Her mother and father often fought when she was little. She would sit up on her bed, determinedly playing with her dolls as she heard the sounds of screaming. Before long she would hear the front door open and slam shut, then the sound of a car starting up. She would race to her bedroom window just in time to see her mother’s car recklessly swerve out of the driveway and disappear down the road.
There was no doubt that she loved her parents and she knew they loved her as well. Even still, it didn’t stop her from wondering where her mother went when she drove off like that. It didn’t stop her from fearing that her mother would go off someday and never return. When she was only seven she had finally asked her mother where she went, her green eyes large in fear. Her mother had bent down, taken her hands and told her, “Sometimes I just want to go for a drive. Sometimes I just want to go nowhere as fast as I can. When things are bad, it just makes me feel better. Can you understand that, baby?”
She had told her mother she could. Yet every fight that led her mother out to the car led her to watch her mother drive off. She would almost always fall asleep on the window seat, waiting for her mother to return. Her parents never did divorce, despite how often they fought and how much they grew to hate each other. Good Catholic couples simply did not divorce. In the end however it didn’t matter. She was nineteen years old when her mother never returned from a late night drive.
But it wasn’t a fast drive to nowhere. Her mother hadn’t been alone. Her father had been there as well. They had both been in the car, driving to see her at her new house, when a Muggle drunk driver had rammed his car into theirs, killing them both on impact.
“This one’s for you, Mum,” Lily Potter thought to herself as her foot slammed on the accelerator and the used car her father had gotten her three years ago sped off down the dark street. Her bright green eyes darted to the speedometer again and again and watched the thin red line move further and further up, passing forty, passing fifty, passing sixty.
If her friends could see her right now, they wouldn’t know it was her. If her husband could see her at this instant, he wouldn’t know it was her. Her own parents wouldn’t even know it was her. Even with her trademark, shocking red curls whipping around her face from the wind of the open window, they wouldn’t believe it could possibly be her. Lily Potter was not a reckless person. Lily Potter did not do spontaneous, reckless, stupid things. Lily Potter enjoyed curling up in front of a roaring fire with a good book of poetry. Lily Potter enjoyed her job healing children at St. Mungos. Lily Potter enjoyed watching the sunrise and the burst of color that littered the sky. Lily Potter didn’t enjoy doing careless, dangerous things.
Despite it all, here she was, speeding to nowhere. “What else do I have to do?” she asked aloud, watching her breath disappear into the air. It was a freezing November night and since entering the old car she hadn’t put up the window or even put on the heat.
Not even bothering to be upset, Lily took her hand from the wheel and her eyes from the abandoned road ahead and turned to jab at the heat button. At her command the car was flushed with heat, just in time for Lily to look up and see a monstrous fire in the road ahead, burning on nothing as her car headed straight for it.
She swerved to avoid it and was off-road in an instant. She slammed on the brakes, clutching the now useless steering wheel with white-knuckled hands. The speedometer had reached nearly seventy however, and she was helpless to stop the car from slamming into a tree with a sickening thud. Her whole body jerked forward and slammed into the steering wheel, knocking the wind out of her.
She sat back in her seat with bruised ribs and a single cut on her forehead, a small trickle of blood dripping down the side of her face. She could just barely see the large tree trunk that had smashed the front of her car in. The windshield wasn’t even broken and she was practically unharmed. “Is this a joke?” she asked to no one. She hadn’t wanted to die, despite how much she may have acted like it. But how the hell hadn’t she died? It wasn’t physically possible ” she should have died on impact, just as her parents did. Her hands jumped to her unharmed stomach for a moment, before immediately banishing such pesky thoughts. Her hands traveled to the cut on her forehead, once again causing her to wonder at the little harm she had received.
She was pulled from her thoughts as something fell on the windshield with a loud thud. She stared at the round object, trying and failing to decipher what it was. A moment later there was another thud and a second object fell onto the car, this time forcing a large crack to spread across the windshield. A third object fell an instant later, accompanied with yet another thud.
Gaining control of herself, Lily forced her sore arms to push the door open and she tumbled from the car, her face hitting the ground painfully and shoving muddy grass into her mouth. Spitting it out she kicked herself the rest of the way out of the car before lying there with a heaving chest, staring up at a star studded sky, her body sprawled at an odd angle as the cold air made her nose, ears and fingers tingle unpleasantly.
