III
Now I could tell you that we fell for each other like something out of a fairy tale that night, but it would be a lie.
We didn't even kiss. After all it would be totally ridiculous to just take drugs, drink and fuck. That comes later, because quite honestly, I still had no desire to know her afterwards.
We did do a lot of that eventually though. Drink, drugs, fucking.
I think about that a lot actually now as I watch her sit alone in her room, staring beyond the window and rubbing her tummy. She's not going to be able to live the kind of lifestyle that we did ever again. So maybe being dead is a blessing because I've every faith that she would be chasing me around with a shoe trying to beat the living daylights out of me for knocking her up.
It was a complete accident you see, yeah, the condom broke. And we were out of our minds on narcotics so it didn't seem like a big deal at the time, we simply shrugged it off and hoped for the best. The best just laughed in our faces and served us a nice, warm dish of karma.
And if I'm being truthful, I'm surprised more than anything that down there even worked well enough to create another human considering the amount of E we ate some nights.
I'll save that for another time though because I want to explain to you the predicament we've found ourselves in.
As I said, most of her time now is spent disassociating or maladaptive daydreaming by herself. Y/n is held up in her old dorms with a few other waifs and strays, but everyone gives each other more than enough personal space. It's needed so soon after something so big.
People do try to come by and check on her, to make sure she's eating, getting enough rest as if she does anything but, water, or just to provide some basic human interaction.
McGonagall, Pomfrey and Trelawney have been fretting something silly about her which is understandable. Maybe it's motherly matriarchal instincts kicking in since y/n lost pretty much everyone she loved in the war.
So now all she had was her old Professors and what few friends that lived as family; we were both only children. My parents had sent flowers today, to y/n. I know because I was sat beside her even if she didn't feel it, when the gentle knock came at her door.
"Y/n?" Madame Pomfrey called sweetly and quietly, cracking the door. "Sweetheart, can I come in?"
Y/n's tired, dark circled and bloodshot eyes refocused in and out as she wiped away the moisture from her lash line and straightened up. "Yeah, come in I'm okay."
She wasn't okay, not even slightly. She was completely shattered and broken.
Pomfrey slid in and closed the door behind her holding something behind her back, before striding up next to y/n in her armchair in front of the window. "I just wanted to come and take measurements for baby now that you're starting to show," she whispered being sure to keep a calm tone whilst pulling out some measuring tape. "And these have come for you this morning but I wasn't sure that you'd want them."
It was a small bouquet of black roses, enchanted with golden rimmed petals. Hard to come by, but not for my parents who can afford anything they desire. She shuffled them on to the desk beside her to get a better look, taking the stalks between her fingers to fuss them before pulling back and blankly stating. "He wouldn't send me flowers, wasn't his style.."
It wasn't, I never did do romantic gestures and prissy shows of affection generally. I bedded girls and then never spoke to them again. Y/n wasn't supposed to be any different, but even though she was.. I didn't get the chance to consider what nice things I might do for her. We simply didn't get long enough.
"Can I take some measurements of bump y/n?" Pomfrey asked with y/n silently nodding. She rose up slowly, curling up the hems of the jumper to expose her growing belly. The skin had turned smooth and shiny, and little silver lines were starting to grow above her hips.
"Not long now and we can have Trelawney take a good look at you and maybe tell you if you're having a boy or a girl. Are you excited?"
"Not really," said y/n, as the measuring tape was wrapped around her bump. "It's gonna fucking look like him either way."
I should probably mention that she's closed herself off entirely to the experience of carrying a child and becoming a mother. She hates it, and when the child is born.. has every intention of handing it over to my parents. Having to do it by yourself after the other person who was supposed to help dies just isn't that appealing. And understandable.
Also I don't know if she's trying to convince everyone else or just herself that she doesn't love the little life inside of her, because sometimes at night she softly sings to it when she thinks nobody is around. She just isn't aware that I'm right there, listening to her as she does.
Madame Pomfrey had just about finished taking her measurements from a reluctant y/n when she started to heave to be sick. Quickly Pomfrey guided her away toward the door but barely made it when y/n swiped to pick up a random shoebox and began coughing in to it.
