disclaimer: Harry and Ginny, and the HP universe belong to JKR. Elizabeth belongs to me. The plot line and ideas from Suzanne's Diary for Nicholas are James Patterson's. Believe me, they are not mine.
author's notes: ::stands up:: Hello, my name is Bekken, and I can't think for myself. No, really, I got the whole idea for this from Suzanne's Diary for Nicholas by James Patterson. If you know the plot line, good for you. It's a great book. But I tried to HP-ize it, and make it a little different. I hope you like it! R&R
Dearest Elizabeth Kyle,
Most people must think I'm crazy, writing a letter to my unborn child. But I can't help it. I've never had a baby before – at least, I've never carried a child long term.
This is your mum, Elizabeth. This is your mother writing to you while you are still in the womb. I promise to write to you as faithfully as I possibly can, Liz, because I would have loved for my parents to do something like this for me.
I'm promising myself that on your eighteenth birthday, I'm going to give you a big stack of letters that I've written you by then. And this is the very first.
This is for your eyes, only, Liz. This is our story.
I don't know where to begin, but I think I'll begin with before the beginning, before you were even thought of, dear heart.
I think I have to begin, first of all, with Hogwarts.
By the time you read this, you'll know what Hogwarts is, of course. You'll have finished, or be finishing, your seventh year.
I don't know what house you'll be in – but I'm guessing Gryffindor. After all, you're half Weasley.
I was in Gryffindor. In fact, all the Weasleys were. I was lucky enough to have family members there when I went. I think, my first year, your Uncles Percy, Fred, George, and Ron were at Hogwarts. Yes, that's right. And Professor Albus Dumbledore was Headmaster.
By now, of course, you'll have found out all about the Chamber of Secrets. And if you haven't, then ask me, because that's not something I want to think about right now.
I want to think about your daddy.
I want to think about Harry.
I'd been told stories about him all my life, of course – every wizarding child had. I had bedtime stories about when he defeated Voldemort; my lampshade had a picture of him on it.
I first saw him the year before my first year. We were bringing Ron to the station. I didn't know who he was before Ron told me – all I knew was that the moment I laid eyes on him, I got a positively huge hormone rush.
My first year, I embarrassed myself horribly with my case of puppy love. I think (scratch that, I know) your daddy was quite fed up with me. In fact, my crush lasted until about the beginning of fourth year.
I saw Harry eyeing a certain raven-haired fifth year – Cho Chang. And suddenly, all my hopes for him and I together were quashed down into the dirt. I promised myself that this was the end.
No more Harry Potter for me.
And that's enough, Lizzie, for tonight. I can feel you kicking, and you don't know how happy that makes me.
Today is your daddy's and my anniversary, Liz. You wouldn't believe it, but for our first wedding anniversary, we didn't have a party, or take calls, or see people, or anything.
This morning we went out onto the porch, and we watched the sunrise together. I love our house – you will, too, once you're old enough to appreciate it. We're all alone in the middle of nowhere, facing a clear blue lake.
Daddy's thinking about fencing off our dock until you're old enough to learn how to swim, little one.
We watched the sunrise, holding hands. Then we went back inside, and your daddy made breakfast. He made eggs benedict and fresh squeezed orange juice.
Baby, you'd never believe it, but your daddy is a great cook, no matter how much he complains about it.
We ate together on the couch (something that your grandmother would have my head for). Then we turned on the WWN, and your daddy danced with me, Lizzie. Me. Eight months pregnant, stomach out to here, and he danced with me like I was still a teenager.
We curled up on our bed together, and we talked. He rubbed my stomach – the tummy with you inside, dear heart. He talked to you, and he looked ecstatic when you kicked.
He held me in his arms, and loved me.
Before we went up to bed, he gave me a present. And he bought you a present, too! He gave me a gorgeous diamond necklace – I thought I'd never own anything so fancy. And he bought a bracelet with your name engraved on it: Elizabeth Kyle Potter. We put it away for later.
Now he's asleep on our bed, and I'm staying up to write this to you, so you'll know that your daddy is the most romantic man on the earth.
In my sixth year at Hogwarts, I fell in "love".
Or, what teenagers call love, anyway.
It was Dean Thomas, a boy in your daddy's year. He was sweet – oh he was very, very sweet to me. We were engulfed in teenage passion.
No, darling, I didn't lose my virginity to him that first year we dated.
