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