At the sound of another thud, curiosity sparked inside her. She forced herself to her elbows before taking a deep breathe and going to her knees and after another moment to her feet. She was most certainly tired, but otherwise unharmed. “It’s impossible,” she muttered to herself. “I’m probably bleeding internally . . . or something.” Another thud drew her attention back to the car. She limped a few feet forward and lifted one of the objects off the car. Holding it in her hand for a moment, confusion spreading through her, she brought it to her mouth and took a bite. It was sweet and delicious.
She glanced at the tree as she saw another one fall onto the windshield. “Good Merlin,” she muttered to herself. “Not only did I just ram into a tree at seventy miles an hour and lived, but I ran into an apple tree ” in November! Not to mention there was a fire in the road””
As the memory of the fire surfaced to the front of her mind, she whirled around. There was no fire there. There was nothing there. Lily cupped her hand to her mouth and let out a deep breath, attempting to smell any trace of alcohol. All she smelt was the chocolate cake she had for lunch and the apple from a moment before.
“I’ve got to be drunk . . . or dreaming,” Lily mumbled as she rubbed at her ear, having heard a soft buzzing. “Time to wake me up, James,” Lily said aloud. The only response was for the buzzing to grow louder. “Sounds like . . . bees. . . .” Lily whispered to herself. “Impossible,” she muttered. The idea of bees in London in the middle of the night in November was not plausible. She heard a thud and saw that another apple had fallen on the car. “An apple tree in November is one thing,” she reasoned, speaking aloud as though there was someone to hear her, as though someone was trying to argue with her. “A bee is another, there are no bees.”
There was no one there however, and talking to them wouldn’t make them appear. The only thing there was that constant buzzing. “Sirius! Sirius, is this a joke?” she called out. She knew it couldn’t possibly be as no one had seen him since he went after his brother, Regulus, two weeks ago. The buzzing had grown much louder now, but she refused to look for bees at night, in the cold, in the winter. She wasn’t going to strain her eyes for something that couldn’t exist. It was simply impractical. She rubbed her ear irritably, believing it to be the source of trouble. The buzzing didn’t stop however and a moment later she felt a sharp sting in her neck. Hesitantly she turned around found herself standing a foot away from a large swarm of bees. The impossibility of it was immediately washed away by her fear of bees. She turned and ran as fast as she could with a sore, bruised body.
They had been right behind her, yet somehow they had yet to overtake her and sting her mercilessly. She glanced behind her and saw they trailed her by a few feet, just far enough to keep her running. For a moment she thought of stopping and pulling out her wand, but it required too much effort even to think about. Her lungs were bursting and her legs were heavier with each step. When her heavy eyes saw the house relief spread through her, spurring her on.
Up ahead was a small log cabin looking right out of picture, complete with a thick column of smoke spiraling out of the chimney. Regardless of the fact that she was well aware that cabin had never been there in all the times she had driven by this place, she ran to it desperately.
She pounded on the front door, crying out for help. An instant later the door swung open and without even having to explain herself she was ushered into the house. The door was quickly shut behind her and the bees locked out. She stood there stupidly, taking in haggard breaths as she leaned against the wall and let the warmth of the small house wash over her. When her senses returned, her eyes fell on the tiny little woman who had unquestionably invited her into the house.
She had dark black hair piled messily atop her head. Her face was tan and her eyes a daring purple that enthralled Lily. It was the least of her odd appearance however. There was an air of magnificence about her, as though she was someone important and well aware of it. While she was quite beautiful, it was impossible to guess her age. She seemed both as young as Lily and old enough to be mother. Her robes looked to be an explosion of red, yellow, black and white and around her neck were a number of pendants of animals. It was a wonder she didn’t fall over from the weight of all the shawls and scarves and robes that littered her figure. Her fingers featured a number of ancient rings and long, bright red nails. “What ever is the matter?” the woman asked with a heavy Irish accent, observing Lily as closely as Lily observed her.
“I’m awfully sorry to just intrude like this, but my car crashed into a tree and then these bees were chasing me and I saw your house and I thought perhaps I could catch my breath here,” Lily quickly explained apologetically. Even as she said it Lily thought it sounded ridiculous, but the woman didn’t seem to think so.
