As she lies her cheek against the cool surface of the sink, a fierce wave of nausea sweeps over her. She feels empty, traitorous. The lump in her throat causes hot tears to cloud her eyes. She rests a careful hand on her abdomen, feeling a cold sheen of sweat coating her skin, before clambering shakily to her feet. There is someone in front of her. At first, she is unrecognisable, what with her vacant, emotionless eyes and pale, sunken skin. But as she tugs on her tousled, auburn hair, familiarity comes swooping in. Lily Evans has seen better days.
Tearing her gaze away from her reflection, Lily washes her hands thoroughly and splashes cold water onto her face before leaving the bathroom. She hovers at the foot of the bed, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the peaceful serenity of his face. They are too young for this. Just months out of school, and in the midst of a battlefield. How can she bring up a child in this world?
She feels her stomach plunge and she is running for the bathroom once more. Lily falls to her knees and clutches the toilet with whitened fingertips, hanging her head desperately over the bowl. Her throat burns and her eyes water as she empties the contents of her stomach. Before she knows it, she is curled up in a ball on the cool, bathroom tiles, crying.
"Lily?"
She senses him looming over her, but she doesn't have the energy to prise her eyes apart. His arms are around her, securing his grip before he lifts her into the air, cradling her against his chest.
"Lily," he whispers. "Wake up." His lips press down on her forehead and she squirms in his grasp. Movement causes nausea to welcome her once more. James carries her into the bedroom and lays her gently on the bed. She feels the mattress lower as he lies down beside her, twisting her to face him. His hand caresses her cheek.
"You're scaring me."
Using every muscle available, Lily slowly forces her eyelids apart. James' anxious face swims in front of her line of vision. A smile tugs at the corners of her lips and she reaches out and cups his face, pulling him closer. He relaxes at her gesture of reassurance and leans in, covering her lips with his.
"I'm guessing that you're not feeling any better," James says, brushing a strand of hair from her tired eyes. She groans in reply, burying her face into the pillow.
"Lily?" he presses. After a moment of silence, he speaks again. "I can stay home, if you need me to."
Lily groans somewhat more loudly and rolls onto her back, staring unblinkingly at the cream ceiling. In a delicate show of support, James remains silent, allowing his girlfriend to gather her thoughts in the quiet.
"James," she croaks. She rolls onto her side, meeting his worried eyes with her own. "I'm pregnant."
Silence follows. She searches his face with her eyes, and feels a stab of familiarity at what she sees. Lily knows those emotions. She sees them in her own reflection. And they are not motivated by common fears – money, house size, job security. An altogether deeper sort of fear motivates them. The fear that plagues Lily every time James is sent away on a raid. The fear of scouring the obituaries and finding a familiar name. The fear of who they are and what their fate will likely be.
She cups his chin with her hand.
"I – but, how?" James's throat is dry. His eyes are slightly wider than normal, be it from shock or from fear.
"I don't know," she says quietly.
"You're sure?"
She nods. "I'm sure."
James doesn't smile. He pulls Lily closer and cradles her against his chest, stroking her hair. The familiarity and the comfort create a lump in her throat and she struggles to choke back the unyielding stab of tears. "I can't do it, James," she whimpers. "I can't be responsible for bringing a child into this world." In response, James merely holds her tighter as the tears begin to fall.
"It'll be okay," he says. His voice wavers in the same way that it always does when he lies.
The rain is falling thick and fast by the time Lily leaves the shops. She pulls her hood closer to her cheeks, bowing her head against the onslaught of raindrops. Apparation is out of the question – the last time she tried, she threw up over the kitchen floor. As she hurries through the streets, avoiding the growing puddles, she thinks of the human she is growing inside of her. What a funny thought that is. Is it selfish of her to indulge in the fantasy she sees whenever she closes her eyes at night? She is revisited time and time again by that perfect vision of a cottage in the countryside featuring a baby with James's hair and a cat that roams the halls. Lily smiles to herself as she imagines herself a mother; she imagines herself growing old with James by her side and a child that is the perfect combination of the best parts of them.
