A/N: It's Halloween today, the anniversary of the day James and Lily Potter died. I know I'm supposed to be working on my other story, but I couldn't get this out of my head. So here it is. Their last day.
The first thing Lily was aware of in the morning was being tickled. Laughing, she batted her husband's hands away.
"Get off!" she laughed, still bleary-eyes from sleeping. James laughed too, his deep, rich laugh. Every time he laughed, Lily was reminded of why she married him. She sat up in their bed, rubbing her eyes. Instinctively, she immediately glanced over at Harry, in his cot beside their bed. He was still fast asleep. James followed her gaze.
"His second Halloween," he murmured. Then his hands darted over to Lily and began tickling her all over again. She laughed again, trying - and failing - to stop James' hands from tickling her.
"Get off!" she repeated, although she knew that the amount she was laughing weakened the forcefulness of the words somewhat. "Why'd you pick today to be especially annoying?"
James smirked. "It's Halloween! Trick or Treat, Lily," he chuckled, finally relenting from tickling her.
"I pick Treat," Lily said, firmly.
"I wasn't asking," James replied. "But Treat it is." With that, he leaned over and kissed her once on the mouth. After a moment, Lily gently pushed him away.
"You know what? After a kiss like that I'd rather have the Trick," she teased, pretending to scowl. James pretended to look all offended for a moment, but then when Lily bent over to kiss him again, James couldn't suppress his happiness. They'd been in hiding for so long, what with the War, but there were two things that made him happier than he could remember ever being - one was Harry, his son. The other was the fact that after years of asking, teasing, flirting…he finally had Lily. And together, they had a family.
Lily leaned back, smiling. "Breakfast?" she asked. James grinned. "I'm making it today," he told her.
"Really?" she laughed, sliding out of bed and walking over to her son. "Are you sure? Because I have to be honest, I'm not sure I want to hose down the kitchen again."
James rolled his eyes. "Give me some credit, Lily. I think I can make pancakes."
Lily, who saw that her son had quietly woken up during her exchange with James, gently lifted Harry into her arms. "Pancakes, maybe," she said, smoothing down her son's already messy hair. "But I don't quite understand how you managed to burn porridge!"
James walked over to them, and briefly kissed the top of his son's head. "Let's say it's a kind of don't ask, don't tell thing."
Lily laughed, bouncing Harry on her hip. "Ok, pancakes it is, then," she smiled, pecking James on the cheek. They all went downstair together. James went into the kitchen as Lily set Harry down in his highchair, and slid a chair out from under the table for herself. She sat herself down and amused herself by playing Peek-a-boo with Harry while James attempted to make pancakes. Harry clapped his chubby little hands together in delight at this game, and would have happily played it all morning long if an owl had not suddenly appeared in the window. Startled, Lily got up and opened the window the let the owl in. She unfolded the letter as James set the pancakes down on the table. She recognised the handwriting instantly.
"James, Padfoot sent a letter!" she told him, happily. She saw her husband's face light up with joy. She knew it was hard for him, barely ever leaving the house, cooped up inside - it was for her, too. Some days she wished more than anything that she could just go out and meet some old friends over a butterbeer. But then again, like James, she knew she was hiding for a reason. A reason she was reminded of every time she looked her son. And she also knew that however much James resented being indoors all the time, hidden away, he would never, ever, leave their side for even a second.
James read the letter eagerly, reveling over contact form his best friend. Lily read it over his shoulder as Harry accidentally caused the rug the cat was lying on to slide from underneath it. Watching the minor act of magic gave Lily such a burst of pride and joy in her son - he would be magnificent one day, she knew.
Dear Prongs and Doe,
Used Wormy's owl to send this to you (I don't think he going to mind) so don't worry, your secret's still safe! How's my little godson doing? Already using magic to torment your cat, I bet. That's exactly what Prongs would have done at that age - don't deny it, Prongs, we all know it's true.
Now, I'm afraid I have bad news - it's Dorcas. I just heard that she's been murdered, about a week ago. I'm so sorry to be the one to tell you this. Apparently Voldemort killed her himself. There's going to be a memorial for her tomorrow, but since you can't come - although it would be cool of Prongs to use the cloak again - I thought I'd better let you know. She was so brilliant.
Send my love to the young buck,
Padfoot
They stared in silence at the letter together for a moment. Lily's initial thought was that of annoyance - Sirius always referred to them as if they were a herd of deer! Then it sunk in.
