Sad Beautiful Tragic

Marlene McKinnon's whole family got taken out in one sweep.

One by one, we're etching our friends' names into gravestones.

Benjy Fenwick got a knife to the chest seven times.

One by one, I count his wounds as he's lowered into the ground.

Edger Bones' sister was in tears when she got the news about her brother.

One by one, we're all falling.

Something in your hazel eyes keeps me from going too mad as I watch all my friends fall swiftly to the ground like the leaves fall in October. You hold me through every funeral procession and kiss me out of every nightmare. I hope you know I love you, more than anything. I'm lovestruck and won't ever leave your side, no matter how badly I fear watching you fall next.

Darkness follows us, lurking in the shadows, working on behalf of Death to try and bring us to our knees. We're resented for our resilience but I'll keep damning the devil, so long as it means keeping you in my arms. We walk fragile lines that threatens to break with each step in the right direction. I'm soaked in darkness, it cuts me open at different angles, trying to break me. You never let the darkness pull me in too far. Shadows settle around us and my eyes are damp as the sun sinks beneath a green painted sky.

At home your stare has suddenly become cold, you want to talk but it's not open for conversation.

I'd bleed over and over again for you, my love.

We both rise to the challenge and take on the obstacles. We're side by side, no matter the cost. It's our human spirit, shaking the very core of our souls as we stand in a line only twenty bodies deep. We all bear the same mark; we all have the same phoenix emblem that singles out friends from foe. We fight until there's no fight left and blood mixes with rain on the muddy ground. Somehow, we manage to escape the clutches of death yet again.

Back at home you press me into the walls, desperate to feel something other than loss and pain. My fingers trace the phoenix on your chest as you kiss away the pain. The phoenix is a symbolic creature because it cheats death, always rising from it's ashes when it dies. I personally find the phoenix symbol etched into your chest ironic because I'd cheat death a thousand times, if it meant that I'd get one more day of loving you.

You hold me like I'm made of glass, about to break. You kiss me like we're going to miss out on the next sunrise. You touch me like my gravestone is already etched and awaiting me in the cemetery. You won't leave me there alone, you won't ever leave me alone. I feel your fingers wrap into my red curls. Your warm smile presses into my neck.

"Hold onto me."

You swear to protect me but you never seem to realize that you cannot protect me from myself.

You're all I wanted, my dream come true, so it's only fair that I dream of losing you too.

I know my bad dreams are more than true and they're going to get to you. I keep having visions where you're in quicksand, disappearing into a thick black stream. I'm screaming your name but your dying in a pool of blood and I can't save you. The shadows in the daylight with my eyes open are scary but they are nothing compared to the dark shadowy crevices of my own mind. Something in the shadows chases us, staying just out of reach and waiting for the opportune moment to blacken any remaining color in our lives.

I want to run but they'll follow us until our feet bleed and we're begging for mercy. I want to sleep but I can't because my bad dreams are a reality waiting to happen. I could cry, but what's the use? I'm immune to my own feelings. I feel like a broken shell of a person. Tears are just like rainstorms in England, they come and go everyday.

The war outside our door keeps raging on.

I want life, not death, and we're just children but now we've got a child of our own. We both know the only reason we're still standing is because we've got two tiny hands to hold onto. Two tiny hands that play in my hair as I kiss you good morning over the paper. Two tiny hands with five sticky fingers each that grab onto your drawing utensils and dirty them with baby food. Two hands that torment the poor cat so much that he's taken to sleeping in the attic.

Harry is our everything now.

My arms are the arms he falls into when the world becomes too much for his little heart. Your face is the first face he sees when he wakes up in the middle of the night, crying out in the darkness. We're trying to be good parents but we aren't able to get rid of the feeling that if we blink too fast, our son might slip out of our hands before we even have a chance to enjoy him.

I stand with my back to the wall, staring out windows, refusing to let my guard down. Death doesn't stop chasing you just because you have a child, in fact, that just makes Death want you more.

Things get worse and I think I'm losing my mind. You are too, although you swear that you are fine. We walk through the house like ghosts, barely speaking. We wonder what kind of night we're going to have and we begin to dread the silver messages flying through our sitting room. We answer the calls together, like old times. Harry doesn't mind, old Bathilda down the road is Godsent and takes good care of our baby boy when we disappear for hours at a time.

One night, I almost don't make it back to Bathilda's and you want to talk again.

It's not open for discussion.

Nothing has changed, I would die for both of you. I will never regret making a difference for us and those who are like us. I fight in honor of my friends who lay, stone cold, in the ground. Death might be watching us like a vulture on a battlefield but as far as I'm concerned, Death can take me on before he ever even touches you. You're mine and I don't want to share you with any other world but my own selfish one.

You are my shining star in a sea of night and I don't ever want you to burn out.

I don't want to live in a world without your laugh. I can't imagine not hearing you sing Harry to sleep or watching you attempt to make blueberry pancakes from scratch. I hold on to the memories I gather, the little domestic things you do.

Time doesn't stand still.

I blink and suddenly Harry's just turned one year old. Our son is laughing in the tub as I wash birthday cake from his messy black hair. You think Harry's going to be a chaser on the Gryffindor quidditch team so you iced scarlet quaffles onto his cake. The frosting is dripping down Harry's forehead and I have a mild panic attack as my brain distorts icing into blood. When you hear by sobbing you come running into the loo, wand aloft until you see I'm clutching Harry in the bath fully clothed. You get into the tub with us and we sit there as a family, soaking in the red stained warm water.

