AN: There's so much to say, but so little to write. Reviews are love.
There no longer seem to be any truly happy moments, no unblemished happiness; all that is is untarnished swallowing darkness. Misery, death and life, but mostly Death. Almost but not quite only Death.
It seems to the two of them as if the world is shrinking. No one wants to say it but they both think it and they both know that the other does too. They two of them are thinking it, feeling it, sensing how their enclosed space that was supposed to be their saviour is now forever shrinking, growing tighter and tighter in both mind and matter. The house they have both worked so hard to acquire, build, love, the house that was supposed to be their safe haven, more and more resembles the prison they have always fought to avoid. Only their son's squeal seems to be able to cross the line that they themselves once created but that You-Know-Who now rules. Darkness, and despair, all-surrounding.
They want to step outside but still they do not. They do not, because out there is even more darkness and pain and suspicion. Nothing good can come of it. Still, the two of them long for days at night, days when their Gryffindor courage shone like a bright beacon of light and hope - not as a dimmed candle, but as a sun. Days of violence and crushing desolation that were dreadful then but now seem preferred because this is not how they were supposed to live. Not Lily and James, not James and Lily. Happiness, they were supposed to have, and happiness they would have had, was it not for the man now known as the Dark Lord. He has infiltrated everything, from the air they breathe to the water they drink and nothing can they do but think of it, keep it in the back of their minds, their thoughts and dreams. It is for Harry they are doing this. Harry. Their son. All is for Harry.
The rushing feeling of actually doing something disappeared months ago, glorious images of war even sooner. Somehow he thought it would remain, some twisted and distant sense of pride. The knowledge, the warmth that came from knowing they three times had defied Voldemort, the most Evil wizard ever to live. But it did not. Hiding away his house all he does is to grow restless and he is not the only one. No matter how badly she tries to hide it he sees, sees Lily's, Love's, dreaming gaze turned to the outside; to the real world with interactions and people and not just the three of them and month old letters. Despite all of it letters are a poor substitute for actual human beings and he wishes desperately that one could reread conversations the way one does the written word. It will never be the same without his Brother near and somehow the hope that they one day will meet again is no longer there.
Would he sacrifice it? Lily and Harry and this? Give it all up? Those are dark thoughts one is not allowed to think, supposed to think. He knows he loves her, loves his son, he really and truly does. But – what about happiness? Does happiness count for nothing? So eventually, because he is a Gryffindor deep down there, he does think of it. Mull over it, never saying anything about it. Would he choose happiness over love? Light over dark? Past over present?
Yes.
There is so much silence, James suddenly reflects one afternoon, not yet even close to the end of October. There has never been silence before, he thinks, not since he was a child in a mansion and even then there were people, relatives, friends, and parents; there was, talking, chatting, laughing. Is this what Harry will remember? he wonders with chills down his back. The silence? He frowns down at the son right next to him, the son who cheerfully builds towers with colourful blocks of wood. There used to be a Sirius, a Remus, a Peter; all of them Friends and Brothers, Comrades, and all of them talking, laughing. He misses them so much that he can hardly breathe at times and it hurts deeply inside, but what is one to do? He knows that Lily knows and that knowledge comforts him because he knows that she tried, she has tried to no end but never can she replace Sirius. Padfoot. He thinks of his Brother with fondness, unknowingly lets his hand travel to his back pocket. He can sense Lily's smile from across the room where she sits with a book she has read a thousand times.
"What?" he asks, pushing his glasses up his nose. Habit.
"You always do that when you think of him," she says, her own wistful longing evident in her voice. She misses him too. Her half-sad smile grows happier as he drags his hand through his hair, almost embarrassed but not quite at being caught in the act. Dammit, he never should have cultivated that habit in fifth year. That grounds him again because something always does these days and he wishes himself back to those times when things were so much easier, better and safer. Happier. But then Harry gurgles and he feels guilt because he has Harry now. Harry. And Lily. Why cannot that be enough? He never had Lily during the easy times. Judging by the small, sad smile on her lips she is thinking the something along the same lines. She rises suddenly, not bothering to turn down a corner in the book she has read before because she has read it before. Lily, Love, sits down next to him.
"I wouldn't change our lives for anything in the world," she says out loud and he cannot help but to feel the immense guilt inside, eating him up. He wants to thrown up but then he sees that glimpse in her eyes. Just a glimpse, but a glimpse he has seen before. He considers it as he tells her the same, reassures her because never would he let her carry this burden, despite all those vows that said he would. He loves her, simple as that. And he remembers the glimpse in her eyes, simply because he has seen it rarely before. It's a glimpse just as telling as her twirling her hair, patting her tummy, playing with her ring. A sign of lies. But somehow that comforts him. He is not alone, even in this. She would choose happiness too.