Summer Heat

Lily is thankful when the evening finally hits their little cottage, and the searing sun slowly sinks behind the trees that border their quaint little garden. The sun may be gone but it leaves its heat behind, like the lingering smell of perfume on clothes. Like a thick blanket that covers everything, refusing to lift in the stagnant air.

Summers were nearly always warm in Godric's hollow, but this oppressive heat drains her energy and weighs heavy on her body. Almost as heavily as the weight that sits upon her soul.
As necessary as their voluntary incarceration is, it doesn't make her feel any more comfortable than she did before they went into hiding. If anything, not being able to hear the goings on in the rest of the order is putting her even more on edge. As the light slowly fades outside and the heat continues to cling to the too still air like a damp shirt to skin, she longs for the cool breezes of the beach, and to hear the soothing sounds of waves crashing. It's been so long since they were there. Cooling charms only work for so long and opening windows brings in bugs, and the noise of revellers from the green or the pub. Lily looks down on poor restless Harry, still struggling to settle in the merciless warmth, he is not crying yet, but his face is screwed in a grimace and his skin was turning a darker shade of pink. His messy hair, so like his fathers, is plastered to his scalp with sweat, and his little fists are scrunched up tightly.
"It's okay sweetheart." Lily soothes as she picks up her son and he immediately settles into the curve of her neck, reaching for a handful of her long, red hair as a comfort. She flicks her wand in the direction of her old record player, and the soothing melodies of Sam Cooke start to play.
Lily sways in place to the music and it isn't too long before Harry's body is still, his breathing deep, and even in the carefree innocence of childhood. She hopes deep in her bones that he can stay this way forever, her happy little boy. She smiles without looking to the man standing in the door frame watching them; she knows he has been there a while.
He has been almost as restless as their son in this heat, unable to go out and enjoy the weather the way he wants to, missing the freedom of galloping through the fields with his brothers. Sitting in their tiny back garden just wasn't enough for him, he needs the open spaces, to feel free to roam where he wants. She knew this, he knew that she did, but it was another one of those things they wouldn't discuss, there was no point. He is not about to risk everything for a few hours of freedom, and it isn't as if she and Harry could come too.
So here they stay, in this tiny cottage, with tiny windows, taking care of their tiny son. James walked over and wrapped his arms around them, resting his chin on the top of her head, as she allows him to take her weight as he pulls them closer.
"Don't you dare wake him," she admonished, but her voice stays soft and full of warmth for her ever-loving husband. She feels the chuckle deep in his chest.
"You're playing Sam Cooke. I swear Harry loves these songs more than you do."
"They make him sleep. They make me dare to hope." She steps away from him so she can lay their now soundly sleeping son back in his cooler crib, replacing the fistful of her hair with the corner of his blanket.

"What is the world if we don't have hope." He murmurs as he slides an arm back around her waist and gently strokes a finger down Harry's downy cheek with his other. "This little guy fills me with so much joy." She hums softly as he kisses her temple. "But I can't help the feeling that he's so small, so helpless."
"He will be fine." She feels the need to reassure him, to reassure herself, there is a steel in her voice that can't be denied. "We will keep him safe." She turns around in his arm so she can look up at his worried face and kiss his neck. "Let's not think about that now love." Her hands grab the hem of his shirt and lift it over his head. "The baby is sleeping, and I'm in need of some personal attention." He doesn't resist as she relieves him of the fabric and continues to taste his salty skin, combing her fingers up through the soft fuzz on his chest.

"Really?" He murmurs to her as he bends down to kiss her, tilting her head up to access her lips, sliding his hand into hers and walking them out the room. "Well that is definitely something I can help you out with."

Their room is even warmer than the nursery, as it sits on the south side of the cottage, but Lily's silent cooling spell is a welcome relief to her, making James' skin prickle with goosebumps, but it isn't long before heat starts to rise from his body once more, a heat to match her own burning desire for him. To be lost in his arms, in his kisses.

To forget all else and just be them.