Alice Longbottom remembered the birth of her son very clearly.
At least, she tried to. She knew she could not let that memory fade. Yes, she'd forgotten most everything. But not this. She couldn't forget this. Yet it only became more difficult as time went on. She'd squint her eyes, desperately wishing she could remember. She tried and tried and she could still feel it slipping away.
Still, there was a time when she did remember. When her son was born. It had been a painful day indeed, both physically and emotionally. She knew the truth about the world they were living in, she knew Frank did as well. There was bloodshed and war every day. She would wave goodbye to her friends knowing full well she may never see them again.
Yes, a day did not go where she didn't have to attend a rushed funeral, desperate to get the burial finished before the Death Eaters found a way to destroy it.
When she'd found that she was pregnant, the usual glimmer of joy she'd always thought she'd feel was replaced with a cold dread. A child. She was going to have a child. How would she protect that child? How would she keep them safe? How would she raise them in a world standing on its last legs?
Would the child have to grow up without a mother or father?
The weight of potential death had always been heavy, but now it felt like a boulder on her shoulders. If she died, the child would be alone. Her child would be all by themselves in the middle of a torn apart society…
So, Alice Longbottom chewed gum.
There would be times when the stress of pregnancy was becoming too much and she would be forced to remain in a hiding place, crushed under the weight of questions. Wondering whether she would hear someone telling her that her husband and her best friends had been killed in battle. All the while a baby that would be coming out soon demanded her full attention…
She craved sugar. So she would use gum. It wasn't the best solution, but it was certainly calming. Rather than pacing the room repeatedly even as her knees begged her for a break, she would simply chew on the gum. She would chew hard, taking out the frustration bottled inside of her out on the treat.
She started chewing gum all the time, and nearly choked on it whenever her baby gave a particularly fierce kick. It was strange, but she felt as if it was a bonding moment between her and the child. They did not have to feel useless. They could bond over a mutual love of sugary gum. They would pass the endless days by trying out different flavors. It was, in a way, entertaining.
Then she gave birth.
After her body had finally calmed down and she stumbled back into life, she saw him. His skin was bright red and moist, he was small with beads of sweat all over his forehead.
Her child. Her son.
She and Frank agreed to call him Neville. It was perfect. She held onto him and hugged him. Suddenly, nobody out there was dying. Suddenly, Voldemort and his followers were not a worry. Suddenly, the anxiety that fluttered in her chest each morning was gone. The rushing river in her mind was now a calm lake.
The sun seemed so much brighter.
The real world slapped her in the face pretty quickly, but she'd still held on. After all, she had a son now. A child. His name was Neville. She would watch him whenever she could and would sometimes catch the edges of his lips quirking up. Seeing someone smile in the torture Voldemort had created was something she'd never known she needed.
Often times, she'd eat more gum.
Alice never noticed how much of a stress reliever gum truly was, but now she was taking full advantage of it. She didn't have much time and there was also the fear that she may choke on it. But during those rare treasures where she got moments alone with her son, she would chew more gum.
She'd certainly built up a fine collection of gum. She even noticed Neville pointing at his favorite flavors. It was adorable. (Then again, Neville doing anything was adorable.) It was refreshing, a bit of normalness in a land of chaos.
She didn't know she couldn't avoid the land of chaos forever.
Alice Longbottom did not remember much of when she lost her mind.
Yes, she supposed that was something to be thankful for. It was a gruesome endeavor. But her memories still retained some of it.
She remembered fire. Fire in her veins. Fire scorching every inch of her skin.
She remembered screaming. It tore out of her throat and never seemed to end. Her ears nearly shattered from listening to it.
She remembered begging. The realization that the agony would not stop. There was nothing she could do about it except plead and repeat that same word. Stop. Stop. Stop.
She remembered thinking of her son. What would happen to him if both of his parents died? Who would take care of him? She was cut off from those thoughts with another strike of lightning.
She remembered her last word. A cracked whisper on the edge of her lips.
Neville.
She wasn't dead.
It went against everything she'd ever imagined. Death Eaters had tortured her and her husband. She should be dead. She wanted to be dead. But she wasn't.
Or was she?
She was lying in something, rough and soft at the same time. There were voices. Real and unreal. She couldn't tell. They were saying words, but the letters didn't fit together right. It sounded like a foreign but familiar language. A form of English she didn't understand.