"Oh, no!" she breathed, as tears welled up in her eyes. James pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.
"Ssh," he murmured, stroking the back of her hair.
"Dorcas Meadows," she whispered, tears silently streaming down her face into James' chest. "Why?"
"She was an amazing witch. Absolutely brilliant, like Padfoot said," James told her.
"First Marlene - she was so close to Harry's birthday, she'd have loved to see him turn one - and now Dorcas," Lily murmured. James bent his head into Lily's.
"It just reminds you why we're fighting, doesn't it? To stop him. To bring him down," James whispered into her dark red hair. Lily closed her eyes, just allowing herself another minute or so of privacy, being in James' arms. They stayed, holding each other for they didn't know how long. Then she stepped back and sniffed, when she saw that Harry had somehow gotten himself out of the highchair and was now pulling the cat's tail. James smiled weakly at her, kissing her cheek. Then she quickly scooped Harry up - the cat let out a relieved mew - and strapped him into his highchair again. Then James and Lily settled down for breakfast, dealing with the death of a friend they way they'd been forced to learn to these past months - telling the best stories they could about them. Focusing on their life.
"Do you remember the time she showed up at the Order meeting with a batch of homemade cupcakes?" Lily asked, wiping Harry's chin with his bib.
"The time with the pink icing or the green icing?" James asked.
"The pink ones."
"And the cupcakes were burnt all the way through," James chuckled, flicking his wand so create Harry's favourite puffs of coloured smoke.
"And Dedalus swore they were delicious to save her feelings, and ate four!" Lily smiled fondly.
"Then he quietly threw up in a plant afterwards," James added for good measure. Lily gaped.
"I don't remember that part!" she said in astonishment.
"Oh, yeah, right - that was me," James muttered. Lily laughed, as Harry clapped at his father's latest green puff. James smiled at his son, then proceeded to tell the next story.
"What about the time, at Christmas about two or three years ago, when she turned up at the meeting with a sack full of crackers?" he reminded Lily. She nodded, reminiscently.
"And didn't let us do any work at all until they'd all been pulled," Lily smiled.
"And then we all wore the hats for the rest of the day," James said.
"Didn't Dumbledore wear three?" Lily laughed. James nodded.
"I think he did. But so did you," James pointed out, smirking.
When at long last, around noon, Lily honestly felt as if she wouldn't cry, and she cleared up the plates and got to work on washing them.
"James, have you got a pumpkin for Halloween?" she asked absent-mindedly, as she scrubbed at one of Harry's plastic bowls. It was his favourite, patterned with little golden Snitches.
"Got three," James replied distractedly - Lily glanced over her shoulder and saw he was guiding Harry around the room on his toy broomstick.
"Three?" Lily asked, pleasantly surprised. "What's the occasion?"
"What's not an occasion anymore?" he pointed out, chuckling a bit, but Lily noticed that he was frowning slightly. She had to concede his point.
"Wait, Harry's not carving his own pumpkin, is he?" Lily asked suddenly, realising the danger of little hands and sharp objects. Thankfully James shook his head.
"Nah, I thought he could draw on his," he said. Then James looked up and saw what bowl she was drying. "Hey, can you pass me that bowl?" he asked, grinning. Confused, but grinning back, Lily quickly finished drying the bowl and passed it to James, who set it down on a footstool about two metres away from where Harry was hovering on his toy broomstick. Then he darted over behind his son whilst Lily, amused, leant against a wall and watched to see what her husband would do.
"And...go!" James cried, guiding his son forwards on the broom. Harry zoomed off, and in the blink of an eye had flown over to the footstool and picked up the little bowl - to the apparent annoyance of the cat, who hissed as Harry's chubby little feet flew over it - and was holding it up in the air like a trophy. Lily and James both laughed, and James lifted his son up off the mini broom. Lily went over to join them.
"See? He'll be a fantastic Quidditch player when he's older," James grinned, smiling at his son with all the fatherly pride and love in the world. "He'll be the best and the youngest, I bet."
Lily laughed. "Well, there's the World Cup next year, maybe he can join the England team on his birthday!"
"Hey, you're joking!" James protested, spluttering. "I really think he could!"
"Join the England Quidditch team, you mean?" Lily rolled her eyes.
James laughed. "Nah, the English are an embarrassment. I want him on the Irish team!"