Dean and I even made plans to be married after Hogwarts. He left school, and in my seventh year I pined for him terribly.
He wrote me almost daily. I missed him all the time, and my work slipped for it. After I left school, we got a flat together in London.
We spent so much time together, and it was wonderful. I really felt like I had found "the one". I was waiting for him to propose to me.
Then one day, out of the blue, he left me. He said that I "wasn't giving him what he needed". He broke my heart, Lizzie. Broke it into fifteen million tiny pieces, and I was left trying to mend it.
My brothers were rightfully angry, but I stopped them from doing anything to Dean. As much as I hated to admit it to myself, I still loved him.
I grew despondent. I wrote him letters, begging him to come back to me, but he refused. He told me to get on with my life.
I threw myself into my job. I spent all waking hours at the office. My health began to fail, and I didn't care about anything anymore. What was the point, without Dean?
Your Uncle Bill finally convinced me to take a vacation. He sent me off to a small island. I don't know if he knew that island was where your daddy was stationed in the Auror Army, and he still won't tell me if he did.
I planned to take a nice, long, three month rest, and clear my head. For the first time, I saw how ridiculous I had been. I missed Dean, yes. But I had a life outside of Dean that I threw down the toilet.
I rented a small cabin near the ocean. I spent my days lazing around, reading, or just sleeping. I sketched; I wrote poetry. I did anything I could to relax myself.
One day, I decided to go to a small, out of the way club that I passed every time I did grocery shopping.
The club was called Black Magic, and I decided to make myself look nice.
I entered the club feeling nervous. I didn't know anyone on the island – all I knew was that it was a large army base.
In fact, there were soldiers all over, dressed in what one might call "casual uniform", with robes let out, and ties loosened.
I ordered a butterbeer, and a man offered to pay for it. I shook my head.
"No thanks," I said.
"Come on," he pleaded. "For old times' sake."
Who was this man? Did I know him? Looking up into his face, I saw the one thing I could never forget.
Emerald green eyes.
It was your daddy. It was Harry.
When I saw your daddy in that bar, I was shocked. I couldn't believe it. There I was, in the middle of nowhere, and Harry Potter was there.
"Ginny," he said, cheerfully. "How have you been?"
"Alright," I replied, finding my voice.
We sat down, and talked for a little while, catching up. I knew he was still in close contact with your Uncle Ron, but I had hardly seen him since he left Hogwarts.
Suddenly, he stood up.
"Care to dance?" he asked, holding out his hand.
Lizzie, your father is so charming that I couldn't resist.
That night, we danced. We danced like there was no tomorrow.
And I think that that was the night that I really fell in love with your father.
You daddy was able to take my broken, tattered heart, and fix it. He made it whole and beautiful again.
That's one of your daddy's finest traits, Lizzie.
Elizabeth, my darling child,
I thought I lost you, Lizzie. I thought that you were going to die.
I woke up yesterday morning with a funny pain. I didn't mention it to your Daddy, because he's been having a tough time at work lately. But, at lunch time, I lost my grip, and fell down the stairs. It was unbelievable, unreal pain.
We're very lucky that your Uncle Ron decided to pay a visit. He rushed me to St. Mungo's, and let Harry know.
They said you were hurt, Lizzie. They said your heart wasn't beating fast enough.
I thought you were going to die.
Your daddy was next to me, holding my hand. They said there wasn't much hope. They wanted to take you out, but I wanted to have you naturally, Lizzie.
So we waited.
And, Lizzie, you're a fighter. That's what the nurse called you, that's what the doctor called you, and that's what your daddy called you. Because you are alright now. And I'm at home.
Baby – don't ever scare me like that again!
Happy birthday Elizabeth Kyle Potter. Today, you were born, and it is probably the happiest day of my life.
You are so beautiful, honey. You keep on smiling – the doctors say it's gas, but I know better. You're giving a trademark Weasley grin to the world.
You have light red hair, and you have Harry's green eyes. The Potter eyes, I call them. I think you're winking at me right now.
You're six pounds, fourteen ounces, twenty three inches long. You seem so tiny to me.
Your little fingers are about half the size of a newborn puppy's!
Baby, you were born today. Your daddy kissed me smack on the lips in front of everyone, and picked you up. "Liz," he said to you. "Welcome to the world."
I love your daddy. And I'm going to have to steal his phrase now.
Lizzie, my sweet, sweet baby – welcome to the world.
