WHO: Calla Puri, with cameo of Dahlia → Lily Potter, with cameo of Harry WHEN: Evening of November 16 → An evening in late July of 1981 WHERE: The Puri's home → The Potter's home SUMMARY: Calla tries to put Dahlia to bed and gets help from a memory of a lullabye. WARNINGS: None
Calla tipped her head to the side, letting her temple press to the side of the rocking chair she and Dahlia were sitting in. To be more accurate, she was the one doing the sitting, while her daughter laid in her arms, looking up at her mother with her big, brown eyes that looked so much like Jahan's. A pacifier was in her mouth and she would occasionally reach out with a pudgy little hand to swipe toward her mother's face, but Calla could see with every rock of the chair and every blink of her eyes that she was not long for the world of waking.
And it was about time. Calla didn't know why the girl had been so filled with energy that night, but it was much later than normal. She'd volunteered to put her to bed, all of her grading done for the evening by some miracle. More than that, she craved these moments. In just over a week, her little girl would officially be one whole year old. Not knowing where the year had gone and suspecting that the following years would go by just as quickly, she wanted to hold onto moments like this as often as she could. Though she cherished every moment she was granted with Dahlia, it was hard not to especially love these quiet moments where she could just be with her, looking at her perfect face, and wondering over and over again how she and Jahan had managed to create something so pure.
Keeping up the rocking, Calla reached up with one of her hands and gently let her fingers smooth out Dahlia's soft hair. She lifted an arm herself, her fingers curling around her mother's thumb in a way that made Calla turn to absolute puddy.
Suddenly, she was in another world. The room was different, the orientation not quite right and the toys and crib not looking like anything that could have been bought in 2017. One thing that hadn't changed, though, was the rocking chair that Lily was sitting in, rocking the nearly one-year-old Harry to sleep in. His green eyes were wide, his thumb in his mouth.
"You're really fighting it tonight, aren't you, love?"
Harry's gaze lifted to his mother, no change in his expression outside of the shift in his eyes. Lily smiled, her fingers gentle as she tried to tame her son's already unruly hair; he had inherited his father's head of hair, that much was certain. But those eyes. His eyes were all her.
As she continued to rock, Lily breathed out a soft sigh and tipped her head to the side, a familiar gesture as she looked down at her son. The love she felt for the small person in her arms was so absolute, so all-encompassing. Quietly, she started to hum, though eventually the humming turned into soft singing. She didn't need to worry about waking James as she knew he was awake in the sitting room, but she hoped that keeping the sound low would only lull Harry closer to sleep. The words formed into a familiar lullabye, one that she remembered her mother singing to herself and Petunia all those years ago.
And just like that, Calla was back in Dunhaven. Her brow furrowed. It was the first time she'd had one of those strange memory-like dreams when she was awake, but it was just as jarring as if she'd woken to it. This was different than the others, though. Rather than panic or sorrow, she felt a warmth flooding through her. Looking down at Dahlia, she saw that her daughter -- who managed to look nothing and everything like the boy in her dream -- was nearly asleep. Without even realizing she was doing it, she started to hum… and then sing, the very same lullabye that she'd been singing in the dream. The same lullabye that her mother had sang to herself and Violet, one that she hadn't thought about in years.
"I see the moon and the moon sees me…"
Dahlia's eyes fluttered, trying desperately to stay away. She flailed her arm once more, as though that would do the trick.
"God bless the moon and God bless me…"
And then finally, finally her eyes closed. Her breathing grew steady. Her little arm fell limp, no longer struggling to keep herself awake. Calla wouldn't be able to put her bed for a few moments, any moving or jostling sure to jolt her out of the well earned sleep, but that was okay. She continued the lullabye, determined to hold onto this memory, this reality.