Every Last Breath
I never once doubted James's love for me.
He pursued me all throughout school: he waited patiently for me to return his affections. Any man who was willing to endure siz years of dislike on my part – who would, after all that time, still be eager to marry me – is not a man of little faith.
I couldn't doubt him one bit. I would put the whole world in his hands and he would hand it back, saying he wasn't strong enough to hold it. That's how good he was: to admit his fears and weaknesses to his wife.
Now he lays on the floor in the front room. He's dead – I know it – because Voldemort is approaching, he's saying step aside, and I feel like part of me has vanished. I've lost him. I won't lose our son, even if it means giving myself up.
Every last breath…
I hope neither of them ever doubts my love.
A/n: See companion pieces, Every Living Breath and Every First Breath on my profile.