things to do and he would be back later.
He came back late that night, and didn't want to talk to her when she asked where he was. Just that he had things that needed to get done.
Emma tried to ignore it best as she could. After all, she was sort of stuck. And it made her feel a bit suffocated, but what could she do?
Run away again? She had nothing, and she had married Harry. She was sure that he cared for the baby. She saw glimpses of the boy who she thought she knew when he looked at the ultrasound picture, but at the same time she hated the way he kept her in the dark.
She would later try to recall how many days it was before she finally asked him, "Why did you even marry me?"
This caught Harry off guard, "What?"
"You heard me," Emma said slightly teary eyed. Even she had to admit, the hormones were having her act way too emotional. Then again, she didn't think she'd marry someone who practically ignored her. She didn't know when the last time she saw Harry apart from bedtime was. And he didn't even want to do anything, it seemed.
"Yeah, I heard you, dearie. But I have no idea why you're talking like this."
"You're never here," Emma said, "You don't even try to touch me anymore."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Dearie, I have unfinished business. You know that."
"Oh, stop it!" She snapped. "You know I hate that term. I've told you that about a thousand times already."
"Mere slip of the tongue, Emma." He said.
To be honest, there was always something off about the way he said her real name and she made this point known. "You've treated me differently since you found out my real name and I want to know why. Look, Harry, I know it was dumb using an alias. That I should've trusted you, but trust is hard for me. You know my history."
"It's been established that I don't care about that," He responded. "I married you didn't I, Emma. I mean, that should tell you that I really didn't care much that you lied to me about everything."
"And there you go again," She said.
He gave her a blank look.
"What?"
"Oh, don't play smart. I can read through the lines. You're still upset. I don't even know why you married me."
"Again, you're being ridiculous, Emma."
Emma glared at him. "Get out."
"What?"
"Just go, Harry. I need time to think right now."
"Excuse me, but I'm paying for the room." Harry hissed. "And you're overreacting, dearie."
"God, I hate that term." She hissed. "It's like you're talking down to me. And you always use it. Always."
"Well, you didn't want me calling you Emma. Would you like me to refer to you as Diana or Di? Or what about Ms. Swan? I suppose it would be Mrs. Potter now."
"No," She said. "I—look, I need some air. I know you're paying for the room, but I feel like I'm going to puke my guts out. You should be a little understanding since it's sort of your fault that I'm knocked up."
He sighed heavily, but his features became more relaxed. "Do you want me to see if I can get you something from the chemist?"
She looked at him, "If it gets you out of here, then yes."
He nodded before leaving her alone, not that it really helped. She had been alone a lot since they said their vows.
She shook her head, as ran towards the toilet. She hadn't been lying to Harry about feeling nauseous. The pregnancy had been more than a little difficult. The doctor said stress could bring that on, and her marriage had brought her nothing but stress.
Emma thought it was ridiculous how weeks ago, she thought marrying Harry would solve all their problems.
"Love," He said coming back in the room. She didn't know how much time had passed just that he was standing over her, and her head was still in the toilet bowl.
How embarrassing.
She felt his hands supporting her back, rubbing circles along it. She knew if she would've turned around he would've resembled the boy she had met. Not the disinterested man she had been dealing with the past few weeks
"Morning sickness," She murmured.
"It's three in the afternoon." He said.
She wanted to say some biting remark about how this was the first time he was in the hotel before eight in several days, but instead all she could do was vomit into the porcelain bowl that was besides her.
When she finally finished, he said. "Let's get you to bed."
"Like you said it's three in the afternoon," She murmured. "And it's just morning sickness."
"Love," Harry said. "Please, for the baby."
The room kept spinning. "I don't think I can get up."
Much to her surprised he picked her up when she said this and put her to bed. It wasn't as romantic as it sounded. However, Harry did seem to care which was saying something. Much like that afternoon when he dutifully took care of her from taking her back to bed, to getting her saltine crackers and Gatorade.