Instead, the woman smiled warmly. “I’ll always welcome a fellow witch,” she said kindly. She crossed the small room to a tiny kitchen and put her attention to a large, black kettle whistling loudly on an ancient stove.
“How did you know I was a witch?” Lily asked as the woman silenced the whistling. The woman’s robes had given her identity away to Lily, yet this was a Muggle town and Lily was wearing Muggle clothing, her wand tucked away in a hidden pocket of her jacket.
“It’s not hard to tell,” the woman shrugged her shoulders, as though that was really the only explanation she had. In another time and place Lily would have insisted on a better answer, but in this log cabin with a sore and aching body after surviving a car crash she shouldn’t have survived and being chased by bees that shouldn’t exist, Lily just couldn’t make herself care.
“Tea?” the woman held the kettle up for Lily to see. Lily nodded her head gratefully and tentatively went further into the house, settling herself down on an old and worn but plush and comfortable chair.
“I’m Lily by the way, Lily Potter,” Lily told her as the woman gave her a buttercup yellow-patterned cup and sat down in the chair opposite her with a cup of her own.
“Bridget,” the woman answered, smiling as she took a large gulp of tea without even blowing on it. She said nothing more, not even asking Lily a single question. She simply sipped her tea, staring at her guest with a knowing little smile that began to make Lily uncomfortable.
“Have you lived here long?” Lily finally asked, breaking the silence.
“No, actually, I move around often.” Lily nodded her head, not knowing what else to say. Before she could scrounge up another weak question, Bridget finally asked one of her own. “Tell me Lily, does your husband know you’re here?”
Lily frowned slightly, her brow creasing. “Well no, but I mean, how could he? I didn’t plan this or anything. And how did you know I was married? I’m not wearing my ring.” A small pang of guilt hit Lily as she said the words. When she’d first been married she couldn’t go five minutes without glancing at the ring on her finger. Now however, it was only a reminder of the husband she hardly ever saw anymore. So she’d simply stopped wearing it. It wasn’t as though he was around anymore to notice.
“Did you plan to crash your car?” Bridget asked as though asking Lily about her shirt.
“No, of course I didn’t!” Lily replied indignantly.
“Then why were you going down the road at seventy miles an hour?” Lily gawked at her. “Now really Lily,” Bridget said with a toothy little smile, “You didn’t think any good could come from driving like that?”
“How did you know I was driving”?”
“I saw you out my window, obviously,” Bridget nodded her head in the direction of small red curtains hiding a window. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you hit the tree, I would have gone to help you.” Lily nodded, unable to think of a response. Instead, she blew on her tea and took a timid little sip to find it was still scalding hot. She glanced around the room for lack of anything better to do, quickly realizing there were no other doors and the house consisted of this room alone. Beyond a small kitchen table, stove, sink and a fire burning merrily in a large, stone fireplace, there wasn’t much else to the room.
“So are you going to tell me why you were speeding along at seventy on a dark, abandoned road at eleven at night, Lily?” Lily blushed slightly. Bridget’s tone reminded her of that tone her mother would take when she would ask Lily why she had done something wrong.
“My parents just died in a car crash,” Lily admitted.
“Oh I see,” Bridget smiled calmly. “You wanted to join them, then.”
“What ” no! I didn’t ” no!” Lily said, nearly dropping her tea all down her blouse. “I was just . . . letting off a little steam, that’s all.” She received a skeptical smile. “Look, don’t go judging me!” Lily burst out angrily, slamming her tea down angrily and not even noticing it slosh onto the small table as she stood up. “You don’t know anything about me!”
“Then tell me,” Bridget said calmly, placing her tea down as well, albeit more gently. In any other situation Lily would have had the good sense to sit down and say nothing. It was common sense not to pour your secrets out to complete strangers who hand you tea. But Lily had hardly talked to anyone in the last few months, and she had never had more to say. It flew from her lips before she had time to think about it.
“Fine! Fine! You want to know about me, do you? I’m nineteen years old and I just received a call from my sister telling me to come to our childhood home immediately. I go and the next thing I know she’s screaming at me that our parents just died in a car crash, and it’s all my fault since they were on their way to see me! She told me she hated me and everything about me and she never wanted to see me again! Do you know what that’s like? One moment you’re being told your parents are dead and before you can even take a breath your own sister is blaming you at the top of her lungs!”
