He had seen them light up in happiness, widen in wonder, glow with warmth, burn with concern, shine with mirth and, due to his own scathing words, tear up in pain.
Those eyes he would never forget, could never have.
Lily was Potter's, body and soul, had been for many years. Even in death, she had joined the lion in heaven, while the snake, no matter where he went now, would always end up in his own, personal hell.
Maybe it was by his own violation, but, as fate would have it, her being with Potter may have been unavoidable. Had he not uttered it, that sacrilegious insult, had he managed to overcome his own pride – would he have been forced to stand aside for her happiness's sake? Watched her cheeks flush with the mentioning of that other man's name? Listened to her prattling on about their dates, expected to encourage her, as a friend? Would he have been invited to the wedding? Been proclaimed their lovechild's godfather?
Now, placed on James Potter's face, Lily's eyes still lived a life of their own. Still as beautiful as ever, as though they didn't know they didn't belong there. Or maybe that was exactly where they wanted to be.
Much like the woman herself, they, too, now belonged to James.
Without her, his own life may have been that of a true Death Eater. He may have died an even more wicked man tonight. But, that way, he may have remained blissfully unaware of the concept of conscience. A Slytherin and a Griffyndor were never meant to meet.
So, if nothing else, if not happiness, not even numb unawareness, let him steal just this moment, just this one glance, just…
"Look… at… me…"