Angel

My baby. I know that as he grows older he will belong to other people. He'll be the public's baby. He will belong to his friends in a way that is nothing in value and everything in sentiment. He will be his first love's passion. He will be his wife's adoration. Hopefully he will one day be his children's idol. But for now he's just my baby.

He won't know how to feel about me. He'll love me because I am his mother and he is my world. But he'll hate me too because if I hadn't died he wouldn't have to live with my sister. It will be my fault for dying. This kind of hatred makes perfect sense in child logic and utter nonsense for adults. But it's probably how he will come to feel. James and I knew that one day our time would come, so we made a safety net. We gave our beloved son to Sirius. Sirius could never be our baby's father, but they could connect in a way which is real and which is pure. They wouldn't share any blood, but that wouldn't matter. I learned long ago, when I wasn't yet thirteen that blood means very little. Very little indeed. It is true hearts that matter. That was why we gave Harry to Sirius and Sirius to Harry. But it fell through.

My dying wish was that Harry should live. I clung onto him desperately because James was gone and Harry was a baby, just a baby. Voldermort ignored me. But I got my request in the end anyway. Harry survived Voldermort and I couldn't have been more proud.

As Harry grew up in the hellhole better known as my sister's house I wanted to scream out, to help him, to be of some assistance. James held my hand and told me it would be fine and I believed him because he is James and he loved me as much as I loved him and he is brave and strong and although he takes everything with a smile it was pure anguish for him to watch his child go through this torment. If James could believe it, I could believe it.

I was 21 when I died. I count myself lucky. Not everyone gets past their teenage years. When a child comes up to heaven, fear filling their face it pains me greatly because that could be Harry. That could be my baby. Children don't deserve to die, not even the bratty ones who never shut up, not even the snooty ones who look down at others in the playground. Not even the rough ones who bully. I always loved children. Harry is a wish come true, a desire turned into reality. He's far more the angel than I'll ever be.