You're sitting at the kitchen table when Alice floos in, staring bleakly at your cold, weak tea, wondering how you're going to tell James.
She steps into the room, brushing off the ash and jubilantly declaring that she has exciting news.
One look at you and she breaks off mid-sentence, taking in your wrinkled pyjamas, tangled hair, and red eyes, and rushes over to you, asking if something is wrong.
You lose it then.
You cling tightly to her while you cry, Alice, the girl who has been a better older sister than Petunia ever was.
She rubs soothing circles on your back and lets you sob, telling you that everything will be okay.
It won't-it can't be-but she doesn't know this, yet.
A moment later, you pull away and sprint to the sink, emptying your stomach. You lean heavily on the counter-top, resting your forehead against the cool white tile. Alice fills a cup with water for you to rinse out your mouth and asks you if you're sick.
You tell her, then. You tell her what no one else knows, yet, and all your fears and doubts regarding your secret.
You're pregnant.
You're going to have a baby.
Alice smiles brightly and congratulates you.
How can she be so joyful? You are bringing an innocent baby into a world filled with violence, blood, and war. A war you are intimately involved with.
When you tell her this, she touches your cheek softly and shakes her head. Then she tells you her news.
She's pregnant, too.
Alice is having a baby.
Until now, you've felt like the only pregnant woman in the world.
You start crying again, and she cries with you. This time, your tears are of happiness and reassurance, and, most likely, your crazy pregnant hormones.
In the midst of this war, you are creating life rather than destroying it.
The thought gives you hope, and suddenly, you can't wait to tell James.