Disclaimer: No, I don't own Harry Potter.
October 31, 1979.
"Sources say that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has recruited at least a dozen more followers today. The nation has gone into high alert. Remember, stay indoors and do not admit anyone into your homes! Aurors at the ministry are prepared for battle if necessary. The following report is being brought to you by the Ministry of Magi—." He shut the radio off. Outside rain continued to fall in mocking drops, as if it were laughing at his loneliness.
He glanced at the gold wristwatch he wore. 9:30pm, and still no sign of her. Not even one telephone call to tell him she was safe. He knew he should have been worrying. She was safe in her parents' house miles away. But he could not help thinking about what could possibly happen to her there without his protection.
His friends had tried to be supportive, but their girlfriends were home with them, not five hours away. Watching Sirius wind his arm about his girlfriend's waist as he left earlier that afternoon only made him want to throw the both of them out into the street—do something to injure their happiness. But he held back, managing a slight wave and a less-than-sincere smile as they apparated away.
A hot tear rolled down his face, and he hurriedly wiped it away, embarrassed to cry, even when he was alone. His face began to burn from holding back his tears, and he rested his head against the cool glass of the window to relax, his glasses making a slight clink as the met the window pane. Mist began to appear where his shaky breath met the glass. It was still raining, harder than before even. He watched a drop slowly slide down the window before merging with another drop, and finally continuing its journey to the window sill. Another one caught his attention, and his eyes followed its meandering path, almost sympathizing for its confusion at where to turn next.
He turned away from the window, determined not to look outside any longer, waiting for her to appear. The room had been cast in shadow, the only light coming from the streetlamp in the nearby corner. Not once did it cross his mind to turn on the floor lamp. He wanted the room to reflect his mood.
Dejectedly, he sat in the armchair that faced their small radio. Should he turn it on, he wondered, and let the propaganda that was exposed to the masses seep into him? It could help him, he reasoned. But was listening to a bunch of lies made by people who were just as scared as the mass population worth it in exchange for a moment without worry? Then again, there was always music.
He pushed the button to turn the machine on, and then turned the knob till he found the right station. A song came through the speakers; her favorite song. He sat back and let the notes and words wash over him, not paying attention to what they sounded like, for all he could think about was her. She was always in his thoughts, even when they were both just eleven years old and were not yet familiar with the ways of love.
He heard a distant ring. The phone! He jumped up and rushed over to pick it up, thanking all the years of muggle studies it took for him to finally be able to get used to using one. He clutched the receiver to his hand, hoping, praying to Merlin that it was her voice on the other end.
"Hello?" he asked.
"James?" It was not her voice that answered; his hopes were crushed again.
"James, are you still there?" the voice asked, worry laced in it.
"Yeah Remus I'm still here." He was surprised his voice actually came out. He would have been even more surprised if Remus could hear him, his voice was barely above a whisper.
"Oh, good, I was worried for a second." Silence fell, both of them not knowing what to say. It was Remus who broke it.
"So have you heard from her yet? It's getting kind of late, and we're getting a bit worried."
James shook his head, aware that Remus could not see him, but he needed to do something, anything, to keep him from crying. "No, not yet." His voice cracked.
"Oh, well keep your hopes up James, you'll be hearing from her soon, don't worry," Remus said, trying to give his friend a little hope. It did not work. James was still enveloped in darkness while Remus was in the light.
"Yeah, I'll try." No goodbyes were said. Both boys knew their conversation was over, and the phones were hung up. He was alone again, the dark house his only companion. A flash of lightening illuminated the room for a moment, and he caught his reflection in the window. His face was void of all emotions, yet expressive at the same time. He looked...tired. But if he was tired, then why did it feel like adrenaline was surging through his body, pushing against his brain, and making him feel as though he was going to burst. He could not take it anymore. He had to let go.
Reacting on the sudden adrenaline rush, he bolted out of the room, through the adjacent foyer and burst out the front door and into the rain. He tilted his face up to the sky, and let the rain wash his face, the drops blending in with the tears he finally let go. Here no one could tell if he was crying, unless they looked close enough, and the only person who he would ever let look that close was absent.
"LILY!" his agonized cry rang out amongst the claps of thunder and the splash of raindrops, the forlorn cry of the lonely.