She was so confused. She was so lost. Where was she?
And then the talking was getting faster, each word barely waiting a beat before turning into another. Sounds drew together and tore apart. Alice was pretty sure she was shrieking and demanding to know where she was and what was happening, but nobody looked at her. Was she even speaking?
That was the start of many days featuring the same thing. Bubbles of conversations would float around her and she would desperately try to interrupt, only for her to bounce off the edges. It took weeks, but eventually, she gave up. She sat in the middle and she didn't bother listening.
She spent most of her time sleeping, not that she wanted to. Whenever her eyes closed, the fire would come back. Not slowly, but a sudden rush that she could not escape. She would see maniacal eyes, hear taunting screams all while she begged. Stop. Stop. Stop.
Sometimes when she woke up, the pain would linger.
There was the bright ceiling, a dull sight that her mind quickly decorated with various flashes. The bed that never let go of her back. The comfort of the item had deteriorated fast, but she didn't ask for a new one. Was there even anyone who would listen? She still had no idea where she was.
Sometimes, she could've sworn she heard snippets of her husband's familiar voice, but they would get snatched by the wind before she could hold onto them. She tried to speak and ask where she was, but any words would fizzle out whenever she attempted to speak.
Figures would walk by, speaking to her in garbled gibberish she couldn't decipher. They didn't seem to care that she couldn't understand and simply went on with their tasks. They weren't the only ones. She'd see other figures who'd sit at her bedside. A flicker would go off in the back of her mind and be promptly extinguished.
At first, it drove her crazy not knowing where she was or what was happening or why there were so many voices in her head. But after some time, time she couldn't even measure, she gave up. She let herself be confused.
Deep down, she felt like something was off. There was something not quite right about this whole situation. There was something not quite right about her. But the pieces of the puzzles had been scattered, and she couldn't seem to move her fingers and put them together. There was no point.
Many figures would drift in and out, Alice paying them no mind. But this one in particular caught her eye, and the blurring visions of reality suspended long enough for her to barely make out his appearance.
He was a little boy. Hair the color of…she couldn't remember. He was shaking, or maybe that was just her eyes moving around. They did that a lot and she couldn't control it. He had his hands in his pockets, staring down at his feet.
She did not like seeing him sad. She wanted to be near him and was filled with joy for the first time in a while when he sat at her bedside.
Most words she heard were incomprehensible to her, and it was tedious task to try and string together whatever she could pick up. But she made the effort anyway, for she wanted to hear what he had to say.
She was able to hear a few things. She heard him mention a grandmother, a fear, a Squib.
"…Not good enough…"
Alice did not like that. Why was he saying he was not good enough? Something in her heart said he was good enough. That he was strong and brave and something beyond the world. She hoped her smile would indicate that, but she hadn't smiled in so long.
He went on and on and one thing she noticed in particular was the repetition of the word Mum. He'd look directly into her eyes when he said that. She couldn't tell whether he was calling her Mum, but it brightened her day to hear him say that.
He spoke of pressure, of worthlessness, or despair. He said he wanted to make her proud. Alice didn't know why he cared so much about her opinion, but she wasn't complaining. Now the real question was, why did she care so much about his opinion…
Oh, of course. Sugar! He made her think of sugar. He made her think of gum. She would often find gum at her bedside, presumably from the people who tended to her every day. When the anger from her confusion resurfaced, she could chew gum and the taste would make it all go away.
The boy seemed to be upset too. She felt as if they were similar in a way, maybe what worked for her would work for him as well.
Without thinking, Alice snatched an old gum wrapper off the table and handed it to the boy as he got up to leave. He stared down at in shock, which melted into disappointed.
Immediately, she felt herself deflate. Didn't he understand she was trying to help him feel better? She gave him an imploring gaze and pressed the wrapper into his hand. He finally held onto it and placed it in his pocket. He gave her one last look that held so many layers, Alice didn't have time to study them all.
A shrill voice came from the doors and the boy turned around, heading away. Once he left, reality split back into the mess it usually was and she was floating on air. She definitely needed some sugar herself, although the euphoria would go away soon.
Still, she did quite like that boy. She hoped he would come again.