Disclaimer: Just borrowing

Simple Gifts

September, 1990

"How could you have let this happen?" her mother yelled, irate.

"I didn't mean to, it was an accident!" Ava insisted desperately.

"I should bloody well hope so," her mother snapped, her voice low and gritty. "After everything your father and I gave up so you could dance, after everything we did for you, I should hope that you getting yourself knocked up would be an accident!"

Ava didn't reply and fought back the tears that formed in her eyes. She had nothing to say. She glanced at her father, hoping that he would understand or be a little more yielding than her mother. He didn't meet her eyes, and his jaw was set. As far as he was concerned, he no longer had a daughter.

"Mum, please …" Ava began quietly, looking up from the ground.

"I don't want to hear it," her mother cut in, waving her hand dismissively. "Unless you intend to tell me that you're going to get rid of that … that thing … and keep dancing like we all planned, then I don't want to hear it."

A sob caught in Ava's throat; she had expected her parents to understand. She had known they wouldn't be happy with her, but assumed they would at least begrudgingly support her. She needed them now, more than she ever had. Weren't they supposed to be here for her? Wasn't that what parents did?

"Mum, I … I can't," she said softly, staring at her feet. "I just can't."

Her mother was Ice personified.

"Then get out."

November, 1990

The hardest thing Ava had ever had to do was tell her instructor Miss Debbie she was leaving the company. She waited until after the morning kinder-dance class was done, all the hopeful little ballerinas twittering away as they changed back into their street clothes, and let herself into the studio.

Miss Debbie was standing near the front of the mirrored room, looking through a magazine that was sitting on top of the piano. She glanced up as Ava approached, and nodded an acknowledgment.

"Miss Phillips," she said briskly. Miss Debbie had never been overly talkative or gushing, but Ava noticed a chill in her voice that usually wasn't there.

"Miss Debbie," she replied quietly, giving a habitual curtsy of sorts. "I … I guess you know why I'm here." The bulge from her baby was now more than a cute little bump.

"No, I don't know why you are here," Miss Debbie replied, slightly harsh. She had gone back to her magazine, and hadn't looked up since. "Don't assume these things."

Ava gulped, and took a deep breath.

"Well, I … I have to leave the company. To resign."

"Have you been offered a position elsewhere?"

Somewhere deep inside, Ava laughed at the thought. If she were not, as she had heard someone far more frank than her put it, up the pole, people would be throwing themselves at her, begging her to join their school. But now with this blasted pregnancy, she would be lucky to find any sort of work ever again.

"No," Ava said simply, examining her hands to keep from looking at her beloved teacher. "I'm … I'm having a baby, so I have to leave."

A pause.

"But you'll be coming back of course, once you've had it?" Miss Debbie's voice was so matter-of-fact that it didn't sound like a question at all.

" … No, I won't be able to," Ava said, wiping an errant tear away in frustration. "It's just, the father left before I could tell him and … I don't know how to get a hold of him to let him know, so I'll have to raise the baby myself…"

"I see."

It was silent for a few minutes between the two women. The little girls had all changed now, and were coming out of the back dressing room, all chattering animatedly. One of them noticed Ava, and beamed at her as she waved happily. Ava had been the principle dancer, something of a celebrity to the rest of the school, and as she returned the little girl's wave, she couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness as she thought of everything she was giving up.

Once the girls had all left, Miss Debbie turned back to Ava and said,

"I guess that's that then. You were going to be Clara for this year's Nutcracker, but I suppose it will be Marcy now."

Marcy Gavner was the first soloist, and one of the few girls Ava had never been able to get along with. It made her angry that this great honor was going to her, but there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

"I'm sorry…" Ava said quietly, turning to leave. It was all she could think to say.

At first she thought Miss Debbie hadn't heard her, and was nearly at the door when she heard her teacher reply,

"I am too."

"I … I know." Ava didn't even try to fight the tears anymore. "I just… I just can't give this up, it wouldn't be right."

"In time we'll see," Miss Debbie said in that same rigid tone. Obviously she didn't think her star pupil was making the right choice. When she spoke again, though, her voice was kinder, softer. "I will miss you, Ava. You would have gone far, and I would have loved to go there with you."

Ava couldn't think of anything to say, only nodded. Crossing the room, she hugged Miss Debbie, who after her initial shock at this show of affection, softened and returned the gesture. Wiping tears from her eyes, Ava pulled away and left the room quickly, before she could disgrace herself further.

March 15, 1991

She couldn't believe how beautiful he was. His wrinkly little hands, cute button nose, the tiny tuft of red hair he'd most certainly gotten from his dad. In the months preceding this day, with all the sorrow and anger and fear, there had been one emotion that Ava completely overlooked.

Love.

April, 1993

"Oh my God, Ava! Is that you?"

Ava turned, and searched for the voice who called. James, newly two years old, also looked, sucking his thumb all the while.

It turned out to be Marcy Gavner, and she was fighting her way through the crowds in Diagon Alley. Behind her were two more of Ava's former fellow dancers, Brianne Calvin and Julie Van Horn. They were all trendily dressed, dance bags slung over their shoulders, and Ava felt the tiniest stab of envy as they approached. She still missed her daily dance classes, even though it had been two and half years since her last one.

"Hello," she said, more stiff than usual. James waved errantly at her with his free hand. It was then that Marcy noticed him. She squealed loudly.

"Oh is that your baby?" she asked, voice three octaves higher than usual. Ava thought that was possibly the dumbest question in the entire world, and replied,

"No, I stole him from an old lady in Madame Malkin's a few minutes ago."

For this she received a blank stare, and Julie asked disbelievingly,

"Really?"

"…Yeah."

"You don't have to be so rude, I was only asking," Marcy said, her voice returning to its usual condescending nature. "After all, I'd heard … things."

"That I'd had a baby?" Ava said evenly. "Because that's true. His name is James." Marcy looked at her appraisingly for a few moments, ignoring the redheaded baby as he waved excitedly at her with a huge smile, and said with a cold drawl,

"Well, I'd always thought you went to a different company, assuming you wouldn't be stupid enough to have thrown away everything you had going for you. I guess I was wrong, though."

"I guess you were," Ava replied snippily, and turned sharply on her heel, swishing away with her head held high.

January, 1995

Ava looked around her apartment, smiling contentedly.

"It's good to be back," she said, taking a sip of her tea as she settled herself on the couch beside Bill Weasley. He had come back to England last summer and found out everything, and surprised Ava by being entirely eager to help with James. Now, he sighed wistfully and replied,

"Yeah … I'm going to miss Egypt, though."

Ava nodded, understanding completely. It was hard to give up something that meant so much, to walk away from everything she'd ever worked for. Though she had found unexpected solace in raising her little boy, she had doubted that Bill would, and so had never told him about their son.

"Look, mummy! Daddy!" James said, pulling excitedly on the leg of his mother's jeans. "I made it, look!"

He was pointing at a small pile of blocks that were stacked in a lopsided but unmistakable pyramid. Both adults smiled, and Bill said,

"I guess I won't have to miss Egypt after all, if the pyramids are right here."

James laughed, and scrambled into his father's lap.

"Yes, that's right," he said matter-of-factly, sticking his thumb in his mouth and closing his eyes contentedly. "I made it better."

And he had.

A/N: So I wrote this as the final paper for my Comp II class (yay for having cool profs who let us write fanfic). I had a limit of six double spaced pages, which is insanely short for me, and needed to have a "conflict of identity" as the main plot.. This is what I came up with.

Reviews are love.