This is the start of my first fanfiction with more than one chapter.
I own nothing of Harry Potter.
This chapter might not seem to have anything with Harry Potter to do, but it will come.
Reviews are much welcome!
Chapter 1 : So this is Christmas, I hope you have fun
It was cold outside. It was winter, so the cold was not surprising, but it seemed colder than the winter the year before. Snowflakes fell gently from the dark sky and the stars shone brightly, just like the streetlamps stationing in London. Though the clock was nearing seven, the streets were full of people shopping their last Christmas things for the holiday that was occurring five days from now.
A woman stood alone and peered at a sales window full of clothes on thin models with inhumanly perfection. She found the models stupid, but she wished she would be able to get into clothes like that again. She sighed heavily and looked down at her stomach who was hidden under her fur coat so it made her look like an oversized meatball. Before she became pregnant she had been thin. She had even been beautiful. She took after her father, her mother once told her. He had had the same cheekbones, nose and lips. The only things she had inherit from her mother was her dark brown hair, blue eyes and thin frame. Even if all that was gone now. Her body wasn't thin, her hair had lost its light, her eyes were tired and her face was swollen and a bit wrinkled. She thought she had never looked more hideous.
The clock struck seven. A group of people passed her as the lights in the clothes shop was turned off. They wished her a Merry Christmas and she could only managed a stiff nod. They laughed anyway and continued their walk, bags swaying around them. She thought they looked like a pack of colorful birds.
She debated if she should go home to her apartment or continue waltzing the streets of London a little bit more. She decided to stay. London was a beautiful city and she had nothing at her apartment that attracted her to go home. No, she would rather stay out. She started to walk again, desperately trying to gain some heat in the cold.
Merry music played on a square, but she didn't sing along like the other people.
" . . . . we wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year! "
' You can always wish ' , she thought bitterly , ' but there's no such thing as magic. '
The baby in her stomach chose that moment to kick, as though disagreeing with its mother's thoughts. She scoffed and wished once again that she didn't have to go through with this.
While she stood there, she watched a family of three standing a bit away from her. The parents were laughing, watching their little girl trying to catch snowflakes with her tiny, shroud clad hands. The man was whispering something to his wife and she giggled when he kissed her cheek. The little girl returned to stand with her parents and they all sung the last of the song together: the man with his deep voice, the woman with her warm voice and the girl with her high, childish voice.
The sight made her both sad and angry. Sad, because she knew she would never have that and angry, because she wished to have what the family had. Her mother had told her from an early aged that men was nothing but trouble.
" Guard your heart , my dear " , her mother had said. Guard it carefully , because a man would tear it apart just because he can."
She always said that and to her dying day she had thought so. Her mother had been young and beautiful when she was going to marry the man of her dreams: tall, dark, handsome and rich. A perfect match, it was said. And then he enveloped with another woman. Her mother was distraught and pregnant. That was when she had started to despise men. She never remarried and took care of her daughter by her own. Not even when the man came back would she meet him and he would certainly not see their daughter. She had moved away from the little village she had been raised in and started a new life in London. Neither mother or daughter knew what happened to the man after that. It was all history.
Now, when she stood here in the cold, she could really need her mother's advice. She had made a fool of herself, getting pregnant with a complete stranger who she didn't even know his name. They had both been drunk and she could not remember a thing afterwards. Except that the man had had lovely eyes, dark green like a pines needles. Those eyes would forever haunt her memories and sometimes she could remember words he had spoken. It disgusted her to no end what she had been forced to do. What would her poor mother have said? She felt a heavy weight at that thought. Her mother would have been disappointed.
Sometimes she could think back and wonder why she didn't do an abortion. She would have been free from all this then. But the thought of murder did scare her and she thought this was God's will, so something good must come out of this. That's what she prayed for even if God seemed not to listen to her prayers.
She started to get colder even though she was wearing a thick coat. The choir stood in a huddle, trying to warm each other, and sang Silent night. The few people who watched had tears in their eyes and seemed perfectly content with the feeling before Christmas. A perfect beginning, a chance to do something good, to meet loved once and to care for each other. Family. Friendship. Love. Hope.
She saw the little family of three leaving the square. The girl was asleep in her father's arms. He would keep her safe. Further away, a gang of young men raised their beers and shouting out to the Christmas time to never end. An old couple, hand in hand, walking with their dog smiled at it all. They gave her a warm smile when they passed her, wished her happy Christmas and prayed for her baby to be healthy. She managed a smile and a ' thank you '. But the smile vanished when the couple disappeared down the street.
The sky was even darker than before and its velvet like shape gave her a feeling of a never-ending dream. A dream that she did not know if she should call it a nightmare or not. The choir's last tunes died out and the people left clapped. She did to, but mostly out of habit. She didn't feel the joy. She didn't feel a thing.
She started to walk away. The city was lightened up by Christmas lights in unnatural bright colors. Another might have found it beautiful, but she thought it unnecessary.
The baby kicked again and she felt her water broke. Her eyes widened and the panic started to flow into her. She fell down on the pavement, her body aching and feeling as though it was on fire. The snow fell down and she let out a scream. She screamed and wanted the pain to stop. She wanted to disappear, to the pain to end. She longed to be back with her mother. She even longed to be alone in her apartment. It started to become black before her eyes and she could feel her throat getting red by her screams and cold air. She wanted to die.