Lily grinned. "Well, keep training him - soon enough I bet he'll be on the Irish team, and then that will be something to be proud of," she said, walking back to the pile of dishes to be washed.
"Ah, the day my son's on the Irish team will be my proudest moment!" she heard James chuckle behind her. Lily smiled too, and returned her attention to the plates and dishes, while James amused himself and Harry by zooming all over the living room.
It wasn't long before Harry started crying. James quickly lifted him off the broom and tentatively sniffed his nappy. He shrugged. "I think he wants to be fed, Lily. Don't worry, I'll do us some lunch," James said, passing Harry over to Lily. Lily smiled, and took Harry into her arms.
"Back in a moment," she said to James, walking away.
"I seen you breast-feed before, Lily, you don't need to leave the room," James grinned, taking a saucepan out from the cupboards.
"I know," Lily shrugged, holding Harry on her hip, "But I want to get a jumper."
"Right, just don't miss lunch," James smirked.
"Yeah, because it's really haute cuisine here, isn't it?" she grinned. James pretended to look offended.
"Watch it!" he pointed a wooden spoon at her in a jokey-threatening way. Lily grinned at him, then headed up the stairs to their room. The real reason she'd left the room had been because she wanted privacy, but of a different sort. While she fed Harry, Lily couldn't help but think about Dorcas. She knew that she and James had done what they needed to, respected and mourned the death, but it didn't seem adequate. Dorcas had been such a loyal friend, such an amazing woman...in other, less frightening times, her death would have been mourned in a larger way, but now there simply wasn't time to be spent on dwelling on the past. They'd all been forced to mature so quickly, since the War began. With friends dying in such quick succession, there was barely time to mourn one person before the next fell. However, looking down at her son, lying in her arms - his hunger now evidently sated - Lily knew, as she always did, that one day it would be worth it. Harry would grow up in a world that would be a better place.
Lily grabbed a jumper then rejoined James in the kitchen. After firmly strapping Harry in his highchair so that he couldn't magic himself out of it, she went over to James' side. He was stirring sauce into the pasta with a strange look on his face. Lily knew what he was thinking about - she'd been thinking about it too.
"How are you?" she asked, sympathetically. James shrugged, trying to carry off his usual air of casualness, however this time it wasn't convincing. "Who were you thinking about?"
"Everyone," James replied. Lily nodded, prompting him to go on. With a sigh, James turned to face her, leaning against the kitchen cupboards. "Well, I was thinking about Dorcas. Then Marlene. Then Gideon and Fabian. My parents and your parents. And it's just a shame Harry's not going to meet them."
Lily paused. "And the new one," she added, smiling. James nodded, and even in this moment of sadness he was unable to stop his face breaking out into a huge grin.
"And the new one," he repeated. Lily smiled up at him.
"I know it's going to be strange, Harry missing out on knowing all these people, but..." she paused, trying to find the right words, "but I think remembering them is more important. Don't you?" she said, looking up at her husband. James nodded. Lily leaned up and kissed him briefly yet tenderly. Then she returned to her son.
"So, is lunch ready?" she asked, changing the subject, patting down her son's scruffy hair.
"Just a second..." James muttered, apparently in deep concentration. Then he turned around with a flourish barely two seconds later, two bowls of pasta in tomato sauce with grated parmesan on top. Although it was simple, Lily couldn't deny that this was one of her favourite dishes, and she told James so. He grinned, and set the bowls down on the table.
"Have you though of any more names yet?" James asked. Lily smirked.
"Petunia?" she offered. The look on James' face was priceless.
"No!" he told her.
"Her son's called Dudley, you know," Lily said. James grinned.
"I remember. Nice name," he said sarcastically. Lily threw a piece of pasta at his face.
"Don't be mean!" she laughed, although she had to agree that Dudley was an unfortunate name, especially combined with his surname. "Still...Dudley Dursley..." she murmured, scowling, causing James to flick a piece of pasta at her. "Hey!" she cried, picking the tomato sauce covered bit of pasta off her arm.
"Don't be mean!" James imitated Lily's voice, causing her - and Harry - to laugh.
"Ok, fine, you've made your point," Lily rolled her eyes, still smiling. "Besides, I thought we already decided on Heather Lily Potter." James smiled - the middle name had been at his request.
"Yeah, but honestly, Lil, I really don't want a son called Heather."
Lily chewed her lip, thinking hard for a minute, ignoring James' poor excuse for a joke. "How about Michael? Or Andrew?" she suggested, finishing her bowl of pasta. James laughed.