I'd never wished that I could do something to help and comfort someone more than I did then. It was torture being here but unable to even rub her back. Nothing actually came out though just painful wretches.
"This is why I don't like getting up and moving around. It just makes me feel like shit, whoever called it morning sickness is a fucking liar, because it plagues me every minute of the day."
"Come on sit back down if it's making you queasy. Maybe I can see if we have a sort of tonic or something that's safe enough for you to have whilst you're still in second trimester."
Y/n quietly nodded before turning her gaze to back out of the window. Madame Pomfrey finally showed some concern in her face when she thought y/n wasn't looking, it's so blaringly obvious to see that despite being pregnant she just kept losing weight and getting frailer.
"You don't have to sit here constantly and stare out and down in to the courtyard, it's a dreadful sight until everything gets fixed. You'll be much comfier if you just-"
"Please don't," y/n whispered sternly. "I've heard it a million and one times so you're just wasting your breath. No offense."
"But that's you know.."
"Yeah I do. I know that's exactly where it happened. Right in that spot, right there next to the fallen brick. That's where the father of my child died right in front of my eyes and for everyone else to see after nobody tried to fucking help him."
"Well he was.."
"Yeah! He was. Was. He was alive, and he was a death eater. He also changed his mind, and won you the fucking war at the cost of his own life so don't forget it either."
If she could see ghosts, she'd of seen me crashing around the room and shoving my middle finger in to Pomfrey's face shouting. "Yeah, so fuck you!"
But she can't, what a fucking waste. I'm still waiting for the day I'm able to start moving things and making noises, I am going to be an absolute menace.
"I'm sorry I didn't mean to upset you, it wasn't my intention," sighed Pomfrey. "No, I know. I'm sorry too my hormones are just everywhere and I'm snappy. It wasn't your fault."
It kind of was, and if I was alive I would of frog marched her out of there and away from my y/n; the last thing she needs is unnecessary stress. Even if she wasn't carrying a child, she's still grieving and trying to recover from the things she's had to witness.
"Will you try some food and water? You've not had anything yet today."
"I'm not hungry.." I hear those words more often than I care to these days, it's painful every time. "No, well you might not be y/n.. but somebody else is going to be."
Pomfrey's words had y/n glance down at the mound that spilled on to her lap when she curled up in her chair. And she thought about it for longer than is natural, considering if she even cared or not. "Yeah, okay. Nothing heavy though. I won't be able to keep it down."
"I'll make something sugary and light, maybe see about getting some of that tonic in to you as well. Does that sound good? I'll get someone to fetch it so you can take your time and try to enjoy it."
"Yeah, that'd be nice. Thank you Madame," y/n glanced over to show a weak smile grace her pale lips. But it was a thin sort of smile, one that never quite reaches the eyes. "Okay lovey, if you need anything else. Anything. Just come and ask okay? I'll make it happen."
I'm stuck when it comes to Poppy Pomfrey. Everything she does for y/n is always so pure and for her wellbeing. I think I'm just jealous that she gets to provide the things for y/n that I should be providing. I wouldn't know where to start, but I'd sure as hell fucking try my best.
As soon as she was alone again her stare turned vacant and devoid of any emotion. That was until her bottom lip started quivering no matter how hard she tried to fight it. Then the sobs again, long and shallow sobs, the type that make you feel like you have to fight for breath because your chest is so heavy. She spoke down to her stomach, voice cracking.
"I don't think I can do this, I don't know what I'm supposed to do. What do you need? Do you feel anything? Do you even want to be born? Are you going to hate me when you grow up and learn how you even exist? --- I don't even know if I can love you."
I laid my hand upon her shoulder and raked my fingers through her hair, but she didn't feel it. She never does. I've sat beside her bed at night and held her hand through every night terror and cold sweat, yet she's never felt more alone.
Y/n isn't weak though, not even slightly. I'd not want to have to face her in a fist fight or battle of wits. She could outsmart just about anyone who tried to get sarcastic. The best memories I have of her are her essentially putting me back in my place.
We didn't interact with each other for almost a week after our bizarre little encounter in her freaky, psychedelic playland. But when we did, wow, it was interesting to say the least.
Because for the longest time, neither of us were willing to admit that we just attracted each other like magnets. And the short lived rivalry that was born from that was sensational.