Lily's finger traces the lines on James' face as he wraps his arms tighter around her. She is lying on top of him, her face inches from his. His eyes drink in her beautiful red hair and shining green eyes hungrily and he thinks to himself that he could never tire of staring at Lily.
She smiles and cocks her head to the side, a mischievous grin on her face.
"What are you thinking about?" James asks curiously.
"Oh, just observing," she says. "I was wondering what a baby of ours might look like."
"A ba- what?" James sputters, his brows furrowing. "What do you mean, a baby?"
"You've never thought about having a baby with me?" Lily asks her husband, looking slightly hurt.
"No. Well, yes. Of course. Just…we're in the middle of a war. I can't stand the idea of you in danger, let alone a helpless child. Our child." James searches her face frantically.
"I know," Lily admits. "But what if I die? What if I die before I get to be a mother? What if I never get to see a little baby with black hair and green eyes and your smile?"
James is silent. He is imagining a little girl with Lily's fiery hair and brilliant mind and beautiful skin. He can't stop the smile that's spreading across his face. He has never wanted something so much in his life.
"A baby," he whispers reverently. "Our baby. Me and you, together, in one person."
Lily nods and starts to say something but her words are silenced as James crushes his lips to hers.
And, some months later, when he finally holds Harry in his arms, James can't help but think that he could never tire of staring at his son.