"Ma."
My head whips around so rapidly I feel my neck pop and a loud "crack" fills the tiny bedroom that I had been tidying.
"Yes darli- wait, what did you say?" I look over at the small child sitting on the floor about a yard from where I'm standing. He stares up at me with wide emerald eyes that mirror my own and blinks twice before opening his mouth and saying,
"Ma."
Tears immediately spring to my eyes and my knees instantly give away. I crawl over to my son and lift him onto my lap. Wrapping my arms around his tiny, squirming frame, I raise him so his face is level with mine.
"S-say it again pl-please," I murmur haltingly, not trusting my emotions enough to speak in a normal tone of voice, for I am aware that tears are now streaming down my cheeks like two rivers seeking the eternal depths of an ocean. He tilts his head a little to the right and surveys the tears passing the corner of my mouth. With a frown he looks me square in the eyes and whispers again the word I've dreamt of hearing him say since the day I found out I was with child.
"Ma."
I inhale sharply and close my eyes, willing this moment to last forever. For quite a while now my small family has been in hiding, watching over our shoulders and living in fear of a madman who wishes to dispose of the perfect being currently occupying my lap.
From the first day we disappeared I've had terrible nightmares, all of which end with my child, my beautiful baby boy, lying still in my arms. No breaths come from his precious little mouth. No pulse radiates throughout his tiny body. Nothing but stillness and the slow fading of skin color.
I have lost countless hours of sleep, for each time a nightmare occurs I'm awoken by the sounds of my own sobbing and a feeling of incredible loss. Each time I struggle to regain my composure and try to go back to sleep because I know that it's just a nightmare, that it's not real at all. I only manage to stay in my bed for a few seconds before I am up and walking to my son's small bedroom right across the hall. Once I am standing over his crib I reach down, place my hand softly on his chest, and hold my breath until I am satisfied that he's alive and well. Then I pull the rocking chair out of the corner of the room and position it so that I have a full view of my little angel through the bars of the crib. Most nights I stay like this until the sun rises and he wakes up. Occasionally I fall asleep only to be woken up by my husband shaking my shoulder softly, a knowing look on his handsome face. I don't doubt that he's had the same sort of nightmares.
It's sad really. I am a fully grown, powerful woman. A respected member of the wizarding community. A caring friend. A loving wife. Yet above all this I am just a terrified mother, reduced to the maddeningly compulsive act of checking to make sure my child is alive every other night. A mother who is constantly haunted by the knowledge that she may never watch her son take his first steps or hear him say his first word.
This thought shakes me out of my trance and my eyes fly open, landing on the dark haired, green eyed little boy staring at me with a hesitant look on his face. He reaches up and clumsily places his small hand on the tears that still trickle down my left cheek.
"Ma?"
I smile warmly, turning my face and placing a kiss on his open palm that is wet with my tears.
"Yes darling. Very good. That's me," I say as I pull him close and hug him lovingly. I lean back a bit and smile down at him. He grins back.
"Ma. Ma ma mama ma." He's almost singing it now, bouncing his head left and right along with the flow of the syllables.
"Very good, you silly boy! Very good! Your father is going to be so proud of you! Yes he will," I declare, bouncing my head along with his.
I reach out and begin to tickle his sides. He shrieks with laughter and I can't help but do the same. Soon we are both laying on our sides, him squirming to get away from my fingers, laughing an all out belly laugh and me giggling, tears of joy and mirth flowing out of the corners of my eyes.
"What's this? A party and I wasn't invited?
I look up from my position on the floor to the attractive man standing in the doorway of the room. He's leaning on the doorframe grinning at the two of us lying on the floor, a hint of that old mischievous glint in his eyes that he's all but lost since our move to Godric's Hollow.
"Hello, my love. Our son has something he would like to say," I declare, turning my gaze to the boy struggling to a sitting position next to me. He looks at me for a moment and the turns to his father and beams proudly.
"Da."
I watch as my husband's jaw drops and he falls to his knees, sweeping our darling son up with both arms and hugging him tightly, knowing that he is just as thankful as I am that we've lived to hear our son speak. I smile as a warm sensation surges throughout my soul, a sensation I have not felt in what seems like years.
Hope.