"Lily, if his first name was Michael and his middle name was Andrew his initials would be M.A.P," James pointed out. Lily giggled at that.
"At least he'd never get lost," she smirked, picking up hers and James' now empty bowls and putting it away in the sink. "Do you want to carve the pumpkins now?" she asked, pausing their current conversation. James shrugged.
"Why not?" he grinned, as Lily returned to the table levitating three pumpkins in front of her. Lily looked in her pockets. "James, could you fetch my wand for me? she asked.
"Accio Wand," James said simply. The willow wand came zooming out from under a pile a clothes that needed to washed and James caught it in his hand.
"Thanks," she smiled at him, taking her wand and sitting between her husband and son.
"What about Charles? Or Charlie? It's similar to a family name on my side," James said, etching a traditional Halloween pumpkin face onto the orange surface.
"Middle name?" Lily asked, ruminating over which design to do.
"Yeah, how about Andrew Charlie Potter?" James suggested. Lily smiled.
"It sounds right, doesn't it? Andrew Charlie Potter. I don't think the name Michael would have worked, somehow," she said, happily drawing a spiderweb outline onto her pumpkin with her wand.
"Yeah, I hate the name Michael. There was this kid in the neighbourhood where I grew up called Michael. Put me off the name for life, I swear on Merlin's pants," James muttered. Lily looked at her husband indignantly - yet still unable to stop smiling.
"James, your son is still in this room! What if his first proper words turn out to be Merlin's pants?" Lily thought, laughing a little at the thought.
"Then he's learnt well," was all James said. Lily slapped him lightly on the shoulder, laughing. She returned to working on her pumpkin, using her wand to make deeper cuts in the pumpkin's surface.
"James?" she said, about forty-five minutes later, during a rare brief lapse during the conversation. They'd both scooped out their pumpkins by this point, and James was throwing out the insides for them. Lily was just getting some candles down from the cupboards to light inside the pumpkins.
"Yeah?" James asked, looking over his shoulder at her.
"When are you going to write to Severus?" she asked tentatively, although the tone in her voice made it evident that she was attempting to be nonchalant. James came back inside, looking weary.
"You mean about that...thing we wanted him to do?" he asked, his eyes unfathomable. Lily winced at his expression.
"I thought you were ok with him being godfather for the new one. We decided it last week," Lily sighed. "You're still...ok, with it...aren't you?"
James ran a hand through his messy black hair. "Well, I s'pose...but, I mean, you're not even two months along yet, are you? We've got ages to ask him, haven't we?' James muttered, picking Harry up out of his highchair.
Lily rolled her eyes. "So, we've got months to ask Severus to be the godfather, but we've already picked the names? James, I know you're not that keen on him, but...please, try to like him. For me," she said, wrapping an arm around her husband's neck and stroking her son's head with her other hand. James smiled at her.
"Yeah, I'll try, but you were the one who was his friend, and Sniv - Severus," he quickly corrected himself after seeing the expression on his wife's face, "and I were the ones who hated each other. Wouldn't it be better coming from you?"
Lily reach up and kissed him. "It would be better coming from both of us," she told him, when she pulled away. "And, I know we still have months, but I have a feeling we might need months to convince him," she reluctantly added. James' expression showed that he'd thought as much. Lily smiled at him.
"I'm going to take a bath. Can you watch Harry for a bit?" she asked, passing her son over to James. James nodded, and watched Lily's retreating form go up the stairs, her long hair like a warm fire that you might fall asleep next to at Christmas. Then he looked down at his son, sitting happily in his arms. He darted into the kitchen to get Harry's pumpkin and then rooted around under the sofa to dig out some crayons. James set Harry down on the floor with his pumpkin, and showed him how to hold the crayon in his hand. Harry smiled up at him, his mouth only containing about half the teeth he would have. Harry started waving him arm around, scribbling all over the pumpkin in green crayon, but James took his arm gently, and softly, slowly, moved his son's arm around in a small circle. Harry gurgled, and then James moved his tiny arm to sketch two wings on either side of the circle. Then James grabbed another crayon and passed it to Harry.