Arriving home, Lily slips through the front door and shrugs out of her cloak, making sure to dry it with a wave of her wand before she hangs it up. She calls out for James, noticing that the living room light is on, but that the place is eerily quiet. Softly, curiously, she pads towards the room and peers around the door. James is sitting, immobile, on the sofa, staring at his hands. He looks up as she enters the room, and a smile flits across his face.
Slowly, he climbs to his feet and makes his way across the room. As he reaches Lily, he holds out his hand. Nestled in his palm is a ring. The stone, an amethyst, is the size of a marble and is bounded by a stunning silver band interweaved with tiny diamonds. Lily looks from the ring to James's face, her mouth agape.
"I've been waiting for the right time to give you this," he says quietly. "I wanted the moment to be perfect. So, I waited. But I've realised that there is no perfect time. And I don't want to waste a second.
"I love you, Lily. I want to have a family with you, and everything that entails – all the risks, all the fears. Because what we'll have will be worth it. One day, when we've grown old together, we'll look back and we'll laugh. We'll laugh about how scared we were, and, in the back of our minds, we'll be proud that we didn't let fear win. I never want to be apart from you, Lily."
Before she can speak, James interjects quickly. "And I know you'd never go for something as obnoxious as this," he says with a nervous grin, giving his palm a quick shake. "But it's a family heirloom. And, I thought…" He withdraws a silver chain from his pocket and loops it through the band.
"Lily Evans, will you marry me?"
He looks at her, his eyes wide with hope and a lurking fear. He holds his trembling hands aloft, the ring dangling on the chain between them. Lily's lips break into a smile, moistened by the tears that are falling. She can't speak. She presses her hand against his cheek. He kisses her palm and she nods. Gently, James fastens the chain around her neck.
"I hope she has your eyes," she whispers against his lips.
She stands in front of the bathroom mirror in her underwear, her hand caressing the increasingly visible bump in her abdomen. It has been five months and the sickness has ceased. In its place, Lily suffers from swollen ankles and an appetite that cannot be satiated. But, she thinks fondly, it is a small price to pay.
"Lily?" James calls. She slips into a robe and pads into the kitchen. He is standing at the breakfast table, holding a sheaf of letters and a Daily Prophet. He smiles at her as she enters, sweeping over her with his eyes in that way that makes her stomach flutter. "There's a letter here for you."
He passes her a handwritten fold of parchment with her name scribbled on the front in a familiar signature. Lily's stomach drops, the butterflies replaced by a sinking feeling of unease. She breaks the seal and flips it open, her eyes flitting across the parchment with increasing apprehension.
"What is it?" James asks.
"Just Alice," Lily says, a bit too lightly. "Wants to know about the due date." She smiles in what she aims to be a reassuring way before retreating to the bedroom. She perches on the side of the bed, checks that the coast is clear, and re-reads the letter.
'Dear Lily,
I don't want the way we left things to be the only memory you keep of me. It feels like a betrayal of all those years of friendship to not at least try to fix things.
Will you be free this coming Tuesday? I will be in Diagon Alley for the day. Meet me at the café behind the junk shop at noon? We had tea there once before.
Yours,
Sev.'
Lily squeezes her eyes shut. She instantly regrets not telling James, but knows that he would do all but forbid it. And she wants to go. Severus is right; they owe it to their friendship to at least keep in touch. But, then, that familiar sinking feeling replaces her enthusiasm. What if the rumours about his involvement with the Death Eaters are true? If that is the case, she wants nothing to do with him. But if they are false… She wouldn't forgive herself.
When Tuesday arrives, she has made up her mind. She is nervous, suddenly. Of what Severus will say when he sees her. Whether he'll be pleased for her, or whether he'll be as furious as he was when he first found out that Lily and James were together. She scribbles an "out for lunch!" note to her absent fiancé, before wrapping herself in a winter cloak and stepping into the frosty air. Pregnancy does not go hand-in-hand with magical transportation and so she settles for a Muggle bus, grateful for the location of their tiny London flat, and yet knowing that soon they must move. A child cannot be brought up in a tiny London flat.
