Names
For Stranger
Lily Evans wished for many things in her life—this was not one of them.
Of course she loved her husband and of course, eventually, she knew she would want a child to love, as well. Only 'eventually' did not classify to her as 'in the middle of a war'.
Really, at a time like this, how could she be thinking about little boys and girls with mops of black hair and bright green eyes, or perhaps redheaded, or perhaps brown-eyed, maybe with glasses or maybe not? The Order was decaying in numbers, their friends were dying or otherwise suspected of betrayal and double crossing.
That did not mean that she hadn't actually thought of little boys and girls—their little boys and girls.
Even hours after casting the spell, she lay on her bed, her hair spread all over the pillows and her eyes fixated on the ceiling just thinking at the possibilities. There were so many what ifs. What if this war had ended? What if it had never existed in the first place?
What if James wouldn't be happy to hear the news?
The last one left a sour taste in her mouth, though one unlike the vomit she had deposited in the toilet as of late. She could feel herself cringe. James wasn't stupid; he too was well aware that firstly, they were in the middle of a war and secondly, they already had more than enough persons to worry about.
When he came back from St. Mungo's, looking worn and tired but still smiling at her and kissing the top of her head, she asked:
"How was your day?"
He answered: "Horrid," and then, "Dumbledore's sent this."
She would tell him the next day.
In neat writing and located in the back of an overstocked drawer:
- Blair
- Daniel
- Annabelle, encircled
- Helen
- Benjamin, crossed out
- Mary, and in smaller font – unlikely
Three days later, Sirius, Remus and Peter visited them.
Also three days later, Alice Longbottom announced her pregnancy.
"I pity Frank and Alice," Sirius admitted as they sat around the table, each facing a glass of firewhiskey. Lily hadn't touched hers. "How are they gonna manage with Order business and a kid? Let's not forget to mention Voldemort and the Death Eaters lurking around at every corner?"
"And the risk of either of them being killed in a day's span," Remus gloomily nodded, sipping on his half-empty glass. "I'm not surprised nobody started congratulating them."
James moodily stared at his own glass. "I doubt they'd even want congratulations. Actually, I think Alice was just this close to crying."
"Well I'm sure they're at least sort of happy about it," Peter intervened, gesturing for Sirius to hand the bottle over for a refill. "Even if the timing's horrible. I'd be happy, too, I think."
Sirius passed the bottle, but not without an incredulous look. "I think I'd go crazy. I'm pretty sure this is the worst time possible to be having a kid—actually, I think it'd be a service to the kid, not having it," Lily throat tightened and she focused on keeping her gaze glued to her full glass. "Imagine having to grow up in this war."
"You're not honestly going to go to Frank and Alice and tell them 'don't have the kid', are you?" Peter shot back, his eyes widening and his grasp on the bottle almost slackening.
Sirius had the dignity to look insulted. "Of course not. I'm realistic, not tactless. And besides, I'm not in any position to tell Frank and Alice what to do."
"It's their choice," Remus agreed, reaching over to grab the bottle from Peter.
"Pity it's difficult, whatever they'd choose," James finished.
They continued talking about it—advantages, which were few, disadvantages, which were many. Every minute that passed had Lily convinced that however she'd choose telling James about it, he wouldn't be happy. She found herself longing to have spent more time with Alice Longbottom, to ask her 'How did you do it?' or to simply be there for her in the struggle because she knew.
At one point, they noticed her silence.
"Something wrong, Lily?" Sirius asked nonchalantly and out of a sudden.
She looked up, startled.
"Not at all. Why?"
"You've been really quiet, and considering that you talk a lot most of the time, that's something to worry about"
Then James: "Are you sure? Do you want me to get you something?" he nudged her glass. "You haven't even touched your Firewhiskey."
"I…" she looked at the four of them. Definitely not now. "Have a headache. Bugged me the whole day and I thought it would go away, but it didn't."
Her husband's eyes softened. "Go and lie down. It's getting late, anyway, so we should all be turning in," then he grabbed her hand and led her to the door, "Why didn't you say you weren't feeling well?"
Lily cracked a smile. "It's not wise to interrupt the Marauders during a heated discussion."
Laughing, James pulled her closer and softly pressed his lips to hers, "That, you got right."
She would tell him another day.
- Blair, crossed out
- Daniel
- Annabelle, encircled
- Helen?, then crossed out
- Jonathan?
- Benjamin, crossed out, then rewritten
- Mary, and in smaller font—unlikely, then crossed out
- Harold
It was three weeks in and the week before, they had stopped an ambush. Voldemort had been there, and not for the first time of her life, Lily felt her blood cool at the sight of him. There was so much blood, people screaming, corpses, corpses.
Ben and Marlene.
She stood bent over the toilet bowl, wishing for all to end. The retching, the secrets, the tension, the killings, the war.
The McKinnons are dead, she remembered, and without one minute left to breathe, she threw up the remaining contents in her stomach.
James found her tired, shuddering and weak, leaning against the bathroom wall. He softly wiped away her tears, but his were red as well. "Let's get you into bed."