I came home from the hospital today. You'll never guess what your silly daddy did. He made a big banner, and put it outside our house. It says, "Welcome Home, Ginny and Liz."
He calls you Sport. "Hey, Sport," he'll say to you, wiggling your little toes around. I think it's so cute.
Your uncles all came round to see us in the hospital. Your Uncle Fred – you'll never guess what he did! He picked you up and swung you around, and when I protested that it was bad for you, he said, "She's a Weasley – she can survive anything."
Your Uncle Bill seems to adore you. He kept wanting to hold you, and play with you.
I think, Lizzie, that with all of these uncles, you are going to be terribly spoiled.
Your grandmother and grandfather come tomorrow. They want to see you, and help me, I suppose. Your grandfather has to go back to work in a few days, but Grandma is spending a whole month!
I'm watching you sleep in your crib as I write this, baby. Your eyes are closed, and you're curled up into a little tiny ball.
You're beautiful. Don't ever let anyone tell you differently.
Your grandparents are spoiling you. They give you attention twenty four seven, and they've brought you so many little trinkets. You gurgle, and grin when they come around.
You're only about six days old, and already, I can tell you're a Weasley. You've even got the hair.
Your daddy loves you to pieces. He loves holding you, feeding you, and anything he can do. He has to go back to work tomorrow – though he told me he doesn't want to.
It was so funny. He said he wanted to be one of those Mr. Mum types, that takes care of the kids. Can't you just imagine your Daddy in a pink apron, cleaning the kitchen floor and whistling?
You wouldn't believe it, but you are an angel about sleeping through the night. I think you already understand that Mummy loves her sleep more than anything. (Except you and Daddy, of course.)
I love you, sweetheart,
When I was dating your father, I was a bit scared of him finding out exactly why I was taking a long vacation on that island. I didn't want him to think I was so weak I couldn't even handle a breakup.
And, I suppose, I was a bit embarrassed about how I had acted myself.
But your father was just…wonderful, Liz. He made me feel so good. Slowly but surely…I fell in love with him.
One night, he began to talk to me. He told me about his fears about joining the army, but how it had rewarded him, his complete and total acceptance of his breakup with Parvati, how he knew it wasn't going to work.
And I felt like I had to tell him. I didn't know why, I just knew we could never really be together if I wasn't completely honest.
"Harry," I began, slowly. "Before I came here, something happened…"
"Dean left you, and you went to pieces," Harry said smartly.
I was astounded. "How long have you known?" I asked.
"Since before you got here. Ron told me."
"Why didn't you mention it?"
"I figured you would tell me on your own time."
I love your daddy, Elizabeth.
All the love in the universe,
Your daddy has gone crazy, I think.
He went out and bought a cake, and we are having a celebration tonight. For what? For being alive, he says.
He's insane. And I love it.
I love you, too, sweetheart. You sleep twenty out of twenty four hours a day – but the doctors say that's normal. You do smile – no matter what those silly doctors think. You grin every time you see me or your daddy.
Your grandma is doing more than I ever expected her to. She cooks, she cleans, and the only thing she leaves me to do is laze around. She loves you to bits, and plays with you all the time.
You have a favorite toy, darling. It's a music box. When we wind it for you, it plays a loud, rambunctious song, and you giggle. At the end of the song, it turns into a stuffed animal with a (very) loud POP!
Your uncles Fred and George bought it for you. Surprise, surprise. I think you've inherited their love for noise.
Your eyes light up whenever you see that thing, but the rest of the house finds it quite a nuisance. Sometimes, however, it's the only way to get you to calm down.
You can certainly cry, Lizzie. You can scream. You yell until you get what you want.
I told your grandmother that she shouldn't spoil you.
But I love even that about you, Liz. I love you right down to your little, itty-bitty toes.
It's Mummy's birthday today. You'll never believe what Daddy did!
He planned an absolutely huge surprise luncheon for me. I slept in, and woke up a ragged mess. I went downstairs to get some breakfast and what do I find but over forty people staring at me in my wrinkled, messy pajamas with my hair flying all round my face?
I was fit to kill him.
Thankfully, Aunt Hermione pulled out her wand, and in seconds I was looking fabulous. It did give your uncles a laugh though.
"Brings back memories," George said, wiping a fake tear away. "I remember when she used to come down to the breakfast table looking like that."
I smacked him. Your Uncle George is so silly.
