When he lies awake, deep in the night, he can almost pretend that Lily is still alive. That she chose him, not Potter. That she'll come walking through the door to their bedroom, red hair mussed, wrapped in her robe.
Our baby will sleep for a few hours, she says, as she slips into bed beside him. She rolls against him, and her hand drifts across his belly, and then lower.
You don't have to ...
She smiles against him. I want to, she says. To keep our marriage strong.
When he finishes, there are tears on his cheeks.