Lily opened her eyes, but saw no light. She gasped for breath as she snapped awake, her face wet with tears and her body damp with sweat. Screams—her own terrified screaming—echoed in her mind. Panting heavily, she attempted to regain her bearings. She looked to the messy-haired man beside her, thankful he was still asleep.
What have I done?
She eased out of the bed, careful not to wake him. This was not an easy task, considering the added weight of her swollen stomach, and the bed gave a squeal of relief as she stood.
He was wrong.
As her feet touched the floor, she shivered involuntarily, despite the warmth of the summer night. She reached for her dressing gown and, wrapping it tightly around her, she made her way to her desk, sat down, and, with a trembling hand, began to write.
It wasn't supposed to be this way. You were supposed to be born happy, safe, with no worries or burdens. And that will never be.
Dumbledore was so sure that it wasn't us. It was supposed to be them. We both fit the criteria—you'll both be born toward the end of July, and we've both escaped three times. But they were more celebrated. They seemed the likelier target. I pitied them, and I was so relieved. I'm ashamed to say it, but any mother would be.
But he was wrong.
And now, now after a moment of joy, a second of relief, I find myself afraid again. James doesn't know yet. He still thinks it'll be Frank and Alice. Of course, we're still protected. Dumbledore would've never chanced our lives or yours, so our secret keeper's still in place.
I wonder if you'll meet him—the Longbottom boy.
It's an odd thing: to hear yourself pleading and screaming, to watch yourself die. But what's worse, so much worse, is that I don't even know whether it was all in vain. It doesn't matter. I'll do it anyway. What do I do? It's petrifying, really, to know and not know at the same time. And now you to face great danger, and I won't be there to save you. What is a baby to Lord Voldemort?
I wonder whether it would have been better…. Will you regret even being born? James, he and I love you so much already. Most mothers worry about their baby's health; they fear the worse. And when their miracle is born, the joy, the relief is so much sweeter for it. But it's more than that… it's certainty that you won't…. Will you get a year? Two years? Will you get to experience Hogwarts?
Sirius, Remus, and Peter are going to be so upset when they find out. James will have to tell them. I don't think I can stand to see Sirius' face. He loves you, too. I wish you could see… he talks to my stomach as much as James. Uncle Padfoot—he's decided that's his name, and he gets a huge, goofy grin on his face whenever he talks about you.
Now that I think of it, with him and your father, you'll be lucky to survive past 5 anyway…. James and Sirius secretly already bought you a broom. They think I don't know, but I found it in the closet the other day. Their hopes for you are so big.
Moony's already attached to you. He'd never let us see it, and he tries to act modest, formal when "the baby" is mentioned. But then, if you look fast enough, there's that glint in his eyes that offers the same hope in this new life—your life. In fact, he's the one who first mentioned the name Harry; we already new we wanted James.
Peter, sweet Peter… he'll be so heartbroken. He wants to make you a Marauder, like them. I think he wants you to be what he wasn't: brave and strong. Peter's so loyal, though. You'd love him.
There are so many people who are excited about you. You are our light in the darkness… and now the light has been extinguished. Our hope is lost. There is so much, so very much, I wish I could give you in a letter. But now I wonder if you wish I hadn't given you life.
I'm sorry, Harry.
Unable to write anymore, Lily lay down her pen. She trembled with tears. These only doubled when a strong hand fell on her shoulder. James pulled her close, the same terror echoing in his own thoughts.
"I know. I saw it, too. We will endure whatever comes… for Harry."
A/N: First one shot--please R&R