Reflections on Death
A/N: This was a little plot bunny that wouldn't stop pestering me until I wrote it down. I saw Moulin Rouge the other day, and as much as I LOVE that movie it seems like a lot of love stories end that way. With one lover professing their undying love, how much the other has to offer the world, and other such rubbish that they shouldn't be able to say because they are moments away from death! I felt a depiction of death with two lovers who didn't die in the romantic/sappy way was in order. Tell me what you think. Much love. :D
Death isn't how it is in the movies; with two lovers finally overcoming all odds only to have one confess that they are dying. Yet they somehow find the strength to then give a monologue that captures their last moments (which seemingly last forever) and express their deep love and how they should "go on without me" and about how "you have so much to offer the world." Then they slip away quite peacefully with their eyes closing serenely in death. They leave behind a person who is sobbing theatrically in "deep anguish."
That isn't how death works.
Death doesn't leave time for goodbyes and heartfelt confessions of love. It comes completely taking you by surprise, leaving no time for tears until long after the shock has worn off. Their eyes don't close as if in a peaceful slumber. In our time eyes were often found wide open in fear and panic. However, I never got to see his eyes—or say goodbye. I never even got to tell him how much I loved him, one last time.
It happened so suddenly—I don't think either of us was expecting it. On one seemingly average night James and I were just finishing up dinner and were on the verge of taking Harry up to bed. That's when the knock sounded on the door—three loud, harsh, resounding knocks. At the time I'd been picking up the dishes to put them in the sink. That's when the door came flying off the hinges with such force I dropped the plates and the loud noises had caused Harry to start wailing.
I didn't hear him though as I looked over to James with so much fear and shock. This is the part where he's supposed to kiss me and comfort me and tell me everything is going to be all right—but we didn't have time for that. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion, yet so sickeningly fast that my head was spinning.
"Lily, it's Him!" James voice broke through my swimming thoughts and grounded me. "Grab Harry and run!" He spoke with such conviction and command that I had no choice but do as he said. But I couldn't. Leave James alone to battle…Him? That was a sentence to death. Seeing my hesitation he placed Harry in my arms and shoved me towards the stairs. "GO!"
And so I ran, I pounded up the stairs hardly believing what was happening. We could all die tonight. James was downstairs battling Voldemort, and I had to protect Harry. Harry cannot die. He is the one who will save us all.
I was almost to the top of the stairs when I heard it, or rather, I saw it. There was a flash of green light that couldn't have been terribly bright, but it blinded me. Because I knew what that green light meant and it scared me so much I couldn't see. I thought I might never see again. I never heard the curse, but what I heard stopped my heart. There was a deep thud from downstairs. It was an awful, empty sound that I'd heard too many times before. The sound of a body hitting the floor.
And I couldn't move. I couldn't think. James was dead. He was gone and I hadn't even gotten to say goodbye! To say I loved him so much. To kiss him one last time. I couldn't do this without him. I couldn't raise Harry without him. Harry needed him. I needed him. But that's when I knew—I wasn't going to survive.
But Harry couldn't die, that much I knew. I knew what I had to do and Gods it was so hard to go through with it. There was an old form of magic binding my life force, through my love to shield Harry and protect him. It was no good to fight Him. If James hadn't lived then I most certainly wouldn't. James was the best dueler I knew, besides Dumbledore, of course. So I had to protect Harry, not by fighting, but by willing to die so that he could live.
I performed the charm and put my wand in my back pocket, placing Harry in his crib with a tender kiss. Goodbye, Harry, I thought. And then the tears did come. Not in gut wrenching sobs, but slowly they rolled down my cheek as I kissed my son goodbye forever.
That's when Voldemort burst it demanding I step aside so that he could kill my boy. The charm I cast would not work unless I died. Besides, I thought, this way I'll get to see James again. And so when Voldemort realized I would not stand aside and watch him kill my son he turned to me and said with finality, "Avada Kedavra!"
So death is not as it is in the movies. Theatrical, peaceful, and tragically romantic. It is a price that should not have to be paid. James and I were 22 when we were killed and that is far too young. We missed out on countless wedding anniversaries, watching Harry grow up, having more children, and all of the other things that come with growing older. But we had a decision to make. Die or save our son. We chose to die rather than let our baby be killed. So death is not such a light-hearted thing to make one cry in sappy love stories, but a step in life, and whether or not you're ready to take it—it will come.
A/N: Please review and tell me what you thought! You can also check out my other stories on my profile. Thanks for reading:)