I've just realized how much I have to lose.

It's not safe to walk the streets anymore. We join hands in the living room when we hear strange sounds. Harry crawls into bed with us at night, always sleeping between us. I stare at you both in the darkness, so in love. I try not to let you catch me staring; I don't want to you ask why I'm memorizing the planes of your face instead of sleeping.

I pray that if Death does come knocking, he takes me and spares my boys.

I show my emotions on my sleeve where as you try to hide them. I know you better than you realize. I see the whites of your knuckles when you sip your coffee in the mornings because you're clutching your cup a little too hard. Your glasses are always smudged from you messing with them as you try to help our friends from within the house. You feel useless and sometimes you snap at me. I know you don't mean it, you've never liked sitting still.

I kiss you and it's barely enough.

I should be excited when Harry walks for the first time. I should be proud when he says his first words. I can't help but wonder if every 'first' will also be his 'last' and the very thought debilitates me. Sirius gets Harry his first broomstick. Harry can barely control it and breaks a vase my sister gave me three christmas' ago. I'm okay with that...it was hideous. You are laughing as you chase Harry around on the broomstick. The cat is protesting loudly. I grab my camera knowing very well it might be the last time that we're all laughing.

You kiss me and it's more than enough.

Harry has learned how to say a few more words and Bathilda has us over for tea quite often. She loves entertaining us with stories of the great Albus Dumbledore as a child. Bathilda uses my help in filing a bunch of old historical documents she's collected over the years. You are still frustrated, being tucked away in the small village of Godric's Hollow, but you try not to show it. You know we were moved for Harry's safety.

There's a spy, too much information is being leaked to the Death Eaters. The Everhart family was murdered in their sleep, according to Sirius. I can't help but wonder if one day, that will be the story of us and, instead of the Everhart's names being murmured at tea sadly, everyone will be talking about the tragedy of the Potter family. I watch as you grow more and more paranoid that Sirius is going to be hunted down if he doesn't go into hiding too. Sirius convinces us, last minute, to switch our secret keeper so that we can throw off the spy.

Peter helps us and it's no surprise, he's always been so eager to help.

"We're safe."

We say it enough that it starts feeling true.

The leaves are changing outside our windows and one day you rake them all up into a pile for Harry. Your laughter matches his as you both play together, not a care in the world. Red, orange and gold leaves create patterns on Harry's jacket as you throw them around with the exuberance of a small child. I trace your smile to memory, to save it for a rainy day.

Happiness is fleeting and I treasure every minute of your happiness. We used to be the lives of the party. We used to love dancing and you used put your hand in my back pocket while we walked around the neighborhood. War took a lot from us and I am thankful for moments where we can live how we used to dream.

Harry is radiating joy, decorating the entrance hall with red and gold. You're trying to take off your cloak but you're too busy laughing at your son making a mess. I sweep Harry into my arms and nuzzle his cheek adoringly. You pinch my bum as you make your way to the kitchen for a firewhiskey. My toes crush the autumn leaves farther into the carpet as I dance a little with Harry to a song floating through the house from the radio in the kitchen.

The sun shines through the curtains of our bedroom on October 31st and it's a beautiful day. I open all the windows to let in some cool air. We all play in the leaves for a bit and then you kiss me slow during Harry's nap. Your eager touches linger once Harry's awake and playing with his building blocks. I'm teasing you because you need a haircut. You press my body into the sofa with a challenging smirk. Harry eats his first cooked carrot and doesn't totally hate it. I'm wearing your favorite shirt and you notice it with a playful gleam in your eyes as I take Harry for bedtime.

We are happier than we've been in a while and for a moment, as I'm walking Harry up the stairs for bed, I don't feel anything but love.

I didn't even look out the window in Harry's nursery. I didn't even question the weird feeling in my gut when I heard a weird noise come from downstairs.

It's not a war without sacrifice.

"Lily! Take Harry and go, I'll hold him off!"

My eyes close when I hear your body crumble, forcing us into a premature goodbye. My whole world seems to stop moving in that instant and I feel like I'm drowning. Every inch of my body feels as if it's being yanked underwater. I cannot breathe, think or move. I don't know what to do and can't recall how to scream.

No.

We were soulmates.

I loved the freckles that dotted the bridge of your nose. I loved the way your hair curled at the edges. I loved the scar on your left wrist and the way it felt to run my fingers over it. I loved everything about you and now, I'm forced to consider a life without you and every single one of your perfect imperfections. You were so good to me and I'm already being haunted by the mere memory of you.

The lights around Harry and I flicker as I lock the door to the nursery in sheer panic. I am defenseless and the farthest thing from safe. I reach for the crib just as the door to the nursery opens so forcefully that it blasts pieces of scrap wood into the air. I suck in a suprised breath as the force of the blast knocks me to the floor in front of the crib. Wood splitters bury into my skin through my clothes and I scream out in agony.

Death finds me next and he's impatient.

I would do anything he asked, if it meant I could save Harry. I would do anything to save our son from suffering the same fate as you. The monster behind black hood is determined and dismisses my pleas. I am heartbroken as I try to bargain my life for our baby's life. My pleas are met with indifference and I am asked to stand aside. I refuse. Harry's little hand is wrapped around my finger through the bars of the crib and I close my eyes.

He wants Harry, it's always been about Harry.

I knew that and so did you.

It's already been too long without your smile, James.

I see a flash of green light and then, just like everyone else, I'm falling.