“Is that all?” Bridget asked with an emotionless face.
“No, no it is not!” Lily declared. The death of her own parents wasn’t even the brunt of her misery. “All my friends are fighting in the war against You-Know-Who and are in constant danger. We thought it was the right thing to do, to join the fight against evil. But now, all I know is that any of us could die at any moment! My friend Marlene already has! I’ve known her since we were eleven years old and she was just cruelly murdered two weeks ago!” Lily screamed at Bridget, growing more and more agitated at how unaffected the woman seemed. Before Lily could stop herself, she was off again.
“Nine out of ten nights I don’t even know where my husband is, I don’t know if he’s safe or lying dead on some back alley, killed by Death Eaters! Do you know what that’s like? Do you?! Do you?! I don’t even know why I’m fighting in this stupid war anymore! I DON’T EVEN HAVE ANYTHING LEFT TO FIGHT FOR!”
Lily let out a deep breath, breathing heavily as she swayed slightly on her feet. As Bridget simply stared at her, her rational side quickly returned and her neck and ears burned red in embarrassment. She had shrieked at a woman simply for being kind. She had just poured out all her woes at the top of her lungs to a complete stranger.
“My son was killed in a war years ago. Do you know what that is like, Lily Potter?” Bridget asked. She didn’t seem angry at all. She was simply talking, her face blank and her voice emotionless. “If you want to know real pain, Lily, watch your innocent baby boy die. Then you may cry to me.”
“I don’t have a son,” Lily muttered, still quite ashamed at her outburst.
“You will,” Bridget told her. “You will love him more than anyone or anything in the world.” She looked at Lily for a moment before breaking eye contact to once again take a sip of tea. Lily’s tea had long since gone from scalding hot to stone cold and she hadn’t drunk more than a drop.
“I don’t think I’ll ever have any children,” Lily admitted, sinking back down into the chair. “I used to want to ” I wanted four or five children, at the least!” she laughed rather bitterly, at though at the insanity of her own idea.
“Why have you changed your mind?” Bridget asked.
“I wouldn’t be a very good mother,” Lily replied. She didn’t know when she had come to that decision. James still believed she wanted to have children. Then again, she hadn’t talked to James about that sort of thing in months.
“And how would you know that?” Bridget asked, the first signs of emotion peaking through on her face. Lily only shrugged her shoulders rather than answer. Bridget shook her head. “You’ll be an excellent mother. I know it.” She paused. “You are an amazing woman, Lily Potter. I always knew you would be,” she smiled almost proudly. She set her tea down and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest and observing Lily keenly.
“What do you mean?” Lily asked. This woman was obviously crazy, but she was nice nonetheless, even after Lily was so terribly rude. Lily knew she should be getting home, but she wouldn’t be any more rude.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Bridget said, smiling at Lily. Before Lily could protest that she would decide as much for herself, Bridget went on. “I never had a daughter, you see, only three sons. Now I loved my sons, of course, but I always wanted a daughter. I wanted someone who shared my love for poetry, who loved to heal others as I did, who loved the home and family as much as I do. Do you like poetry, Lily?”
“Yes, I do. I’m dreadful at it though,” Lily admitted.
“I love it, perhaps more than most anything else. I’ve never been able to write it very well myself, but there is something so peaceful about poetry, don’t you think?”
“Yes, my mother used to read me poems before I went to sleep,” Lily said, smiling at the thought. “When I first went to Hogwarts I could hardly fall asleep without them.” Bridget nodded, clearly pleased.
“Your mother was a lucky woman, to have you for a daughter.” Lily didn’t say anything in reply. Though she knew her mother loved her, she sometimes wondered how much her mother loved being a mother. As Lily attempted to shake the thoughts from her mind, Bridget reached forward and took Lily’s hands into her own.
“You are an amazing woman, Lily Potter, but you are so terribly lost and scared. I know you will be alright, though. I know it.”
“How can you say that?” Lily asked, shaking her head unbelievably. At first Bridget didn’t answer, but when she did, Lily was slightly surprised by what she said.
