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Written for the Occasion-A-Day - Day 4 - A mother/daughter relationship.

An Extra Bond

There's a moment, when you have a child, that the world comes to a stop. There is nothing but this tiny little human that needs you to provide everything for it. I experienced that seven times, with seven children, but none more so that with my last.

My Daughter.

Six sons, and I love them all dearly, but there was an extra connection, as extra bond, when my newborn daughter was placed on my chest. She was so beautiful and so helpless, and I knew, for her more than any other, I would have to provide everything.

As she grew, she made me smile. She made me laugh. She made me cry. The first time she told me she no longer needed help in the bath, I was so proud and yet so vulnerable to the pain it caused. She was my little girl, and I knew she was starting to gain independence. There would come a time when she didn't need me for anything, and the very thought sent terror through me. She went to Hogwarts, and if I cried more then than with the others, well, Arthur didn't say anything as he held me. He understood as much as a man, as much as a father ever could.

The floo flared and I thought I was going to die. My daughter, my innocent little girl, taken to the chamber. And then there was Ron and Harry, and she was alive and oh, the blessed relief.

I never heard the full story, and the look on Arthur's face when he was through talking to the boys was enough to tell me I didn't need to know exactly what had transpired. If Arthur later told me that we owed Harry anything he could possibly need, well, I would have given it anyway.

Years passed and the war started to gain momentum and I don't think there was a moment where I wasn't fearful of what could happen to any of my family at any given time. Then the battle, and Ginny, my little girl, all grown and demanding to be allowed a chance to fight alongside her brothers. Alongside her father and me.

Alongside Harry.

Then it was over, and my heart was in my mouth and my lungs were burning and the war was over but then so was my world. Because lay on the floor in the great hall, was my little girl.

Unmoving. Unseeing.

Dead.