I was three months pregnant when I died. It was a little girl, we discovered that from some old witches wand tricks, and James wanted to name her Daisy - to stick with the flower theme, he'd said. We hadn't told anyone, mainly because it really wasn't one of those things that were supposed to happen - we were in hiding, after all. But can you blame us? Cut off from our friends, our family, everyone we loved - not allowed to leave the house without Dumbledore's permission or someone to guard us. All James and I had were each other, each other and Harry, of course. He was a year old now, just started to talk. His first words were "daddy" even though I begged and pleaded for him to say "mummy" first, but he just wouldn't. I was growing restless, pouring my entire being into my husband and my son. The only time I was truly happy was when we were in bed, James' lips desperately crushed against my own, bare skin against bare skin, two parts becoming one whole. I needed him, and he needed me. We were trying our best to remain strong for our son but as the days grew longer and colder it grew harder and harder. So we decided that I would stop taking the contraceptive potion - maybe things would be better if we gave Harry a little brother or a little sister. Of course I got pregnant on Harry's first birthday - fate's way of being funny, I assume. And as I felt the life growing inside of me, it was like a peace settling over my body - as long as I had James, Harry, and the newest little one, everything would be fine. We would make it through this. Someone would find Voldemort and destroy him. We'd be able to come out of hiding, settle down - for real this time. We'd raise our babies, then have more babies. Gods, I could have had a million babies with James if I'd been given the chance. When we were married we promised that we'd be together forever, an unbreakable vow, an eternity with the man I was madly in love with. I never wanted this for us. I never wanted this for my son. I never wanted this for my daughter.
Sometimes, I wish we'd been born normal, James and I. Perhaps things would have been different.