She didn't protest. He carried her to their room, to the bed, gently laid her down and then snuggled in as well. In Lily's mind, however, a struggle was held. She had to tell him—she had to. Postponing it would only make the outcome worse once it got out. But how much bad news could James take in such little time?
Life was so short, so, so frail.
So, just as he asked, "Are you okay?" she simultaneously said "James, I'm pregnant," and clenched her eyes shut, unwilling to watch his reaction.
Silence. A lot of silence. Then a sigh.
"That's great."
He sounded relieved. Lily cracked open one eye, and narrowed it in confusion once she caught James' smile.
"Did you actually catch that?" she asked in disbelief. "I said pregnant, James. Like, with a baby."
He rolled his eyes. "I know what pregnant means, Lily."
"Then how is that 'great'?"
"I just spent some horrid three weeks watching you live in the toilet and thinking you're—well," at her confused look, he admitted: "Pregnant was my second guess."
"Oh, great," she scoffed. "And you couldn't have asked me and made everything easier, could you? I can't believe you already knew."
"I wasn't certain of it, since it looks like you've made it your mission to hide it from me," he jokingly smacked the top of her head. "But Lily, I thought your common sense was still in here."
She gave him one of her best, genuine confused looks. He chuckled.
"Lily, do you happen to remember where I go to work?"
Finger mid-air, she paused. Slowly: "The one bloody hospital in wizarding London."
At that, James burst into genuine, loud laughter, and Lily resisted the urge to smack his arms several times just so he would stop.
"I panicked, alright?" she exclaimed, but this only served to induce more laughter. "I really thought you'd be upset about it—and—and—"
James stopped quite suddenly. "Wait, upset?"
"Yes, upset," she repeated, snuggling further under the warm covers and shifting so her head was now at a level with his. "We are in the middle of a war, after all. No place for children," she paraphrased what she'd heard at least twenty times after the Longbottoms announced.
James closed his eyes, sighing. "Is this about the talk we had about Alice and Frank expecting? That's why you were being so quiet?"
After a while, she replied: "No," then when he opened his eyes again, "Partly."
"Lily…" he groaned, reaching out to brush the hair off her face. "Just because I think the timing could be better doesn't mean I'm not happy. Sure I won't jump up and down in excitement right now, I mean," he pursed his lips, which were already quirking up. "It probably wouldn't do the bed too much good, and considering…" he trailed off, and a dull twinge of pain hit her in the form of Marlene's smile. "But I'm happy. I'm really, really happy."
"Then," she started, barely above a whisper. "It's okay to be happy?"
"It's perfectly fine to be happy," he whispered back, and finally let himself smile.
Lily smiled back, hesitantly.
And then, a small voice in her mind said it was night. It was bedtime, and Lily was well aware she wouldn't be sleeping that night, just as she hadn't slept the night before. Godric's Hallow was silent, all she could hear was the sound of their breathing and the beats of their hearts. The misery washed over her in waves, and waves, but the tears wouldn't fall.
Marlene would've been happy for them.
"Have you thought about names?" James said rather suddenly, breaking the silence and her train of thoughts.
She was confused for a fraction of a second, "Names?"
"For the kid."
Bless him for giving her the perfect distraction.
"Oh," she sat up brusquely, startling both her husband and herself.
Guiltily grimacing down at him, she signaled for him to wait with a finger and started rummaging through the drawer. James was watching her the whole time, looking rather amused, and she pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment, smoothening out the creases.
Her husband raised an eyebrow, "For how long exactly have you been hiding this from me?"
"Not that long," she assured him, rolling her eyes. "Do you want to hear names or not?"
Propping himself up with an elbow, "I'm all ears."
She lit up the lamp with a flick of her wand and her eyes—tired, blood red but restless—scanned the piece of parchment.
"For a girl, I've thought," she swallowed a lump in her throat. Marlene… "I've thought about Annabelle."
She heard her snort from her right; she narrowed her eyes at James.
He had the nerve to look unaffected. "Lily, I love you. But I refuse to give my daughter a name that's probably the one of an old lady who knits sweaters for cats."
"My grandmother's name was Annabelle," Lily gaped at him, visibly offended.
He didn't look any more fazed. "Exactly."
They spent the night bickering and kissing and talking about names, but never, never the ones of their late, dear friends.
There were always some things better left unsaid. In secrets, in tension, in war.
- Blair, crossed out, then in messy handwriting: Rethink this one
- Daniel, crossed out with a thicker stroke
- Annabelle, encircled, crossed out with a thicker stroke, rewritten, crossed out
- Helen?, then crossed out
- Jonathan?, crossed out
- Benjamin, crossed out, then rewritten, and now just a large black blob on the parchment
- Mary, and in smaller font—unlikely, then crossed out
- Harold, crossed out with a thicker stroke
- Lily II, crossed out several times
- James II, crossed out even more viciously
Across a corner of the parchment: James, if your next suggestion will be Sirius, Remus or Peter, I'm kicking you out.
"Damn."
Three days later, Sirius Black stood at their table in the kitchen, looking at Lily as if she had grown a second head.
