"What?" he asked incredulously, his eyes wide. The hint of a burgeoning smile appeared on his lips.
"You heard me," she said quietly, her voice small and foreign to her.
It was autumn of 1979 and the tensions that had begun to rise in the Wizarding World had escalated. Left and right acquaintances and friends were succumbing to Voldemort's quest for power; all in the name of his sickening blood supremacy campaign.
And in the midst of such turmoil, Lily and James had wed quietly in the summer of 1978—shortly after completing their seventh and final year at Hogwarts. It was a small affair, for they both did not see fit to celebrate immensely in such dark times. It was then Lily said goodbye to her old life, even to Petunia (for her protection of course—though Petunia showed no signs of remorse), and took up the fight against Voldemort with James in full force; they along with most of their beloved friends joined Albus Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix.
If they were lucky, Lily and James found time to enjoy moments of married bliss. If they were reallylucky, they were able to do so without the undercurrent of war on their minds—free of guilt. Though such precious moments were rare, especially for Lily.
And in the event of this particular new development, guilt was all she could dwell on. Guilt; despair. Gone was the optimistic Lily—the one that could see beyond the darkest times and the darkest people. The Lily that hoped.
This war, the only thing Lily possessed a hatred of, had taken much from many. And unsurprisingly, yet surprisingly all the same, it had robbed what was supposed to be a joyous realization for her; for James.
"I…I can't do this James," she confessed, her voice breaking the minute she said his name. "How can I? How can we? We're in the middle of a bloody war!"
A war was surely not the time nor the place to raise a baby.
She broke down, breathing heavily as her body shook with the promise of sobs. This baby—theirbeautiful, lovely baby—was going to have to be born and raised during a time of pain and of suffering; of death and despair. A baby didn't deserve to be part of such horrid, ghastly, things. A baby deserved love; warmth; the promise of a better future. Lily could not guarantee that for it. James could not. No one could.
And Lily felt selfish; for a part of her of course reveled in the miracle that this child represented for her and James. But she didn't deserve to feel that way. Why should she be proud? Why should she feel joy, knowing full well that although she could surely guarantee a warm and loving environment with her and James, she knew; they both knew; the world was unfortunately much bigger than their corner of bliss; the safe haven they created together.
"Lils…" James started, his voice soft and low as he pulled her into a tight embrace. "Everything's going to be alright." One of his hands traveled up and down her back, attempting to sooth her.
"You don't know that," she countered, almost envious of the way he knew how to calm her down. She wish she knew his secret. "How can you be so sure?"
"Because this baby," James began, pulling away enough to place his hand on her abdomen, "Is a miracle—a gift Lils!" Lily exhaled a shaky breath, the hint of a smile appearing. "Don't you see? It's a sign that there's some good left in this bloody world. And we have every right to cling to it, do you understand?" His other hand brushed away a traitorous tear that escaped from her eye and onto her cheek.
"If anything, it'll make us stronger. What better reason to fight—to…to survive, is there Lils?"
She placed her hand gently on top of his on her belly and Lily felt it then. Warmth. Joy. Love.
A sanctuary.
She would make it a point to give their baby this. Lily would do so in such abundance, in fact, that the threat of such raging darkness, would never be able to touch her—their—precious miracle.
"We're having a baby," she told him for the second time today.
This time, she was smiling. This time, she was happy.
This time, Lily hoped for the best.