Most people in her life, when she said she was fine, let the matter drop. Lily had become far too skillful over the past year at dodging the subject, at sliding out from under any scrutiny. So when she told Harry it was fine, she wasn't expecting anything further on the matter.

But then, as he spoke, she felt some portion of that wall she had shoved all the maternal feelings about Harry behind begin to break down. He had said it was too late and, in her hurt and anger and confusion, Lily had taken that at face value. She had tried to forget that, some days, her arms literally ached to hold him. That there was a strange tightness in her throat as she thought about the fact she'd missed his first step, that she didn't know what his first word was, that she hadn't been there when he was sick or had a fridge covered in his drawings.

From the moment she'd learned she was pregnant, all Lily had wanted was to be his mum. When he'd stood there and told her that she was too late, that nothing she said mattered, anymore, it was like that part of her had died all over again. Lily felt cold; all she could do was rage against the man who had taken those years from her. And then she'd discovered that she couldn't even do that.

But then Harry was saying... Well, that he wanted her to be there. That he'd thought about her. That he'd missed her. And that part of her thawed a little.

Swallowing hard, she dropped her eyes to the table for a second before raising them back up, their green depths made brighter by a sheen of unshed tears. "You're one good kid, Harry James Potter. I hope you know that."

What more could she say? There was a lump pressing in her throat, cutting off any more words. So she simply rose and walked around the table, sitting next to him and pulling Harry into a tight embrace. "I love you," she whispered fiercely. "I always loved you. And we do have time. We'll figure it out."