Mother's Day

A tiny six-year-old boy stood looking through the shop-window glass at a beautiful display of flowers. Roses, lilies, violets, belladonna, and baby's breath were arranged artistically and wrapped in soft white tissue-paper tied with silky white ribbon. Next to it was a propped-up card with a heart on the front reading, 'I Love You, Mom.' behind an open box of chocolates. The vivid red heart on the card was reflected in the glasses he pushed further up his nose, as he wondered where his mother was, and if she missed him. He didn't really miss her, because he didn't remember her, but sometimes he wondered what she was like. Would she be the kind of mother who told him bedtime stories every evening, and kissed him to sleep, and waited for him after school with cookies and milk? Or would she be like Aunt Petunia, never smiling at him, always snapping at him to tidy up or go to his little room?

He quickly smoothed down his messy black hair as Uncle Vernon and Dudley came out of the shop, carrying a brightly-wrapped gift. Uncle Vernon jerked his head slightly.

"Come on, boy, we don't have all day!"

Harry Potter obediently followed his uncle and cousin home. One the way, he passed some of his classmates, all either going home with their fathers carrying presents for their mother, or gripping their mothers' hands tightly in their own small, sticky ones, as they went out for dinner.

At dinner that night, Dudley gave Aunt Petunia the card and expensive perfume he and Uncle Vernon had bought earlier. She beamed all over her rather horsy face and gave the plump, blond boy a smacking kiss, hugging him tightly.

"Dudders darling, you're so sweet..."

Harry slid off his chair quietly and ran to his room beneath the stairs. He fetched the card he'd done earlier. It was a piece of paper folded over, and on the cover there was a crayon drawing (he'd 'borrowed' Dudley's crayons that the other boy didn't use anymore) of him and Aunt Petunia. On the inside, he'd printed laboriously, 'Dear Aunt Petunia, Thanks for being my new mommy. Love, Harry.' He went back to the dinner table, clutching the card in his sweaty hands, and walked up to his aunt. Maybe she'll hug me too.

She turned at look at him, for once not frowning. "What do you want?"

He smiled up at her and held out the card. "For you, Aunt Petunia."

Frowning slightly now, she took it and flicked open the card. Her pale eyes widened as she read the line. She stared at it for a moment before looking at the cover. Then she turned to him.

Harry's heart was thudding in anticipation as he grinned up at her, proudly showing off the gap between his front teeth. The grin slowly faded as angry red spots appeared in her cheeks.

'I am not your mother." she said in a low, deadly voice. "You will never think of me as one again. I am not Lily and you would do well to remember that!" Her voice rose to a shout. Dudley and Uncle Vernon were smirking at him. Harry felt tears beginning to prick at his eyes.

"But I only - "

"No buts!" Aunt Petunia crushed the handmade card, so lovingly drawn, in her fist before tossing it into the wastepaper basket. "Leave the table and go to your room. I expect you to be up early tomorrow to sweep the living room floor."

Harry turned and shuffled slowly towards his cupboard, making no sound despite the tears leaking out of his emerald-green eyes. My real mommy would have liked the card...

Seventeen-year-old Harry Potter stood in the ruins of Godric's Hollow, looking at the debris around him. For some reason, the rubble had never been cleared and the house had never been rebuilt - perhaps the Ministry wanted to keep it that way, as a sort of memorial. He touched what looked like a blackened cot. It was here that Lily Potter had died, had given her life in order to save his. He blinked back the tears that were threatening to fall and bent to pick up what looked like a photo frame.

Through cracked and grimy glass, he made out three people waving at him. James Potter grinned up at him, glasses askew, hair standing up in all directions. One arm was flung around his wife's shoulders. Lily Potter smiled lovingly, her expression serene. Wavy red hair fell over her shoulders and tickled the chin of the gurgling baby in her arms with her husband's looks and her eyes. The baby she had died to protect.

Harry gently stroked the image of his mother. With a jolt, he remembered the date.

"Happy Mother's Day, Mum." he whispered, the tears falling freely.