Somewhere in the Rain
By Artichokie
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He is late, she thought impatiently as she stared out of the window. Rain water ran down the glass in rivulets, disorienting the world beyond. Although normally on its way to becoming dark, the thick clouds rolling above obscured the sun and made it appear darker than it actually was. This did nothing to assuage Lily's worries.
Married barely a month, Lily was still unused to the idea of James Potter being hers. Hers to love, hers to cherish, hers to… fret over—and the latter he was excellent at, making the two former harder to commit to. It was nights like this when she wished she didn't care so much. She knew he was fine, knew that he was capable of taking care of himself. Accidents happen, though. Expect the unexpected—isn't that what they always taught you? Somewhere in the rain, her husband was out seeking trouble like the mischievous boy he'd always been.
She unconsciously picked at the red fingernail polish adorning her nails, her nerves making her antsy. Her foot tapped impatiently against the leg of the table in time with her fingers, creating a soothing rhythm to Lily's anxiety. She wasn't sure how much more of this waiting she could take.
Her eyes swung to the corner of the room. Perched against the wall sat a yellow umbrella saved for days just like this. She couldn't count how many times she'd thought about grabbing the thing and rushing outside in the storm. She needed a distraction; she had neighbors who both loved her and would understand her plight. Most were older couples who had offspring in their university years, but they still made for stimulating company. At least they would keep her mind off of her husband; at least they would stop her from running down the street and causing a scene she would regret later. At least they could stop her should she finally give in and run after her wayward husband.
The crash of thunder above her head reminded her of the reasons why she'd decided to not venture outside. Her luck—and she had the worst of it—would make her end up a burnt log in the street, and that was only after being outside underneath an umbrella for a mere thirty seconds. He would be home any minute, she kept telling herself. That's what his letter had said.
The note had been delivered via owl two hours before, just prior to the storm's arrival. (The timing of it all had made Lily's heart race; she'd always believed in bad omens, and this storm definitely was not a good one.) The note had been hastily jotted down as if there had been little time to spare for any thoughts of his little wife sitting at home, dry and safe. She'd crumpled the piece of paper and tossed it roughly against the table. It had bounced once before coming to land quietly next to a vase of roses resting in the center of the round table.
He'd said in the note that he'd be no more than an hour and a half late. Ninety minutes. Well, it had certainly been longer than ninety minutes; she'd counted the minutes to that point, and then immediately lost count, half-expecting him to show up on their doorstep. He hadn't, and that added to Lily's impatience. Where is he?
In a fit of nerves, Lily jumped to her feet, shoving the chair she'd been resting in backwards. It slid across the floor until it hit the far wall, knocking into the grandfather clock James's father had once owned. She ignored the commotion behind her, however, her attention focused on the crumpled parchment before her. Reaching out, she swiped her hand across the table, knocking the paper and vase off of the table. The glass crashed against the hardwood floors, soaking them with water and shards of glass. The bouquet of roses landed in one heap, some of the dried petals and leaves breaking off of their stems.
She stared at the aftermath, shocked at her own reaction. She hadn't meant to do that, but she couldn't control her nerves anymore. Why was she so worried? Nothing akin to a travesty had occurred recently; it was as if the Dark Lord was on a vacation himself, escaping the sweltering English heat of mid-summer for a much cooler climate elsewhere. The Order of the Phoenix safe house had been abuzz with speculation and impatience since his disappearance. Every nerve was stretched thin, and Lily's nerves weren't exempt. Her outburst, she knew, stemmed from more than just her husband's tardiness.
The door leading into the kitchen burst open, sending in a wall of rain from outside. Lily jumped, her hand coming to cover her chest, as her eyes flew to the entryway. In a cloud of water, James Potter stumbled in and quickly slammed the door behind him. His normally unruly black hair was glued to the side of his face as water streamed down his cheeks. He shook his head, sending water flying throughout the room; Lily would insist he clean the kitchen once her heart stopped racing.
"Lils, I'm home," he called out, taking his glasses off of his face. He ran the damp edge of his cloak over his eyes, and then he began rubbing the lenses with the fabric. She'd never been so happy to see him.
Finally able to find her voice, she told him flatly, "So I see." Something in her tone must have alerted him to her distress for he immediately froze and placed his glasses on the bridge of his nose. He turned his head in her direction, squinting. Spots of water still dotted his lenses, but she knew his vision was no longer obscured.
"Lils? Why is it so dark in here?" He rushed over to a candle and immediately lit it with the tip of his wand. "Did someone die?"
"You're late," she informed him in the same tone.
"I sent word over that I would be," he argued, shrugging off his sopping outerwear. "You got my letter, right? It should've arrived about two hours ago."
"You said you'd be, at most, ninety minutes." Her eyes didn't move from his face, didn't blink. "You're late."
"Oh, now's not the time for irrationality—" He stopped abruptly as his eyes came to rest on the mess she'd made moments before his grand entrance. Lily felt the heat touch her cheeks as she now regretted her outburst. "What the bloody hell happened?"
"I… well," she said quietly, unable how to explain. She looked to the window, thinking to blame it on a gust of wind. However, none of the windows were shattered, and the vase had fallen towards the window as oppose to away. Unfortunately.
James put his hands up in surrender. "Never mind, I don't want to know." He turned his back on the mess and walked over to the ice box. I'm sorry I'm later than I said I'd be, but you know how things can happen at an instant's notice." He grabbed the jar of milk out of the cooled box and closed the lid. "Truth be told, I thought I'd be done earlier. But…" He grabbed a glass out of the cupboard and poured a glass. Setting the jar of milk on the counter, he turned back to her. "…things got a bit chaotic. You-Know-Who made his presence known yet again in an outer suburb of London." He took a drink, and then dropped the glass from his mouth. His eyes stared into the white liquid. "Mackey won't be available for a few weeks as it was his family whom were attacked."
"I'm sorry to hear about Mackey's family." And she truly was. She wasn't close with the guy, but no one deserved to have their family ripped apart like that. She'd offer the guy more sympathy if she hadn't been thinking about the same circumstances destroying her newly found happiness in the hours that James had been late. She crossed her arms across her chest as she took a step forward. "Damn it, James, I was worried! What happened to Mackey… what if that had happened to us? Don't you think I have a right to be upset with you?"
"Lils…" he trailed off, a sympathetic note in his voice. He set the glass of milk on the counter behind him and walked over to her. Immediately, his arms were around her, holding her close. Tears sprang to her eyes as all of her emotions came running to the front of her consciousness. It felt so good to touch him, to be held by him!
His lips came to rest against her forehead, giving her a kiss of comfort. Hidden deep behind his façade of aloofness was a affectionate, caring man. It had taken him years to show that side of himself to her, but she was grateful he finally did—and she never intended to let that side shy away. His chin came to rest on the top of her head as he continued to hold her. She unfurled her arms and wrapped them around his chest, dampness seeping into her clothes. She ignored it.
"I love you, Lils," he said quietly, sincerely. "No matter what happens, I'll always love you."
Pressing her face into his chest, she whispered, "I love you, too, James."