"LILY!" He called her again, almost hoping that she would answer him, or magically appear before his eyes. Anything was possible; he was a wizard after all.
But nothing happened. The street stayed empty; the sidewalk void of pedestrians. He gulped in oxygen as his cries became louder and more desperate. He had never felt more alone in his whole life.
"WHY WON'T YOU FUCKING BRING HER BACK TO ME!" he yelled to no one in particular, and again no one answered. Shoulders sagging in defeat, he finally made his way back into the house, swiping his hand over his eyes to wipe away any evidence of the tears. He kicked off his shoes and left them in the hall, and then pulled off the red sweatshirt he wore, throwing it on the couch. She had given him that sweatshirt during the Christmas holidays of their seventh year, and he could not bear to look at it. Not now.
Slowly, he trudged up the stairs to their bedroom and fell onto their bed. His body began to shiver, but it was not only because of the fact that he was soaked and there was no fire in the room to warm him. No, it was because the memories had begun to invade his mind. All of his memories of the two of them, together, in this room, on this bed even, played themselves in his mind like a video tape, and try as he might, he could not block them. He glanced at his watch again. 10:45pm, all hope was lost. He turned on his stomach and buried his face into her pillow, breathing in her intoxicating scent, and letting it lull him to sleep.
Something was holding his hand, rubbing warmth into his frozen fingers. Groggily, he opened his eyes, but found that he could barely see. Someone must have removed his glasses. He groped for them on the bed, but then a hand held them in front of his face. He grabbed them and hurriedly put them on; blinking a bit at the light that now warmed the previously darkened room.
And he could not believe what he saw.
There she was, kneeling before him on their bed, a worried look upon her face, as she attempted to warm his hands again. Still shocked, he removed one of his hands from her gentle grasp and ran it along her cheekbone and across her jaw, trying to convince himself that he was not dreaming. He fingered a lock of her hair, and was shocked to see that it was very wet. Taking a glance at her clothes, he noticed that both her shirt and jeans were soaked. She was probably just as cold as he was.
He sat up and took her small ands into his, lacing their fingers together. She titled her head up to look at him; her eyes were puffy and red, as though she had been crying. His fingers unlaced themselves with hers and made their way to her face, holding it still so he could get a proper look at her.
"Lily," he asked, "are you alright?"
He felt her face relax under his touch as her hands covered his, clutching to them as if any second he was going to disappear. A small smile graced her features and she nodded, shutting her eyes to bite back fresh tears.
Still holding her face perfectly still, he leaned his forehead against hers, the small contact sending shivers down his spine
"Oh Merlin," he whispered, " Merlin, I thought I lost you." One of his hands left her face and ran through her hair, combing out the tangles in her red curls.
"You thought you lost me?" she asked. "I thought you were dead when I came home to a dark house."
He pulled back, and kissed the crown of her head, trying to reassure her that he was indeed alive and well. His arms wound around her small frame as he pulled her closer, letting her bury her face into his somewhat dry t-shirt. He smiled, relishing in the fact that they fit so perfectly together, like two puzzle pieces, each complementing the other.
"Lily, how did you get here anyway?"
"I drove," came her muffled response.
The unexpectedness of her answer caused him to jerk her roughly away from his embrace and look at her with shock.
"You what!" he exclaimed. "Lily, do you know how dangerous that was? What if someone caught you, or what if you had been in an accident? Or what if you were stuck in the middle of nowhere, and someone found you then?"
Lily silenced him by placing her hand over his mouth. "James, you know perfectly well that I couldn't Floo here because the Ministry blocked the network, and apparating was too dangerous especially if one of his people saw me. So I did the only thing I could think of to make myself seem as muggle-like as I could. I drove all night to get here James, and I'm safe, can't we both just forget about how I got here and just be happy that we're together." Her green eyes were pleading for him to understand, and she looked so tired.
James nodded as he took her hand off his mouth, and kissed her fingertips. "Alright Lily," he said as he pulled her close again, "alright."
And then he kissed her as though it were the first and last time he would ever do it, not caring about how wet he was, and not caring about how sick he was going to be the next morning. All he cared about was in his arms at the very moment that he sat in the bedroom he shared with his wife of four months, ready to show her just how much he loved her.