Rating: G Character/Pairing: James, Lily, Harry, Voldemort; James/Lily Warnings: Tear ducts are operational. Beware of opening the flood gates.
Image Prompt Used: /wbp5.jpg
A worried mother peered out the draped window carefully, as if fearing that someone might notice her movement. The sky was dark--no darker than any other night, and yet she felt its ominous weight all around her. They had been under the charm for no more than a day, if that, and yet Lily was still paranoid. If anything should happen to go wrong... but she wouldn't think of that. She couldn't. She, James, and little Harry were all safe, protected by their dear friend Peter and the charm that Dumbledore had helped cast.
As she let the curtains fall, James gave her an indulgent smile from the sofa. He wasn't worried in the least, even with the last-minute change in secret keeper. It wasn't that she didn't trust Peter, of course. She trusted their friends with her life, or else she would have never agreed to this course of action. Still, she was a woman of stability, and sudden changes always unsettled her. She would fight through, and never show an ounce of fear, but around James she couldn't help but let it leak through her defenses.
"Come sit down, Lily, you're pacing like a caged tiger." She hadn't even noticed that she'd moved from the window until he brought it to her attention. She glanced up, noticing the stairwell before her. Had she really wandered so thoughtlessly? The sky rumbled ominously overhead, to remind her that she hadn't responded yet, and she shook her head slowly.
"Let me just check on Harry," she murmured as her hand found the railing. She was half way up before she heard his footsteps behind her, ascending more casually than her own quick pace. He was silent as she crossed the hall and slipped into the nursery, leaving the door open behind her so that James could follow her in.
The infant gurgled up at his mother, recognizing her instantly, and Lily smiled. Her tension eased slowly, and she found herself lifting her son from the fleece blankets. Behind her, she could feel his warmth as James approached, and hear the faint sound that meant he was holding back a chuckle. "See," came his husky, soft voice, "nothing to worry about." She cradled Harry gently to her breast, smiling as strong arms encircled her slender waist. The chuckle tickled her ear as he leaned in, peeking over her shoulder to look at their son.
"Looks like someone's hungry." It was true. Harry's chubby fists flailed, as if he were trying to grasp her blouse and uncertain of how. His face had begun to screw up in that look he tended to give minutes before a nice long bawl. She clucked her tongue, turning to escape her husband's grasp, and he let her go easily enough. Though she knew that Harry had eaten recently enough that he didn't need to eat, she was an indulgent mother, and saw no need to make him wait. She knew when to stop him so that he wouldn't eat too often.
The three left the nursery, one followed by two, in relative silence. Harry gurgled once or twice, and made a frustrated noise, but he was quieted when Lily began to sing softly. The words to her song were little more than nonsense, yet even James had heard them enough since their son was born that he could sing along if he liked. He chose not to, on this occasion, and instead went ahead into the living room, moving some cushions around on the sofa so that his wife could sit more comfortably.
It would have proven to be such an uneventful evening, had things continued in this fashion. Harry would have suckled a late meal, and then fallen asleep. Lily and James would have cuddled on the sofa for an hour or two before resigning to bed as well. Perhaps they would have made love, because they were a passionate pair, and James had proven to be quite the doting husband. It would have been blissful, despite the war that raged outside their walls.
We all know that it was not meant to be. As Lily reached the last step, moving slowly so as not to upset young Harry, James heard a sound from outside. They were not expecting visitors. Peter was supposed to go into hiding, and no one else knew where they were. He held up a hand, stopping Lily in her tracks, and drew his wand just as the front door blew from its hinges with a brilliant flash of light.
Before the house was laid to waste by the events of that all-too well-known battle, just after both parents had fallen to Lord Voldemort's spells, the clouds released their weight. It was a brief torrent, and an angry one, which lent a threatening charge to the air around the house. From outside, a third and final flash of green could be seen through the windows, despite the closed curtains. The clouds swirled overhead, their load depleted. As they drifted off, in the aftermath of that backfiring spell, Lily gave her son a final kiss before allowing the winds to take her where they would.