Disclaimer: I do not own the world of Harry Potter; I just play with the people when I get lonely.

A young woman, heavily pregnant with her first child, stumbled down a long, curving, dirt path. She had to find shelter soon. The pains in her stomach were growing stronger with every step she took. She was running out of time and she was frightened. The wind whistled through the forest around her. She had no knowledge of where she was or how long she had been walking. The forest was growing darker and the woman was grateful that it was not raining as it had been for several days before. At least the weather was on her side.

The path curved several more times before the woman saw a small cottage with smoke rising from the chimney. Thankful tears swam in her eyes as she quickened her pace, desperate to reach it before her legs decided they could carry her no further.

Pounding on the door, she screamed, "Help me, please, I need help!"

Within moments, the woman heard someone moving about behind the door, and a candle had been light, the light from it flowing from the window.

"Who's there?" A male voice asked from the other side of the closed door. "What do you want?"

"Please," the woman cried out anxiously, "you have to help me. I'm pregnant and the baby is coming."

The door flung open reveling a man in this late twenties, with a thick beard, wearing nothing but some wore slacks and holding a sword. His eyes widened when he saw the woman, who was now doubled over in pain, holding her protruding stomach. He scanned the area around the woman making sure that there was no one laying in wait for the opportunity to attack.

Seeing that the woman was alone he quickly picked her up and moved into the cottage, kicking the door shut behind him. He gently placed the woman on the bed, and then went to heat some water and gather a few pieces of cloth and some towels.

When he returned, the woman's face had paled considerably. He dipped one of the cloth pieces in a bucket of cold water, squeezed the excess water out, and placed the cloth across the woman's forehead.

"What is your name?" The man asked in a gentle voice.

"Tamara," she answered through gritted teeth as another, fiercer, pain rippled through her body. "Tamara Gryffindor."

"My name is Pierce Bangalore," he said with a smile. "I've never done this before, help bring a child into the world that is. Though I have watched my mother help my aunt. We may be in for a long night. Just get as comfortable as you can. You'll get through."

As the night went on, the pains became stronger and stronger. Then just as the sun broke the horizon, the cottage was filled with the cries of an infant boy.

"Well, he has certainly got a set of lung on him," Pierce said laughing. "Here you are Tamara, here is your son. He sounds very healthy."

"He is beautiful," Tamara said softly, taking her son into her arms and looking at him for the first time, tears of joy rolling down her face.

"He looks like you, he has your nose, and you both have very blonde hair," he said smiling broadly as he watched the new mother rock her son. "What are you going to call him?"

"I don't know, I haven't really thought about it. He needs a good name, a strong name." speaking slowly, as her mind raced with possibilities.

"Well, maybe you should name him after his father, most men name their first son after themselves."

Tamara laughing, "I'm not doing that, his father's name is Dronic, and he's a right prat, if you ask me."

"Dronic? Really? What kind of a name is that? Who would do that to their child? That's a horrible name. No, definitely not, Dronic is out of the question." Pierce gestured for Tamara to hand him the child.

Smirking she handed her baby to him, "Well, what do you think?"

"Well, I guess we'll just have to put him back in until you think of a name," he said jokingly as he moved from the bed, lifting a corner of the blanket.

"You can't put him back. It hurt enough going the other way!" Trying hard to control her laughing. She thought it crazy that they had only just met and already she felt much more comfortable around him then she did most her friends, including her son's father.

"Fine, have it your way then. He still needs a name though, something that goes good with Gryffindor," he paused thinking, walking around the room with the baby trying to comfort him, muttering names under his breath. "How about Brattice, what do you think, son?" The baby answered by crying louder. "I don't think he likes that one. Okay, how about Donald, Donald Gryffindor? No, that doesn't sound right." All at one Pierce had a look of awe on his face. "I know, tell me what you think Tamara, how about Godric."

"Godric Gryffindor," Tamara repeated the name to herself, holding her arms out to take the baby. "What do you think of that little one?"

The boy gave a small hiccup and settled in his mother's arms.

"Well, I think that answers it," Pierce said "Godric it is.

A/N: This is my first story of this kind. Reviews are appreciated, but please be gentle.