You wake in a garden.

No, not a garden, it's a park - the park. It's the park you told me about, the one you spent most of your childhood in. The one with the rusted swings and the flowers by the pond and the one where Snape told you you were special all those years ago.

He was right, you know. Not just about the magic. You're special. You always were.

"James?"

I'm here. I told you I would be. I was always going to be here, I think. I just didn't want it to be quite so soon.

"Right here."

You stand up slowly, timidly.

"Where are we?"

"Don't you recognise it?"

"It's - why is everything so empty?"

You look at me with questioning eyes. There's a lump in my throat as I watch you, naked and pale and nervous, waiting, and I hold out my hand not only because I want to comfort you, but because I need comforting too. You're warm when you grab me. I didn't expect that, and I'm not sure why.

You close your eyes as I pull you close against me.

"He got us, didn't he?"

"Yeah. Yeah, he did."

"And Harry?"

"I...I don't know." I pull in a shaky breath and wrap my arms around you. You are warm. Solid. Soft. Nothing seems real, but everything seems more real than ever before. I think of Harry, wherever he is, and my whole body aches with loss; a part of me knows he is not really here. Another part of me wonders if that means - but I don't let myself hope.

"I'm scared." It's barely a whisper, a breath onto my collarbone.

"Me too." We stand there, embracing, for what seems like both forever and a mere moment, like the rest of our lives and a single second. "Where do we go from here?"

You look at me. There is worry in your gaze, but defeated acceptance furrowed into your brow. "There's no way back, is there?"

I smile. My lips creak wearily, and I know you take that as a no.

You are crying when you start to pull me towards the swings. You don't say a thing, but you don't have to. I know every word you can't say, can feel it etched onto the surface of my heart.

"They'll be okay. All of them."

"Maybe." Your voice is thick. You don't look at me, just keep pulling me across the empty, white playground.

"Hopefully."

Hope is all we have now.

We sit on the plastic swings awkwardly, hands clasped between us. I look over at your legs kicking, at your bare feet scraping the ground. Your eyes are bright in a way that hurts to look at.

"I love you. I loved you til the very end." The words are honest and bare. I feel as if they have fallen straight out of my chest.

"The end?" you laugh, though your eyes are still shining with tears. "Does this look like the end to you?"

"The end of what we had," I amend. "The life we tried to live - our future, our family."

You squeeze my hand and a soft smile sits on your lips. "Family never ends. Harry is, and always will be, our son."

"I know," I say as we begin to push off from the ground, "but it's going to be a long time until we see him again."

"Hopefully," you murmur, and I wish I could kiss you in this moment, right here, but we are swinging higher and higher, fingers still entwined. It's less like swinging and more like floating, like we are caught on the breath of the wind.

"I love you," you say, and I can barely see you anymore because everything is turning brighter and brighter.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," and everything is fading but, "I love you, I love you, I love you," and your hand is still warm and real in mine even though the world is burning bright and, when we are falling backwards one last time, I can still hear you, still feel you there, and when we drop into nothingness, I know neither of us is ever letting go.

Ever.