"Seriously," She said. "I don't need this."
"You're dehydrated," He said. "I should've realized earlier you weren't in good shape."
She frowned, "I wasn't just angry because I felt like crap, Harry."
"I know," He said sitting down on the bed next to her. "Love, I've been dealing with a lot."
She realized that, but didn't he understand she was dealing with a lot too. When she mentioned that he wasn't the one who was going to have to push a human being out of their vagina in the next few months, Harry shook his head. "It's not the baby. The baby is a non-issue. As are you. It's other stuff."
"In England?" She asked.
She knew it was too good to be true, him giving up what he called his life long quest. He seemed sincere at the time, and she wanted to believe that he was done with his so called Batman Suicide Mission, but at the same time it would behave his recent behavior.
He sighed. "It's not that so much. You wouldn't believe me if I told you what's wrong."
"I am your wife," Emma said. "And I'm having your child; I think I am entitled to the truth."
"Fine, I recently found out I have another child."
Another child?
Emma looked at him. "You're seventeen."
"I know," Harry said. "But I need to find him, Emma. I already missed too much time."
"You really have another kid?"
He nodded his head, he seemed sincere. "I just found out about Bae, Emma. I need to find him. He shouldn't be alone."
Emma nodded, but she found herself asking. "Who's his mother?"
"His mother doesn't matter, she's dead."
Emma gave him a pointed look. He had another kid and the mother didn't matter because she was dead. "Really, I don't think she's that indispensable, Harry. You had a child with her."
Harry frowned, "Trust me when I say that Milah doesn't matter. It's in the past."
"Yet, you had her child and you knocked me up all before your eighteenth birthday."
A part of her wanted to get out of the bed and deck him at that point. It seemed irrational, because this Milah was clearly in the past and Harry supposedly didn't know about Bae before but she couldn't help but be angry.
"Seriously, your kid's name is Bae? Did your ex even know what that means?"
"It stands for Baelfire," Harry said. "It's a family name."
"I don't care what it is, Bae translates to shit in English." Emma hissed. "And we're not naming our kid something like that. Seriously, your kid's name is poop."
"Is that what you want to talk about, his name? I thought you'd have other questions."
Oh, yes, did she have other questions. Looking at Harry she said, "When did you find out about him? And should I say how?"
He sighed, "It was shortly after I consulted with the solicitor. She was doing some background research for me, and found him."
"That was almost a month ago." Emma said, "You could've told me before we got married. Is this why you've been acting like a freak?"
He glared at her. "A freak, dearie, really?"
"How many times do I have to tell you NOT to call me dearie?"
"You called me a freak, I thought to return the endearment. Though dearie is a lot less hateful, my uncle called me freak. My uncle, Emma. The one who thought it was okay to lock me up in a broom closest for long periods of time."
Emma felt slightly bad for a moment, but she was smart enough to know it was a diversion tactic. "No, no, we are not going to digress. I am going to get back to the conversation, why didn't you tell me that you had a son?"
"Because quite frankly, Emma, I didn't think I could trust you." Harry said.
"I am your wife," She said.
"And you lied to me about your identity."
"Yet, you married me."
He sighed heavily. "Please, love—"
"No," She said. "You do not get to fluff over this and call me 'love'. You kept something big from me, we have to talk this out. If this marriage is worth saving."
"You're having my baby." Harry stated.
"Yeah, and apparently I'm not the first person to have your child." Emma said biting her lip as she put her hand on her still very flat abdomen.
It was weird thinking she was going to have a baby. She didn't feel any more pregnant than she did a month ago when she took the pregnancy test, and aside for the violent morning sickness and the slight swelling of her bust she didn't feel that pregnant either.
When she first found out she was having the baby, she had been so excited. Yes, the pregnancy felt unreal but she had felt so much hope. Now though, now she wasn't sure how she felt about this pregnancy or for that matter her marriage.