While busying screaming, she didn't notice the people surrounding her. Some of them belonged to the choir and some was just hurrying past by. Their voices didn't mean much to her, just a mindless chattering.
"Oh my!"
"Someone call an ambulance!"
"Try make her sit up!"
"Are you out of your mind?!"
"What's her name? Does somebody know?"
"There's a phone booth around the corner . . . . "
"Don't just stand here, make a call!"
" She's going to give birth . . . . "
Voices. So many voices. What were they saying, she wondered. Did they care? She didn't. Why couldn't they be quite? And who was screaming like a madwomen? She realized it was herself that screamed, that made those terrible sounds that could destroy mountains and tearing the sky down. A gaily red Christmas light came into her vision, mixing with the black, and she felt like puking. She didn't know if she did it or not. She just wanted it to be over.
Someone took a hold of her hand and held it tightly. She dug her fingers into it as though it was a lifesaver.
"Don't worry" , a female voice said soothingly and for a mad moment she thought it was her mother, " it will be fine. The ambulance is on its way. Just breath . . . . "
She tried to, but couldn't remember how to do it. The cold made her weak and she had never really thought of how glorious the suns heat could be. If it could be over, she would never take the sun for granted again. Never.
The voices were slowly fading. She didn't know where her body begun and where it end, just that it hurt. It hurt so much. Tears sprang from her eyes, unable to stop. It was just a little voice in her head telling her that she would do fine, that it would be alright. She chose to believe it.
Somewhere, she didn't know where, rang the sound of ambulance sirens and the clock struck eight.
. . . .
Everything happened in a blur. She cursed, screamed and didn't know what was real or not. She called for her mother, she called for her father, a man she had never known and for the one responsible for her pregnancy.
White. She could only see white. She blinked and pain seared through her body. She was in a hospital bed. Nurses were around her, talking. She didn't hear a thing. She screamed and she knew it would soon be over. The baby was on its way.
"Push" , a nurse egged on. "Push. Just a little bit more, I can see a bit of the head. You're doing great ."
Perhaps it was a lie, because she didn't feel that she did great. Still, she pushed with all her might while screaming and crying. How could a woman be made for this? For this pain and suffering.
"That's good, that's good " , praised the nurse, " just a little bit more . . . . "
She pushed and she felt relived. It was as though the whole world lift from her shoulders. She even dared to smile. Another scream rang in the room. A baby's scream.
"Ah, look at her. You have a beautiful daughter " , cooed one of the nurses and laid a bundle of blankets in her arms.
She was too weak to protest. She looked down at her daughter and it was like looking at a photograph of herself as a baby. There was no trace of the baby's father at all as far as she could she. It made her happy.
"She looks like you " , one of the younger nurses, a pale girl with doe eyes, said shyly.
"She does, doesn't she? " she asked and felt for the first time that everything would be alright.
"What's your name , dear? " the nurse in command asked. " No one could tell and there was nobody here to see you. "
"I haven't expected anyone to be " , she said honestly, "and my name is . . . . "
Just then, the baby opened her eyes. They were dark green, like a pines needles.
She felt her arms go limp and the scream that followed was one of madness.
"Take her away! Take her away!" she yelled with all her might. "I don't want her!"
The nurses tried to calm her down. The baby cried. She was shaking so much and waving her arms in madness that she would have dropped the child if not a nurse had snatched her away.
The nurse whispered soothing words and left the room with instructions to take her to doctor Willies who was responsible of the child ward.
The nurses who stayed tried to calm her down, but with no success. She had a panic attack and eventually they had to drug her down just so she would be calm. She saw only black.
. . . .
" . . . . don't know what to do . . . . "
" . . . . have a name . . . . "
" . . . . strange reactions . . . . "
The voices continued in hushed whispers. She felt groggy and dizzy. Water would be much welcome now because her throat was dry and aching. Slowly, she sat up and swept her hair out of her eyes. It was wet of sweat.
"Ah , you're awake " , said the older looking nurse briskly, but with a weary look. " You had quite the seizure . "
Her mind was buzzing. Those eyes . . . . She got an expression of tasting something foul.
"Can I have some water, please? " she asked politely.
"Of course " , the nurse answered and waved to another nurse to get one.
"What's happened to my baby? I don't want her, but what will happen? Can I put her up for adoption? I can't take care of her. I won't take care of her!"
The nurse looked at her and her face was troubled. The other nurse came back with a glass of water and handed it over to her. She accepted it gracefully.
"Why won't you keep her? You are young, what's happened to you?"
She drank the last water, glaring at the nurse taking in her worried face and kind eyes. She sneered.
" My business is my own " , she said harshly and the nurse looked shocked. "I'm over eighteen so I can make my own decisions."
Both were silent for a while. Then the nurse said:
"You daughter can be put for adoption, but she will need a name. At least a first name. I will call on doctor Willies. He's in charge for the children's ward. "
. . . .
The doctor was an old man, nearing his sixties. Yet when he came into the room, he stood tall and determined. She didn't like him.
Like the nurse, he asked her a lot of questions and she answered them shortly and rude.
"Call her Lyanna" , she said to them, the doctor and the nurse. "Call her Lyanna, because her whole existence is a lie. "
The nurse looked mortified by her hateful face and spiteful voice. The doctor just looked sad.
Lyanna was born at twelve o'clock in the morning, 21st December in 1959.