There were so many people there, and I have never felt so loved. You even gave me a present, baby – according to Daddy, you helped choose the necklace he gave me. (He also said you wrote the inscription, but I'm not that gullible.)
I love the necklace, Lizzie, and the inscription inside is even better:
Elizabeth, Ginny, and Harry – Forever One
I love your daddy.
When we had finished eating, Aunt Hermione took you to her house. Your daddy carried me up to our room, where we spent the rest of my birthday afternoon, and, I must admit, most of my birthday evening.
I remember the day your Daddy proposed to me.
It was months after we'd met at the club. My vacation was supposed to be over – but I kept postponing going home to stay with your daddy. Finally, one day, he invited me over to his house.
I rang the bell, but no one answered. The door was opened, and I went in. The house seemed empty, and I saw a bouquet of flowers on the table. There were lots of yellow daffodils, and a single red rose in the middle. There was a card sticking out, and it had my name on it. So I opened it.
To a rose among daffodils,
Will you marry me?
My mouth must have dropped open, Lizzie. I whirled around, and there was Harry, standing behind me, looking hopeful.
I couldn't seem to get my vocal cords to work. Finally, I let out a shaky, "Yes."
Harry whooped, and picked me up. He whirled me around, and set me down gently on the couch. He pulled out a ring from his pocket, and reverently slid it over my finger.
"You don't know how long I've wanted to do that, Ms. Weasley," he said, and he kissed me.
I love your daddy, Lizzie. I hope you meet someone like him.
I hope your first Christmas has been as happy for you as it was for me. You've been literally showered with presents – I'm surprised we can even find your nursery under all the stuffed animals.
Your daddy gave you a little shirt that says, "What did I do?" Because your daddy picked it out, it's far too big. But that's all right. You'll grow into it.
I love the fact that your daddy is so spontaneous.
He got me red nail polish, and painted my toenails. My toenails, Liz, can you believe it? He did them all perfectly. I look down and grin at my toes, because they prove how much your daddy loves me.
This morning, Harry picked you up, planted a kiss on your cheek, and said, "Merry Christmas, Sport."
This morning, Harry picked me up, planted a kiss on my cheek, and said, "Merry Christmas, Gin."
Don't you love him?
We ran downstairs to open presents, me holding you in my arms. We opened yours first. (All 29 of them, lucky girl). You clapped your hands when you saw the picture of your uncles and your mummy when we were children. Were you laughing at me, my impish little child?
Then, I gave Harry his presents. I'd got him some things for work, and some general other things. And I gave him a sweater I'd knitted myself.
Your daddy is so funny. He pulled it out of the box, groaned, and said, "Another Weasley sweater. How do you women do it?" Then he kissed me.
He showered me with presents, and not just the nail polish. He bought me everything I could possibly want, and probably more.
You should see what your daddy bought you, little one. It's a playhouse – four bedrooms, three bathrooms. We've put it in your room. It looks like a tiny Muggle one, but it really is enormous. And he's had it professionally decorated, and everything!
I hope you had a good Christmas, darling.
Happy New Year, Lizzie!
Your daddy and I were up until three in the morning, but you fell asleep around eight. That's all right. We each kissed one of your cheeks at the stroke of midnight. You almost woke up and started crying…but you didn't.
It's New Year's. My resolution this year, Lizzie, is to be the best mummy I can possibly be for you.
Isn't it funny to think that by this time next year, you'll be over a year old, crawling and walking?
You're such a little cutie pie, have I told you that, recently?
Today, Daddy stayed home from work, and we went out to the dock. I think you were ready to go swimming, and you kept trying to escape your daddy's arms.
Wait a few more years, little one.
The water is gorgeous – freezing, but gorgeous. I don't think you'd want to swim, even if you could.
There are tiny little waves that lap at the dock, and the sand. You sat on the sand, slapping it, and giggling happily. We bundled you up in a winter coat, and a hat that covers your ears, but I'm still worried you might have caught a chill.
The other day, I happened to show you a picture of your daddy as a little boy. You know what you did, you little imp? You made a face!
Daddy wasn't that ugly!
You're just like me when I saw pictures of my parents when they were young – they were ugly, though, and Daddy wasn't!
Anyway, you are such a joy.
I treasure every moment with you, every smile, every kiss (or, as you put it, "MMMM-AAH!"), every tear, every cry.
You are growing up right in front of me, and it's wonderful to see. You love to sing – you clap your hands along with the music on the WWN, and you love it when Daddy or I sing lullabies to you.