"Scribble away!" he chuckled, still guiding his son's arm slightly, but Harry laughed his special baby laugh and flicked flecks of gold crayon everywhere he could - but James made sure that he couldn't fling colour too far or too noticeably outside the lines. When Harry decided he'd coloured enough, he crawled over to a book that lay open on the ground, and began jabbing it with his finger. James understood what he wanted. He shuffled over to the book and picked it up. "Which one this time?" he asked. Harry jabbed his finger at the first title. James laughed. "Not again," he said, although really he didn't mind in the slightest. Still grinning, he lifted Harry up in his strong arms and carried him over to the sofa. James seated himself on the worn material, and then sat Harry down on his lap.
"The Wizard and the Hopping Pot," James said, looking down at his son's smiling face. He proceeded to tell the story. When he finished, he looked down at Harry and saw that he'd fallen asleep. James grinned down at him.
"Can you tell me one?" came a voice from the doorway. James looked at and his wife, her hair still dark and wet from her bath, leaning against the doorframe. James' grin stretched even wider at the sight of her.
"Let me guess, The Fountain of Fair Fortune?" he asked, flicking a couple of pages along.
"You know me," Lily smiled, curling up next to James and Harry on the sofa. James read the tale of the three witches and the knight. When he finished, Lily sighed happily.
"That is the nicest one, I think," she whispered, looking down at her son's sleeping body.
"What d'you think so?" James asked, although he knew the answer because he thought it himself.
"These people go on an adventure to get their heart's desires, but find they had it all along, and the fountain doesn't even work in the first place," Lily said, her head lying against her husband's arm.
"It's sort of similar to this Muggle story I knew as a kid."
"What happens in that one? Somehow I doubt there's a magic fountain," James chuckled. Lily smiled too.
"Close, actually. There's a girl who gets somehow transported away from home to a magical place. She goes on the whole adventure, escaping witches and meeting wizards, because she's trying to get home. Then she realises she could have gone home at any time, just by clicking the heels of these ruby slippers she got when she first arrived," Lily told him.
"It sounds like it was written by a wizard under nom de plume," James grinned. Lily laughed. Her eyes fell on the pumpkin Harry had been drawing on earlier.
"What...James!" she sighed, lifting the pumpkin and shifting into a sitting position. She held it up to her face for closer inspection.
"What?" James frowned. Lily rolled her eyes, still grinning though.
"A Snitch," she said, showing the pumpkin to her husband. "You made him draw a Snitch on his pumpkin."
James laughed. "He drew it, I just helped!" Lily laughed.
"I'm going to put them upstairs in the bedroom," Lily surrendered, getting up off the sofa and going into the kitchen to collect the pumpkins she and James had decorated earlier. "Looks like Harry's woken up," she added, as she went back up the stairs. James grinned at the bleary-eyed expression on Harry's face, still sleepy from his nap, but apparently in no danger of crying. He noticed it was getting slightly dark outside, the dark before night, when everything looks blue and grey. James rested his son on the sofa and went to turn on a couple of lights. When he turned back he noticed that Harry was eyeing his toy broomstick again longingly. James chuckled, and lifted Harry off the sofa onto the broom. Harry gurgled happily. As soon as he got going, James was running around after him, guiding him only towards things that were horrible and should never have been made in the first place - like the vase Lily's sister had sent. They both knew that James had deliberately let Harry crash into it, however the also both knew that neither minded. By the end of another half an hour, the only thing that had been broken was James' toe, however fixing it hadn't been a problem.
"Hey James, what d'you want for dinner?" Lily called from the kitchen. James picked up his son and followed her voice.
"What's in the cupboards?" he asked, entering the kitchen.
"Sausages. I thought I might do bangers and mash or toad in the hole, do you mind which?" she asked.
"Bangers and mash, I think, it's easier," James said, bouncing Harry in his arms.
"Sure, would you mind passing me my wand, I think I left it on the table," Lily said distractedly, taking some large potatoes and slicing them into chunks. James nodded and went to the table, sitting Harry down in his high chair while he looked for the wand. James frowned - the wand wasn't on the table. He bent down and scanned the floor below.
"'S'not here, Lily," he announced after a minute of searching. Lily glanced over her shoulder, frowning.
"Really? I could have sworn I left it there. It was definitely there where we were doing the pumpkins..." she said, pounding the potatoes. James' eyes widened.
"Merlin's pants, I think they're in the rubbish bag with the rest of the pumpkin," he groaned, straightening up.
"James..." Lily sighed.
"Don't worry, I'll go and get it," he said. Lily shook her head.