“My husband and I came from two warring families and though we loved each other very much, our families could not see past their differences and went on fighting.” She took a moment to stare at Lily intently, her purple eyes darkening. “You too were born into a family that never quite understood you and your magic. You too are surrounded by war, a war that you hate, a war that tears apart your life and takes your husband from you.”
Lily didn’t know what was happening, but Bridget had a firm grip on her hands and her glowing purple eyes had Lily practically captivated. Suddenly she found herself hanging on every word Bridget said.
“When my son was killed, I was devastated. After that I fought, not in the war but for peace. I helped bring it to my family in the end. You too, Lily Potter, will help bring peace to the people you love. That’s why I know you will be alright. You are just like me, Lily, and in the end, I was alright.” Lily didn’t know what war Bridget was talking about and she could hardly comprehend what she was being told, yet she was oddly comforted by it nonetheless. “But there is one thing very different between you and me, between my life and your life.”
“What?” Lily breathed.
“My son died before I could do anything about it, before I could save him. Your son won’t die. You’ll protect him, Lily.” She paused, squeezing Lily’s hands. “That’s why you keep fighting, Lily. I know you don’t want to be in this war. I know you wish you had never joined the Order of the Phoenix, I know you wish you had never let James join it. I know you would do anything to run away from it, I know that deep down a part of you wished you could have died when your car hit that apple tree, and you hate yourself for that. You hate yourself for being so hopeless. You hate yourself for not having a reason to fight.”
Lily had met this woman less than an hour ago, and already Bridget had her in tears. It didn’t matter how she knew things Lily hadn’t told her, things Lily hadn’t told anyone, things she hadn’t even admitted to herself. All that mattered was how she gripped Lily’s hands and pulled the terrible truth from her as though she had known her for years. She was extracting the truth like poison from Lily, watching the walls Lily had so carefully put up come crumbling down.
“I’m giving you a reason to fight, Lily. Someday you’re going to have a son, and you're going to fight for him. You’re going to be a wonderful mother. There’s your reason. Fight Voldemort for your son, Lily. Don’t give up on your life for your son.”
Lily nodded her head, letting the words wash over her. When Bridget released her hands, however, reality came pouring back down over Lily. Unable to listen to another word the woman spoke Lily backed away from her. She didn’t need this right now. “You can’t possibly know any of these things!” Lily accused angrily, wiping madly at her wet eyes. “I don’t even know who you are ” I met you an hour ago! You could be a nut for all I know!”
“What does it matter?” Bridget insisted, her voice growing in urgency. “What does it matter if you’ve known me for an hour, a week, a year or ten years? What does it matter if I’m your best friend or worst enemy? What does it matter if I’m a woman or a cow? What does it matter if I’m crazy? What does it matter if I’m a complete fool or the wisest woman to grace this earth? What does it matter if I’m a strange old woman you ran into or a goddess of old? What does it matter as long as I’m right? What does it matter as long as I give you a reason to keep fighting?”
Lily opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. What does it matter? The words echoed in her head. Earlier that night, as her hands had fiddled with the keys to the car, as she’d stumbled into her seat and turned on the engine, those same words had been haunting her. What does it matter if I speed home? What does it matter if I never make it home? She’d been guilty at the very thought so instead, she’d remembered her mother, the very woman whose death had finally sent her over the edge of unbearable pain. She remembered how her mother just liked to drive, just to feel better. So Lily had driven.
She’d ended up here.
Bridget reached for Lily and took her hands again, capturing her eyes once more. “Go home to your husband, Lily. He’s worried about you; he doesn’t know where you are. Go home and keep fighting, keep fighting for Harry.”
“Who’s Harry?” Lily whispered. Bridget only walked to the fireplace, Lily trailing behind. Lily wanted to say something, she simply didn’t know what. Her day had been horrible, really, her month had been horrible. Her year had been horrible. It had never been so odd however. Never in her entire life had she been so hot and cold, so angry and so comforted, so confused and so understood in one single hour.
She simply stood there in silence, watching Bridget reach into her pocket, pull out a small leather bag and take a handful of Floo powder from it. She threw it into the fire and Lily watched the flames grow tall and green.