You have a little toy truck that I gave you, and you never let it out of your sight. I suppose it's your security truck. I know you must be smiling right now.
You don't like dolls – don't worry, neither did I. You'd always rather be playing with your trucks, or throwing food at Daddy and I.
You'll never believe what Daddy did. He installed a baby seat onto the back of his broom, so now you ride it with him. I make you wear a helmet, and I complain all the time to him – it isn't safe! But you seem to have the time of your life, up flying with your daddy.
Daddy and I took you to a Quidditch game yesterday. We bought you a little Chudley Cannons hat, and we watched Uncle Ron play. He played great, just for you, Lizzie.
You spent last Saturday with your cousins, Molly and Jonathon. While you kids played, your Aunt Hermione and I had a great time catching up.
You're so curious, Lizzie – your eyes always seem to be questioning me. "What's that?" "Why?" "How come?" "Where did it go?" I answer you. It's so silly, but I'll explain everything I do. And you nod like you understand.
Daddy loves to play "peek-a-boo" with you. You're delighted when he pops out from behind your crib with a "Peek-a-boo! I see you!"
I love you.
Every day, I wake up and I feel so…complete.
Every morning, Harry is lying next to me, and I kiss his cheek, and I whisper to him, "Get up – we have a baby girl." And we wake up, and watch you sleep for a little while. Don't ever miss watching your child sleep.
Then your daddy goes off to work, and I set about doing little things in the house, and talking to you.
I love you, Lizzie. I love the fact that I have you.
When we were married, your daddy and I made a promise to each other. We promised that we would love each other, in sickness and in health.
I'm sick, Lizzie.
I have cancer.
They say they think they can cure it – but they are not sure. They're going to try some treatments.
I'm scared to die. I hope I don't. You don't know now, but you will one day, Lizzie – cancer kills. I don't want to die.
I don't want to leave you and Daddy. I don't want you to be mummy-less, your daddy to be wife-less.
I'm scared, darling. I'm scared to go.
But, if it ever came to that (and I pray to God it will not), I hope you can trust that your daddy knows what he's doing. If it comes down to finding another mummy for you, Lizzie – I trust him, and you should too.
Lizzie, I love you.
Elizabeth, my sweet, sweet child,
Every time I set down to write to you, I wonder if it might be the last time. Cancer progresses much faster in witches than it does in Muggles.
I'm scared, Lizzie. I don't want to go. I don't want to leave your daddy and you.
Lizzie, if you remember nothing else in your lifetime, remember this – you are my child, and I love you, whether I am alive, or gone.
I can't bear the thought of you growing up without me. It haunts me every day as I change you, as I bathe you, as I feed you. I can't bear the thought of you having your first bra, your first kiss, your first boyfriend, without your mum to share it with.
I love you, Lizzie. I love you so, so much. I love you to the ends of the earth and back. Always remember, Lizzie – I love you to the moon and beyond.
Mummy has an appointment with the doctor tomorrow to see how treatment is progressing. I am not feeling any better, but the doctors say that is normal.
Your daddy is worried out of his mind. I am afraid that you, darling, are being forgotten, and not given nearly as much attention as you are used to. So I made a point today to play with you, to sit with you, and now, to write to you.
Daddy never lets me do anything for myself. When he is home, he confines me to my bed, and does everything needed. Don't tell him, sweetheart, but I am desperate for a little fresh air.
Today, I played the WWN to you. And you started to dance! No one else believes me, but you did, Lizzie! I swear!
The doctors say the treatments are working. They say that we're not out of the woods yet – but we're going in the right direction!
Your daddy was so happy when he found out that he picked me up and swung me around. He kissed me, and we told you the news together.
I know I'm not out of danger. And this has made me realize that each day counts. Each day matters and each day is worth something. Never forget that, Lizzie.
You can hate me if you want. I'm a terrible mother.
I could make excuses to you – I'm being treated, they said memory loss would be a problem, I'm forgetful…
But I'm not going to. This is my fault.
This morning, I turned on water in the sink for your bath, baby girl, and I put you in your little baby tub. Then I went off to check on the chicken in the stove while your bath water filled.
I completely forgot about you.
Oh, Lizzie, sweetheart, I'm so sorry,
When I remembered, I raced up the stairs to you. You were already submerged underwater. They said I got you out just in time.
