Euphemia Potter was not a nice woman.

{ you have to wait a few more hours. her condition is not stabilized.}

Euphemia liked to think that she had been a good woman, forty years ago when she had been Euphemia Rowle. She was sorted into Rawenclaw, scored good enough marks and dodgy finances aside was on her way to being a 'career woman'. Sure even her mother had turned her nose at that statement, like a job was beneath her when she was casting duplicating charms in the pantry because food was scarce and they had three daughters. But Euphemia had been smart enough to see reality, to see that she needed a job if she had to survive, or better yet carted off to marry some cross-eyed pureblood wizard who couldn't string a coherent sentence.

So she took up a job in the Department of Welfare of Magical Children, with moderate wages and the promise of caring for children. She worked for three good years, her sisters had new robes and mother no longer had to skimp on the good wine for the guests and she could smile.

Then she met Fleamont.

{"James quiet down" Fleamont said to his son, looking anxiously towards his wife. It had been nearly two days and his wife refused to leave her vigil. He was scared how she would take to loosing yet another child}

Fleamont Potter with messy black hair, who secretly brought flowers into her office and swept her off her feet, a decade older still giggled hiding behind the file cabinet as he tripped her grouchy supervisor for looking at her all wrong.

Fleamont who carried his toddler brothers picture in his wallet and used him as an excuse to sneak into her department and stealthily slip in good chocolates. Euphemia never had the heart to tell him that she didn't enjoy sweets.

So after one brief year of courtship she had become and moved in to Potter mansion. And she had loved the house with its long imposing hallways and ancestral wards. And drafty rooms that imposing chandeliers and ballrooms shut, from victorian times.

And for the next two decades met her in laws, hosted parties and took care of Charles like her own son. Sat through his indoor Quidditch games and pranks and mysterious smells from his wing of the house.

She was a good woman even then, when she watched her family grow up, even when the purebloods stood in her house and made snide comments on the fact that the nursery was closed for the last twenty years.

She watched Charles Potter marry Dorea Black, her almost son walk into the arms of a woman whose smiles just didn't reach her grey eyes. Voiletta Black had sipped on elf-made wine at their reception and smiled at Euphemia "no children yet?"

She felt the cracks crawl up, for every dinner that Charles had missed, for every snide remark Voiletta made. And she felt all the goodness in her heart dry up the day she had to clean up her blood stained tiles and dry her tears and floo to Charles and Dorea's mansion and hold their baby.

And for thirteen odd years she held her sorrow in, Euphemia Potter faded from the once cheerful young girl that Fleamont had fallen in love with. She held her cracks and heart tinged with bitterness as she watched Charles Jr run around his parents. Something much have showed for Dorea stopped inviting her to dinner parties anymore.

And on the thirteenth year when she waved her wand in the privacy of her bathroom, her stomach glowed blue again, for the third time.

She dared not hope again, so she went to 's alone and watched her every meal and every sip. She let Fleamont hold her in nights that she woke up scared and terrified and looked over her pristine white sheets for red spots.

She prayed and prayed, to the Gods unknown and nine months later she had her own bald pink squalling infant. And her heart had soared.

Her son, James Fleamont Potter was born on a sunny day,mid afternoon barely half an hour into her labour. Like he had been thrilled about everything, infinite energy that wore out even Fleamont, all she could do was smile.

And even though just scant six months later she was invited back to Charles and Dorea's house for their daughters christening, her heart did not feel the same way.

{"She's awake , you can go in now"}

She was a beautiful, beautiful child, with a head full of messy Potter hair and kind brown eyes. James who was in her arms peered down at the baby and gave a gummy smile and Euphemia's weary heart hurt.

Charles Jr was thirteen and uninterested, Dorea's brother Pollux was staring at the baby deep in thought "Would make a fine wife for one of Walburga's sons" and all Euphemia wanted was to snatch the baby away from prying eyes.

But she had picked James up and walked away, for she knew that James wouldn't grown up with his cousin and she knew that she would never be able to give her husband a daughter.

And little James had cried and cried and cried, great big hiccuping cries and said "mine" over and over again.

And now five years later here she was. A right tragedy others would say, someone had set a fiendfyre near the woods and the uncontrolled fire burned the mansion down. The sleeping family had no chance of escape, all except their youngest daughter. She had been brought to 's just the day before because of a sudden magic fluctuations.

Euphemia Potter stepped into the pristine white ward, there lay the child still fast asleep. She didn't know yet that there was no one left, her hair lay tangled, her arms still heavily bandaged. And Euphemia held the tiny sleeping girls hands.

and deep inside Euphemia's heart, a selfish beast whispered to her that she finally had her perfect little family and two children.

James Fleamont Potter and Hermione Dorea Potter