“Go home, James is waiting for you,” Bridget dictated. “I’ll find you when Harry comes, just as I did tonight.” Gently Bridget pushed Lily to the fire and Lily numbly stepped into it, barely speaking out her address. The last thing she saw was Bridget smiling softly at her, a satisfied expression gracing her face.
Lily swirled around in the fire place, her eyes squeezed shut and her elbows tucked. A moment later she found herself falling into the arms of her worried husband, her familiar kitchen coming into view. “Where have you been? I’ve been so worried!” Lily didn’t answer him. She merely buried her face in his shirt, taking in his familiar scent. Next thing she knew he was lifting her up into his arms and carrying her like a small child into the living room. He set her down on the couch. “You’re bleeding,” he noticed, wiping the dried blood off her face with his hand.
She winced slightly at the touch to her cut and he immediately asked again, “What happened? You told me to make sure I was home tonight because your parents were coming for dinner but when I got here no one was here and I’ve been so worried and””
“My parents died in a car crash on their way here,” Lily told him softly. For a moment he stared at her in shock. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her into his lip, once again cradling her like a little girl and not saying a single word. His father had died of Dragon Pox only a few months ago, and Lily had comforted him then just as he comforted her now.
In between her tears she told him how Petunia had called her, how she had gone to her and received the news. “It’s going to be okay,” he murmured into her hair, rubbing her back.
“I know,” she whispered. “I know.” She hadn’t told him of her reckless driving and the crash she shouldn’t have survived, or of the bees and meeting Bridget. She didn’t know how. She could hardly explain it to herself. Instead, all she said was, “I love you.” He murmured the words back to her, still hugging her close and rubbing her back.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered after a few minutes.
“For what?” she asked, looking up to see tears glistening on his face.
He tightened his grip on her. “For . . . being away so often. I just, I miss you,” he kissed the crown of her head. “Remus and I finally managed to find Sirius and we brought him home. He’s staying with Remus tonight.”
“Good,” Lily sniffed.
“I’ll be home more often now, I promise. I’ve been so worried about Sirius and with Marlene and my father both . . . well, I just, I love you, Lily. This war, everything that’s been happening ” I just thought if I was always fighting I could just ” I don’t know, I don’t know ” I love you, Lils.” Lily nodded, smiling up at him happily. She and James had hardly talked in months and finally, the same night the earth turns upside down on her, the James she loves finally comes home.
“I’ve missed you too. You better be home more often,” she warned, grinning teasingly at him the way she did back when they were at school, back when they were first married, back before the war and all the horrors that came with it took over their lives.
“Yes ma’am, I wouldn’t want to get in trouble.”
“Hey ” you mess with the bull!” She joked, something Marlene used to always say. James laughed, kissing her soundly for the first time in a long time. Ten minutes later James stomach ended any further talk as it rumbled disagreeably. “I’ll go wash up and then make us a late dinner,” Lily suggested as she sadly left his warm embrace.
“How about you go wash up then sit down at the table while I make us dinner,” he stood up, kissing her head again.
“You can’t cook.”
“I can now. I cook pasta, and pasta, and sometimes, when I’m in a really good mood ” pasta.” Lily laughed.
“Mmm, pasta sounds good,” she told him before kissing him quickly, pulling away and running off giggling like a fifteen-year-old before he could trap her again and kiss her senseless. Once in the loo however, she was faced by the mirror. She looked the same as always, of course, but somehow looking at her tear-stained yet smiling face with a bloody cut across her forehead brought reality back down.
Today was, without a doubt, the craziest of her life. One minute she had been slamming her car into a tree, the next she was carelessly flirting with her husband. How did that work? Thinking that, she splashed water on her face before drying it with the bright yellow towels James had insisted on buying. As soon as she was done however, she was once again facing herself in the mirror. What does it matter? The question popped into her head at random
She smiled as she thought it. “What does it matter if today was the craziest day of my life?” she asked her reflection. As long as at the end of the day, she fell asleep safely in her bed, curled up next to James ” what does it matter? Her attention was drawn to the cut then, and she turned to the side cabinet, taking out a basket and rooting through it for a bandage. Her hand landed on the box she had hidden underneath everything a week ago.