Oh, Lizzie. Oh, Elizabeth. I don't know how you can forgive me. I'm a terrible mother. A mother should never forget her children, and look at what I've done. I don't mind if you hate me, sweetheart.
Oh, sweet darling, we've done it! The doctor's say I've beaten the cancer! I'm going to be alright! Oh, my baby!
I'm so glad I'm not a Muggle, and would have to wait years and years to cure this. I've never been so happy in my entire life.
I'm a fighter, just like you, Liz.
It is your Uncle Ron's birthday today. You giggled, and hugged him.
Everyone adores you, sweetheart.
Your daddy is taking time off work in two months, and he's going to take us somewhere special, he says! Isn't that lucky?
I love you. I'm watching you grow up, right before my eyes. It's so much fun, but it's also kind of scary, and it makes me sad. Sometimes I wish I could keep you a little baby forever.
I wish you knew how beautiful you look while you are asleep in your crib. The light shines in through the picture window, and you roll over onto your tummy.
You stretch out – I can tell you're going to be tall, like Uncle Ron. Your daddy thinks you'll be tiny, like me, but I'm completely disagreeing with him on that one.
I love you until the end of time,
Your father and I got into a discussion one day before we married.
"Isn't it lucky," he said, "that you weren't so upset about Dean that you refused to come here?"
"Yes," I said, quietly. "It is."
We paused for a few minutes, just…enjoying each other, I guess you could say.
"Isn't it lucky," I said, after a spell, "that you were assigned to this posting?"
"Isn't it lucky," Daddy countered, "that you and I found each other?"
Isn't it lucky that I had you, Lizzie? Isn't it lucky?
You have a new cousin! Your Uncle Ron just had another child – a little girl named Ginny, can you believe it? I'm the girl's godmother.
She looks like you.
We went over to see Hermione today, and she looks radiant. Did you know that if I'm her godmother, that technically makes you her god-sister?
You have a sister, sweetheart.
Happy Mayday, sweetheart.
You know where we are? In Hawaii! Your daddy surprised us with a vacation! Isn't it lucky we have him?
I'm sitting here, in a room that faces the Pacific Ocean, and all I can think about is how lucky I am to have you, Lizzie.
I love you more than life itself,
Elizabeth, my beautiful baby,
You love it here. I can tell. We've dressed you in the cutest little bathing suit with a little skirt at the bottom. Daddy and I took you out swimming today (after putting a Floatation Charm on you) and you adored the water. You splashed around like you had been a fish your entire life.
It's so beautiful, Liz. I know you're not old enough to remember all of this, so I'm going to try and describe it to you.
Right now, your daddy and I are out watching the sunset, and you are in the hotel daycare center. The sunset is…oh, I can't even describe it, darling. It's a mix of reds and yellows and oranges. It's a sight for postcards.
We're looking out onto the water, which is a dark midnight blue, sending little ripples to wash over our bare feet. The water is pleasantly warm.
When I look out onto the horizon, I can see the sun meeting the water, surrounded by the pink and orange sky.
Your daddy has his arm around me, and he is sliding his hand over my arm, up and down.
The air smells like coconuts, and palm trees, and something…tropic, I suppose. A light sea breeze is drifting over us.
The sand feels warm, and squishy beneath my toes. Your daddy is clasping my hand in his, and we are just sitting. Not talking. Not doing anything, really.
I never thought that I could feel so fulfilled doing absolutely nothing at all.
Oh, Lizzie. Isn't it lucky we have your daddy?
We're back from Hawaii today, and it was one of the best vacations I've ever had. I want to get your daddy something, to thank him. His birthday's in a few months.
Do you have any ideas? I asked you this a few hours ago, and you shook your head and giggled.
My sweet child, you said your first words today! You said "Quidditch". Isn't that funny? You certainly are your father's child.
I said to you, "What do you want to do today, Lizzie?" just like I do any other day. Only this time, you answered.
I was so happy, I owled your daddy, and he came home right away. We played Quidditch for you, Lizzie, with you on the back of your daddy's broomstick.
Yes, you can chide Mummy for being so lazy about writing you. But you keep my busy, little one.
You're crawling, now, and into everything. I've had to put Locking Spells on all our lower cabinets. You go everywhere.
I thought of the perfect present for your daddy. Yesterday, we went to a small photography studio. I had my picture taken, with you in my arms. It looks beautiful.
I'm going to have it framed before your daddy's birthday. In fact, I went to framing place, and they said it would take a couple of days, since they are out of wood.
