Heterotelic: having the purpose of its existence or occurrence apart from itself.

January 9, 1980

The dream was a terrible one, although Lily did not know exactly why. It always began with her looking for something very important, walking from room to room in the small house and growing more and more frantic when she did not find it. James followed her, usually silent or sometimes saying her name softly, sadly, as if watching her broke his heart, but he would not help her look no matter how many times she asked.

The last room would always be the second bedroom because they kept nothing in there but an extra bed and a few of the boys' clothes. But when Lily pushed open the door, the room would be empty and for some reason this would ignite a horror in her, a devastation that seemed to empty her from the inside out. Sunlight was pouring into the room, bouncing off the yellow walls and across the bare carpet, and she would scream and run forward as if to find something there, just invisible. James would take her in his arms, catch her and murmur things into her hair that she never could make out, but he didn't understand and she couldn't believe that he didn't understand and would writhe away from him and pound the carpet where there should have been something and think I wish it were me, it should have been me. If you're doing this, take me, too!

She would always wake crying, her pillow soaked with tears. It was the sixth time she'd had this dream since Christmas. Lily pushed herself up in bed, shaking, the sheets clinging to her like cold waterweeds. She glanced sideways, but James was still sleeping, splayed across the mattress with his face crushed into the side of her pillow. She smiled a little, wanting to let him cheer her up as he almost always did, but something about her felt strange and the dream still lingered here in the dark.

Lily pulled her dressing gown from the end of the bed and slipped out the door. She checked the second bedroom, but the bed and the dresser were both still there, the window locked securely. She ran a hand over the white walls, then shook herself and went into the bathroom. She slipped her dressing gown off and turned the tap on to wash the salty tears from her cheeks, hoping the cool water would soothe her, but the moment she bent over the basin, a wave of nausea rolled over her. Without even turning the tap off, she dove for the toilet.

When she had finished, Lily leaned back against the wall, breathing hard. She wanted to wrince her mouth out, but the sink felt a very long ways away form down here. Instead, she opened the cupboard, looking for a washcloth she could douse without standing up. There were none, but a pink box taking up an entire corner of the cupboard caught her eye. A pregnancy test. One of the ones she had bought back in August, when she and James had thought they might be ready for a baby. But they had tried for four months, and nothing, and after the Prewetts' funeral the idea had seemed childish and ill-thought-out.

Was there a chance? Yes, but it was slim. And because she didn't want this obtrusive pink box sitting in her cupboard, staring her down each time she opened it, Lily opened the kit.

Lily woke slowly the next morning to somebody rubbing her hair. Her limbs felt very heavy and her eyes were sore. She burrowed deeper into the blankets.

"Lily?" James sounded wired (probably because he had slept like a dead person last night, she thought somewhat resentfully), and she was not quite up for a wired James this early. "Lily." The hand was gone from her hair and someone was poking her in the back. "I know you're awake. You can't ignore me now that you're finally awake. Come on, I've been waiting all sunrise. My self-restraint is almost gone."

She groaned and pushed his hands away. He let out a frustrated noise and the mattress shook as he bounced off of it. "Fine, I'll be inhumanly patient, but only because you're pregnant."

The door had closed with a soft snap behind him before Lily fully registered his words. Then the blankets went flying.

"I'm what?" she called, wrenching open the door and using the frame for support.

James was halfway-down the stairs. He turned, bemused. "Pregnant. I saw that barmy muggle chemistry thing on the counter. The box said a ring meant –"

But before he could finish, Lily dove for the bathroom door. Sure enough, just visible in the slanting mirror beneath the test tube was a distinct, dark ring.

When James gently pushed open the door a minute later, it was to find her sitting cross-legged on the cold tiled floor, one hand resting over her abdomen.

"You didn't know?" he asked, dropping down next to her.

Slowly, she shook her head. "The results take two hours. I was tired."

He laughed a little and pulled her into his lap. "Then let me be the first to tell you that you, Lily Potter, are expecting." He grinned then, a smile that he probably couldn't have scraped off his face if he'd tried, although it dimmed a little when she didn't reciprocate. "You're happy about this, right? This is happy news, isn't it?"

"Yes," she breathed finally and threw her arms around James with such force they almost fell backward. "Yes!"

And quite suddenly, the terror of the dream seamed to make sense.

A/N: And now Lily, because the word seemed like hers. I had to do some research for this one. 1970's era pregnancy tests were not nearly as convenient as our modern gadgets. This didn't turn out as internal as I expected it to, but hopefully it all ties together with the word alright anyway.

It's been lovely hearing from you all! Lots of love!