"Damn," he repeated, slowly, before taking a generous gulp of Butterbeer—James had put their purchase of Firewhiskey on hold for the time being.
Lily scowled at him, her eyebrow quirking.
"Sirius, I'm sorry, but did you come here just to gawk at me and drink all our Butterbeer?"
Sirius turned his head to look at James, who was smiling good-naturedly, "Is she supposed to be this cranky yet?"
"I don't know, mate," he admitted. "You did only gawk at her and drink our Butterbeer since you arrived."
"I'm still here, you two," she called out, sarcastically.
Sirius leaned back in his chair and looked at her for one long minute. Then he asked, "How did this happen?"
James cleared his throat. "Well, when a man and a woman love each other very, very much—"
Lily smirked, just as Sirius narrowed his eyes at his best friend.
"Don't be an arse. I mean," he put down his Butterbeer and let his chair fall back in place. "Not that long ago, we were talking about how inconvenient this thing with Frank and Alice is and then you two go and shag each other senseless and do the same thing?"
"Actually," Lily interrupted, her irritation growing, but her confidence also faltering. "I found out before Frank and Alice announced. I only told James this week."
She tried her hardest not to think about the events that led to her sudden courage for the confession, but one small part of her couldn't help screaming of the war and wishing Marlene had been there, at the same table, giving her approval and her favourite baby names.
Sirius' eyes visibly softened. Then something seemed to drawn upon him.
"And all that talk we had about Frank and Alice," he trailed off, and Lily nodded with a shrug. He then cringed. "That must've been awkward."
"You don't say," Lily agreed, taking a sip from her own mug. Pumpkin Juice. She scowled. "Really, James. Really?" she whined, looking up at her husband and his sizzling frying pan.
"Pumpkin Juice is good for you," he said, simply.
"That's all I've been drinking as of late, besides water. Please. One Butterbeer wouldn't—"
"Lily, I wasn't aware The Daily Prophet gives you a daily lecture about pregnancy," he replied off-handedly, dropping a serving of bacon onto his and Sirius' plates.
Hers remained mercilessly empty.
"Seriously?" she didn't even bother looking at Sirius to silence him in case he was even considering the pun. James' smile didn't waver one bit. Shaking her head, "I hate you."
"No you don't," James replied, simply, lowering himself to kiss her cheek before leaving to possibly search a healthier substitute for bacon.
She looked at his retreating form, her arms folded and scoffing in resignation. Disrupting the silence, Sirius asked through a mouthful:
"Do I get to be godfather?"
Lily shifted her head to look at him, taking him in with his cheeks stuffed with bacon and still insisting on leaning the chair backwards until he was risking a fall. This was James Potter's best friend, and a fixture in her life since she was seventeen. This was the same bloke who got himself landed in detention for not being able to resist talking back to professor Slughorn, or making an inappropriate comment to professor McGonagall. This was also the bloke who fought with them side-by-side and deflected a number of curses flying her way, and the best man at their wedding who refused to let the mood drop even if he ended up drinking too much and nearly wrecking the cake.
He wasn't her first choice for a godfather, of course. But he would be James', and above being a tad reckless, she knew Sirius Black was kind, brave, and would love the child like his own.
So she smiled warmly, and gave him a shrug. It was almost amusing how fast he took it as acceptance, even if it really was.
"Good. So I get a say in the kid's name," he started, looking rather excited, just as James returned to their table.
He exchanged her plate for a bowl and poured what looked like a very healthy mixture of vegetables in it, completely disregarding her pleading expression. Then he sat himself down, looking at Sirius with a quizzical glance.
"Got any ideas?"
"Yes, Sirius, do tell," Lily insisted, stirring at her vegetables with a very sour look. "James' are horrible."
James a mockingly hurt look her way, and Lily sent him one that hopefully conveyed 'This is what you get for making me eat healthy'. Yesterday, too, she had tried to ditch the food he had prepared in favour of something more sensible to her taste buds, but had found the ingredients held under clever, but harmless spells and jinxes, whose general outcome consisted mostly of having her unable to use her wand against them. Needless to say, she was not at all pleased with her husband.
"Elvendork."
Both Potters looked at each other in confusion, then at Sirius.
"Sorry?" asked Lily.
"Elvendork. It's unisex."
And so much for praising Sirius Black.
- Blair, crossed out, then in messy handwriting: Rethink this one, crossed out again
- Daniel, crossed out with a thicker stroke
- Annabelle, encircled, crossed out with a thicker stroke, rewritten, crossed out
- Helen?, then crossed out
- Jonathan?, crossed out
- Benjamin, crossed out, then rewritten, and now just a large black blob on the parchment
- Mary, and in smaller font—unlikely, then crossed out
- Harold, crossed out with a thicker stroke
- Lily II, crossed out several times
- James II, crossed out even more viciously
- Sirius, in calligraphy, then crossed out and next to it: Please don't make me reconsider naming you godfather.
- Eleanor ?
- Gregory? crossed out
- Rosemary, in messy handwriting
- Nicholas
- Almost illegible and as if the pen was subjected to a wrestling match: Elvendork, crossed out several times
- Richard
- Harry?