"You stupid bitch! It's fucking ruined!" Harry's father's voice rang through their house in Godric's hollow. He sighed as he listened to his parents fighting downstairs, and rolled over on his bed to stare at the wall.

"It's only food, James! It's not my fault…" his mother's voice sounded weak. He knew how their arguments affected her, but she loved James too much to let him go.

Their voices soon died down. Perhaps they realised he could probably hear them. Perhaps something worse had happened…

Harry got up off his bed and stared at the mess of his room. He never tidied it because he only came home for summers. It often crossed his mind about how his life would be if he were raised by others; sometimes he longed for it, and sometimes he realised it could be worse. The 'others' could be his mother's sister Petunia and her git of a husband. They probably wouldn't argue as much though…

----

"There's never anything left for us to live on!" the male raged again.

"That's because you waste it all on fire whiskey!" She fought back this time. "James. You come home from a small-time job, after going down the pub for several hours with Sirius, bringing with you several crates of the stuff and drink yourself into a deep sleep!"

"Because I can't stand you!"

"I can't stand you! You arrogant pig! Get out."

Wait…what?

"You heard me James Potter. Get out."

"Lils…" his voice was the weak one now. He was cracking under that stone gaze that came from her green eyes.

Harry sat quiet. In his bedroom, as always. Just listening. His ears sensitive to their speech now. He slowly got up and crept out to the stairs. Is it my fault? Were they fine until I was born?

He could see the tears filling up his mother's eyes as his father stood helplessly.

"James. Please. Just-just go." Her voice trembled now. Harry could see her heart breaking. She didn't mean it.

"Lily, please, I'm so sorry-"

"I'm sick of your apologies!" she yelled through salt-water.

"Make her stop!" Harry found his voice. "Can't you see it's hurting her! Dad!" He was desperate now. "She didn't mean what she said. And neither-neither did you."

"Go back to your room, Harry." Lily said calmly.

"This is nothing to do with you." His father said angrily.

"It's everything to do with me! You're my parents! You're meant to love each other."

"It's nothing to do with you!" His father repeated.

"James!" Lily said, switching her gaze from Harry to James. "Don't talk to him like that."

"He has no right to talk to me like that! He's my son!"

"Our son!" His mother said angrily "everything's always just about you, isn't it!"

Bang. The front door slammed shut behind their son.

-------------

Harry always has to come back. Perhaps it's guilt. Perhaps he doesn't want to ruin anyone else's happy family. Perhaps he wants to save his own family.

Days and weeks and months and years, all go by in a repeating sequence of slamming doors, slamming fists, raised voices and threats of divorce. Until…

"James?" his mother's tired voice called from the bedroom. Once more, it seemed she had woken to find his side of the bed empty. But this time there were sounds of movement in the room. "James?"

"Mmmph." His voice wasn't making words, just sounds, as he closed the suitcase and attempted to move it.

Thump. Thump. Thump. "James?"

He was making his way down the staircase with his things. Lily stood, now dressed, at the top of them, and began walking down them towards her husband.

Harry woke up. He left his room to watch from the doorway.

"I'm leaving." his father said. "I've had enough, Lils."

The moment froze. All three hearts in that house were breaking.

"Ja…Jamie…please…"

"I'm sorry." He opened the front door and went out to his car, putting his case in the back before moving back to the doorway where his wife now stood. "Here's my key. I won't need it anymore." He held out the small piece of metal.

"You're a wizard you idiot. You don't need a key." Lily smiled slightly through the silent tears that were dripping down her face as she said this. And it was the last thing she ever said to him.

She turned to see her son standing at the top of the stairs.

"You did this." he said, before turning back into his room, closing the door quietly, before laying down to cry.

His mother trembled from head to toe as she walked to the living room. The photographs…

She sat down on the couch, numb and empty.

He's gone.