Slowly, after checking that the door was locked, she pulled out the Muggle pregnancy test she had bought when she was late. She hadn’t used it yet, she’d been afraid to. She’d decided she couldn’t be a mother. Everyone was dying, things with James were terrible, and she didn’t want to be in the war anymore yet she was stuck right in the middle. She didn’t have anything left to fight for. Now she had James though, and if Bridget was right then maybe. . . .
“JAMES!” she yelled ten minutes later, throwing open the door and running down the stairs to the kitchen. He turned to her with alarm, sporting a pink apron and holding a wooden spoon with half-cooked pasta dripping off it.
“What’s that matter? What happened?” he demanded.
“James, I’m pregnant.” She couldn’t keep the excitement from her voice. When she’d first been late, the idea of being pregnant had terrified her. It still terrified her. She didn’t’ understand what had changed. Why was she excited now? Did that mean she believed Bridget when the crazy woman told her she would have a baby, she would be a wonderful mother and she would succeed in protecting the baby? Did believing that allow her to be excited at the sight of two pink lines? What does it matter?
James was staring at her as though he was going to faint. His shock didn’t seem to faze him for long however, as a moment later he ran to her, lifted her off the ground and spun her around. “Ha-ha!” he shouted, kissing her passionately before lowering his face to her stomach and telling the baby how much he loved it while she laughed uncontrollably.
Thirty minutes later the pasta had been forgotten and they were once again nestled comfortably on the couch, Lily in his lap while he rubbed her flat stomach almost protectively. “Do you have any idea for names?” James asked her.
Lily frowned. “Harry,” she whispered, remembering Bridget.
“Harry?” James echoed in surprise. “That was my grandfather’s name! I love it,” he told her, kissing her head. “Harry Potter.” He paused, a frown forming on his face to quickly be replaced by a smile. “Harry James Potter, ha-HA!” Lily smiled a little to herself, shaking her head in disbelief. Had Bridget known? Did it matter? Whatever Bridget had known, she had certainly pulled Lily away from the edge of despair.
Her mind was still swirling with the events of the night, with the news of the baby, with James coming home, and with everything that had happened with Bridget and she was caught off guard when he spoke again. “I got you something when I was in Ireland for the Order,” he told her. “I completely forgot with your news.” He took a moment to gaze happily at her stomach before waving his wand, summoning his bags to him, and managing to extract a badly wrapped present from them, all the while still holding his wife.
“Why?” she asked with a puzzled smile, “It’s not my birthday or anything.”
“Can’t I just treat the people I love? After all,” he grinned happily again, “I am going to be a father and good fathers shower their children in love, affection and toys.” Lily only laughed in response as she unwrapped the present. It was a leather-bound book titled “Myth and Legends of Ireland” with a picture of a god on the front.
“It seemed like something you would like,” he told her, his voice that hopeful tone he always got when he gave her something, desperately hoping she would like it. “I was even looking through it a little, and I found a goddess that reminds me of you.”
“Really?” she asked, flipping through the pages and already looking forward to reading it. James needn’t worry she wouldn’t like a present he got her, she always did.
“Uh-huh, she loves poetry and everything . . . the page number is . . . nineteen. Look on nineteen.” As told Lily turned to page nineteen and began to read aloud what she saw.
“‘Brigid: Goddess of Fire. Brigid, the Irish goddess of fire, the forge, the hearth, poetry, healing, childbirth and unity, is celebrated in many European countries. She is known by many names. . . .’” Lily’s voice trailed off as she read about the goddess. She and her husband had come from warring tribes and only when her son died did peace come. She was represented by the colors red, black, yellow and white. She owned an apple orchard and bees with magical nectar and her presence was often announced by fire in some form.
The events of the night flashed through Lily’s mind and her eyes went wide. After a moment she looked up at James. “What?” he asked while grinning in confusion at her reaction.
“You’re right James,” she said with a smile. “This goddess is like me. Imagine that.”
fin
A/N: The goddess of the story is the old Celtic goddess Brigid, for more information on her: http://www.goddessgift.com/goddess-myths/celtic-goddess-Brigid.htm
For those of you waiting for a new chapter from one of my regular fics, it shouldn't be too long. Please review!
What Does It Matter? by MagEd
Chapter Notes: The brainchild of a snow day and an interest in mythology. J.K. Rowling is the amazing and real author of the whole Harry Potter world, no argument here.