"Don't, I'll just get Batty to bring the bag back in when she comes over for lunch tomorrow. You can't go out, remember, especially after dark," Lily reminded him. James sighed slightly, but she pretended not to notice. She turned around and smiled at him. "Don't worry, really James. Soon enough you can go outside, I bet," she lied. James knew she wasn't telling the truth, but he appreciated the white lie anyway. So he grinned and pecked his wife on the lips, then said, "I'm going to play with Harry for a bit."
They kept up an easy conversation as the sky outside gradually darkened, and the children in costume came out, rattling their bags of sweets. Harry looked up at the window, pressing his face against the glass, watching the small witches, pumpkins and ghosts roaming the streets. He pointed his little fingers at the outside scene. James shook his head.
"Not yet. Someday," he murmured, sitting Harry down on the sofa. Lily watched as little puffs of smoke errupted from James' wand.
"Do you think he'll ever get tired of that game?" she smiled fondly at her family.
"Nah," James grinned, making a little purple puff shoot from his wand, as Lily dolloped the mashed potato onto two plates and prepared a bowl of baby food for Harry. She carried the three meals to the table, then, remembering Harry's bib that she'd put in the wash after breakfast, hurried out of the kitchen to the laundry bin. Rummaging through the piles of dirty clothes, she eventually dug out the bib. She walked to the sitting room to tell the boys that dinner was ready. James was still making puffs of smoke for Harry, who was having what appeared to be an extraordinary amount of fun trying to catch them in his little chubby fists.
"James, dinner's ready," she smiled, opening the door, her long red hair falling in front of her face.
"Great," James said, scooping Harry up and passing him to Lily. He yawned and, stretching, cast his wand aside, throwing it onto the sofa.
Suddenly, there was a loud crack! James and Lily exchanged terrified looks with each other for not a millisecond before James was sprinting into the hall. His expression told Lily everything she needed to know.
"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off -" James yelled, his heart pounding. Lily clutched Harry to her chest to the point of pain, her pulse racing. She sprinted up the stairs as she heard such a laugh that chilled her to the bone. It spoke of nothing but pure evil.
"Avada Kedavra!" cried a voice, that echoed off every wall in the house. There was a thump on the stairs. Lily screamed.
"James! James!" she cried, frozen for a second. He couldn't be, he must have tripped, or be unconscious, he couldn't be...he couldn't...
She ran through the nearest door - the bedroom. Hurriedly, she stacked everything she could, boxes, chairs, anything and everything, against the door, attempting to barricade herself in. She clutched Harry even tighter to her body, her head swimming. It couldn't be now, it wouldn't be now, he was only one year old! One short year he'd known them, this couldn't be it...a year was not enough, one year was too short! She felt as if she would throw up. It was happening, really happening, yet it couldn't be! Voldemort had found them, though, and she knew everything that entailed. A hand instinctively went to her abdomen, trying to shield the new baby from the...monster that had stalked them, like a tiger stalks his prey, like a snake slithers up...and then bites. She could hear his footsteps on the stairs. He was walking so quietly, so calmly...he was an abomination. A murderer. James...
The door to her bedroom banged open, the feeble barricade blasted aside with one tiny flick of his wand. She dropped Harry into his crib, flinging her arms out, trying to shield him. She met Voldemort's glowing red eyes.
"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" she cried, tears springing to her eyes. Voldemort smiled, as if in anticipation of a delightful treat.
"Stand aside, you silly girl...stand aside, now..." he ordered, raising his wand. Lily grabbed the sides of the cot, trying to keep Harry behind her.
"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead -" she begged, pleading with the monster. His eyes seemed to shift, glow darker.
"This is my last warning -" he hissed, his voice not dissimilar to a snake's. A cruel, cold-blooded, unfeeling monster. He killed James...
"Not Harry!" she screamed, "Please...have mercy...have mercy...Not Harry! Not Harry! Please - I'll do anything -" she screamed, pleading with all the heart left inside her. Surely, if she died, then Harry, Harry would be safe, he wouldn't be hurt, and James, she'd be with James...
"Stand aside - stand aside, girl -" Voldemort ordered, mercilessly. Lily shaking her head, clutched the bars of the cot even tighter so that the white of her knuckles showed through her skin. She would not leave. She could not leave. Harry could not die, and James could not be dead...
She felt Harry's warm little hand reach up and touch hers, as if looking for comfort, as she saw Voldemort's lips form the words...
A flash of green light. Harry's warm hand on hers, James' eyes whenever he saw her, them, together as a family...
Gone.