Diagon Alley is mostly empty. Those that have braved the icy chill remain hidden in shops, swaddled in cloaks and coaxing life into their frozen fingertips over a steaming mug of something warm. She shivers as she moves, hurrying with her head bowed, as close to the buildings as possible. The café Severus has chosen is closer to Knockturn Alley than Lily normally likes. She remembers, one day in the summer holidays, sharing a cup of tea with him as he countered Lily's protestations: "You're too quick to judge! Knockturn Alley isn't even that bad. Look, I'll show you."
As she enters the café, the embrace of warmth from a tiny fireplace submerges her. With a sigh of relief, she sheds her cloak and takes a seat as close to the warmth as is possible. It is empty, save for her. The owner emerges from the back and looks at her with strangely glazed eyes. "Tea?" he calls, in a vacant voice.
"Please," Lily says with a polite smile, fingering the ring that lay at her breast, as she has grown prone to do lately. As he busies himself with her order, the door beside her creaks open, bringing with it a blast of icy air and an old friend.
They watch each other. Severus looks no different, except paler, if that is even possible.
"Hi," he says.
A smile, unbidden, jumps to her lips. "Hi, Sev." He sits opposite her, watching her with a strange and unfamiliar intensity. "How are you?"
"I'm alright," he says. He speaks formally, distantly.
She tilts her head to one side, watching as he taps his fingertips against the table, a sure sign of nervousness. His eyes dart to the windows behind her, as if he is suddenly embarrassed to be seen with her.
"How are you?" he says finally.
"I – I, well. I'm okay."
Severus nods as if she has just confirmed what he has known all along. And there is silence. An awkward, uncomfortable one. "Sev," Lily says quietly, reaching across the table and laying a hand against his agitated one. "What's going on?"
At her touch, Severus freezes. His eyes focus on her, his mouth agape, his eyes glossy with what seems to be fear. He feels cold beneath her fingertips. And clammy. As he tries to pull away, she grasps him tighter. "Tell me."
His whole body tenses. His eyes dart wildly from Lily's face to the entrance to the café. "Lily," he breathes. "You have to go."
"What?"
"Please," he says desperately, grasping her hands tightly with both of his, as if the iron grip will motivate her more.
"I've made a mistake. You need to leave. If you go now – "
"Sev, I've just ordered tea! I don't understand. Why don't you want to – "
Severus jumps to his feet, his fingernails turning white as he digs them into the table. "Lily, listen to me!"
Confused and hurt, she climbs to her feet. And, as she does so, the blood leaks from Severus' face. His eyes, trained on her bump, are wide with pure horror. His lips form words, but the sound has been stolen. "Severus, look," she begins gently.
"N-no, no, Lily, you have to go. Oh my God – what have I done? What have I done?!"
As she raises her hand to calm Severus' outburst, the world turns black. An ear-splitting and simultaneous crack sounds and the little room is filled with bodies, swathed in hoods and silver masks. A laugh sounds, high and cruel. Wands are raised.
And before the daggers of green can meet their mark, Severus dives across the table and grasps her arm. She is lurched from the earth, pain as her companion, a scream snatched from her throat as her lungs are crushed. What seems like hours later, Lily slams into the earth, her vision swimming. There is blood between her legs. Someone screams her name. "My baby," she moans, unable to summon the energy to lift her hands to her abdomen. "Is my baby safe?"
Someone is crying. Her vision clears slightly and there are faces swimming above her.
As she lies there, immobile, closer to death than life, she sees a thousand shards of a sparkling amethyst scattered across the cold ground.
A/N: This is a one-shot written for the Fairy Tales Challenge from Diagon Alley II, based on the 'Rumpelstiltskin' prompt.
I realise that, technically, this isn't the loss of a firstborn, per se, but I thought it was close enough.
Prompts
Word – amethyst
Photo – diamond shattering.