That's okay. I have plenty of time. And we're giving him something together, dear heart.
The framing place finally owled and they said they have the pictures ready. I'm going to go later on today and pick them up.
You know; it's funny, but all day today, I've had the strangest feeling. Like something is going to happen.
Oh well. Don't mind your silly mummy. I think I'm going to go out for a light lunch, and then I'm going to go get Daddy's present. He'll be so pleased.
You make my life better.
My dear, sweet Lizzie,
Hello, darling, it's Daddy. When was the last time I told you how much I love you? I think it was this morning? If I didn't, then I'll tell you now.
I love you to the moon. I love you to the stars. I love you until the end of time, and back. I love you so much, sweet one, and I hope you always will know that.
I feel like I have to write this. I have to say this to you. I should talk to you more. You deserve to know this.
Oh, darling, this is the hardest thing I've ever had to write. It's the reason I am writing to you today instead of Mummy.
Your mummy was going to the framing store to pick up some pictures. She was in such a good mood, I remember – she was grinning, and she looked beautiful. I remember her leaving. She turned around. She couldn't kiss me, her hands were full, but she winked at me, and said, "I love you, babe."
I should have stopped her. I should have told her I would pick up whatever was needed. I should have said goodbye.
But I just said, "You too," and blew her a kiss.
I keep seeing her in my mind, saying, "Love you, babe." I keep seeing her winking at me.
It tears me up inside to write this. Oh, Lizzie. How can I write this down?
Mummy was killed by remaining Death Eaters at Dee-Dee's, where she was eating lunch before going to the frame store.
God, Lizzie, it hurts me to write those words. Did she die instantly, with Avada Kedavra? I hope she did. I hope she didn't suffer.
It is so awful for me to have to tell you this.
She was so happy the last time I saw her, Lizzie. And now I know why. The flower place owled, about a delivery they were supposed to send. From her to me, ordered yesterday. Inside was a card:
That's all it said.
It hurts me to write this. It hurts me to tell you. But you have a right to know.
You know it wasn't Mummy's fault. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. She loved you. She wasn't going to take unnecessary chances and put herself in danger.
I loved Ginny so much. It's an amazing feeling to love someone so much, and know they love you as much, or even more, back.
I went to the cemetery, and chose a place for her to be buried. I'm so angry inside, Lizzie – at everything.
I want to do something. I want to break glass. I don't know why, but I want to break glass.
I'm sitting next to your crib, and I'm sobbing like a baby, Lizzie. There's a little plaque over your crib that says, "Mummy loves you."
I miss her. I want to turn back time. I don't want to go on.
I wish this had a happy ending.
I was startled today by an owl rapping on the window. I didn't expect it – most of the people who are offering condolences have already been by.
The owl was to Mummy.
Obviously, the person who wrote it had no idea what happened. It was the people at the frame store, wanting her to pick up the pictures.
I went down to pick them up.
Oh, Sport. Oh, my dear, sweet Elizabeth.
You and Mummy are so beautiful in that picture. Her hair is swept back, and you are sitting in her lap. You look so incredibly happy.
Engraved on the frame is, "Happy birthday from Ginny and Sport."
I think I'm going to cry.
Elizabeth, Ginny, and Harry – Forever One
It's time to tell a story, Lizzie. It's a true story, and it's probably the saddest story I have ever heard, and the saddest one I've ever told.
Your mummy left on Saturday, and she didn't come and hug me goodbye, or kiss me. I remember her winking, and calling out, "Love you babe." I waved, and said, "You too."
She didn't come and kiss me, because her arms were full.
She was carrying you sweet baby. She wanted you two to get the pictures together. So, she Apparated with you (because your Mummy passed the Dual Apparition test) and took you to lunch.
You were there, my sweet Elizabeth, when the Death Eaters showed up at Dee-Dee's. You were there when they started cursing everything. The two of you were there together. I can't bear to think about it.
I should have been there. I should have been there to protect you two. But I wasn't. I wasn't even there to try.
My baby, I want to hear you laugh again. You weren't even a year old, Sport! Why did you have to leave this earth so soon?
I miss you so much. It's destroying me that you will never know how I feel, and you'll never hear how much I love you. I miss you. I miss you so much. I'll always miss you.
But I'm so glad that I knew you, held you, loved you. I'm so glad I got the chance.
Isn't it lucky that I had you and Mummy, no matter how short the time, Lizzie?