Day 1
We're driving away and the road falls back behind us. We're driving away, and the darkness is so solid that when we look back we feel dizzy, so we don't. We stare forwards, eyes on the road. My hand is on the gearstick, his hand on top of mine, and there is electricity passing between us, and we understand. We don't need to speak. We just need to drive. We're driving away and the world is rushing past us.
The road bends, and we bend with it. There is no one else for miles around, it is just us, and we feel so small. It is a relief.
We drive for hours without stopping, barely even slowing down to turn. And even though I am driving, even though it is my hand alone that is holding the steering wheel, we are in this together, and I can barely tell where I end and he begins. I know exactly what he's thinking, and I know he knows exactly what I am thinking. We are thinking that we can not stop. We are in this together, and even though it's all too fast, and we're too small, and the night is too black, we are not scared.
Finally, we do stop. As I pull the car in along the curb, he pulls me in towards him, and our noses touch. I can feel his breath on my face, and his pulse under my hands. We do not speak, because we know we are doing what we have to, that we hardly have a choice. We know that together we will force our way forward.
We open the car doors, almost in sync, and climb out, the fresh air biting our faces. I turn and look at him, and he is looking down the garden path, at the door. It does not feel like home. I walk around the car to stand beside him, and he puts one arm around my shoulders, and the other on my belly. I breathe in his scent, wrapping my arm around his waist, and we walk towards the house together.
Day 8
It's been a week in our new house, and I still can't bring myself to call it home. James is going stir crazy already, and there is no end in sight. I don't blame him. I'm frustrated too. More than anything, it's killing me that Vernon is finally right about us. We are living like the lazy layabouts he always says we are, and we have no choice in the matter. We are even living almost like muggles. I want to throw things at the wall, or send Vernon a howler, just to let off steam. But I don't. I don't because I know that James needs me. I sometimes think I am the only thing anchoring him to the earth. If I start breaking, we will break together, and there is no one to clean up the pieces. So I stay strong for James, and for our 'little friend'.
Sirius, Remus and Peter visit often. They are our lifelines to the outside. Remus bought us each a Walkman, a muggle music playing device. It is the only object James loves even close to as much as he loves his broomstick, his broomstick that he now keeps locked up under the stairs. Sirius brought me as many potion ingredients as he could get his hands on, and I now spend hours experimenting, mixing and matching. For James, he brought a 'dad-joke book,' so that he could 'practice' for the most important role of his life: as a parenting comedian. Peter always brings coffee and a different cake each time.
Marlene and Mary have come by once too. Marlene brought me a cactus, so I can practice for the most important role of my life: keeping a baby alive. It struck me as unfair that this baby's life and death was in my hands, while James was apparently only responsible for its sense of humour. It also struck me as somewhat rude that Marlene only trusted me with a cactus, a plant that is next to impossible to kill, and which is therefore not very good practice for a real live breathing squalling human infant. But I thanked Marlene for the cactus, which I put on the window sill, and which is still looking perfectly healthy thank you very much.
I am on edge, and James is a bundle of nerves, and we couldn't possible get by without these people who force us to laugh, to get a grip, to stay connected to the world that would kill us.
Day 11
They can see we are brittle. So today, they turn up bearing booze. There's enough to get every resident of Godric's Hollow blind drunk, but we only need enough for five. Remus says he's already hungover, and doesn't want to drink more tonight, but I know he is only holding back out of solidarity with me. I am grateful. James needs to unwind, and I need James to unwind. But before he even pours his first glass of firewhisky, he pulls me into the bathroom and kisses me hard, as though he is trying to meld our skin together. He says maybe we should tell them to leave, it seems wrong, getting drunk when there are people who want our family dead. And I kiss him back, harder, and tell him there is no wrong way to do this. I squeeze his hand, and we walk back out to the living room, where Sirius and Marlene have already gotten a headstart, and Peter is holding out a drink to James, while Mary fiddles with our stereo.
It doesn't take long for the mist to lift. I hadn't even realised our house had been full of fog since we moved in, until our friends appeared to blow it away. We act like young people, like the idiots we still would be, if the war hadn't stripped our youth away. Marlene and Sirius play strip ping-pong on our dining room table, while Remus referees, and Sirius ends up wearing nothing but socks, swearing up and down that he was going easy on Marlene to preserve her dignity. Peter is standing on a chair balanced on our sofa, drawing constellations on the ceiling, very inaccurately. Mary is laughing at him, pointing out his errors, what is that supposed to be? Since when is there a constellation in the shape of a giraffe? He pouts and says it's clearly a dog, it's obviously Canis Major, see, there's Sirius and that's when James pipes up and shouts that Sirius is in the dining room Wormtail, are you sure you haven't had too much already?
And I am smiling. My heart is bursting, because weights have been lifted and I feel so light and my head is spinning, even though I haven't had a drop to drink. That's when I think I may just survive this thing. We may make it through with all these people beside us.
A few hours pass in easy chaos. There are bottles strewn across the floor, a chair has been knocked over, and Peter has already fallen asleep on the sofa. Sirius, Marlene, Mary and James are having a game of never have I ever, and Sirius and James are merciless. Each knows each others' most embarrassing stories, and is using them in shouts of ha! Take a shot! I know you've done that, don't lie! Remus and I are deep in conversation about whether merpeople can drink at all, because they breathe liquid so they therefore can't drink it, but then again they need something to wash down their dinners of grindylow spleens, or whatever they eat.
And then Remus is following Sirius to the bathroom, holding back his hair as he throws up violently, talking to him all the while to keep his mind off the rotating room.
Marlene and Mary link arms, each insisting they are holding up the other, stumbling together to the room that is empty, for now.
I am sitting on the floor, my back against the sofa, James' head in my lap, as he looks blearily up at me. I run my fingers through his hair, rubbing his temples, pulling his hand up to my lips. I stare into his eyes, feeling that if I look anywhere else I will miss something important, and I whisper I love you and he whispers it back. His eyes fill with tears, and I nod, pulling my wand out to conjure us pillows and blankets. I am too tired to try relocate to our bedroom, and I know James is incapable of walking now. I lift his head from my lap, and slide down beside him. We curl into each other, our legs tangled, our foreheads touching, and we slip into sleep together.
Day 12
When I wake up the next morning, I am surrounded by the people I love the most. Most of them feel too sick to worry about the war that continues to rage around us. Remus and I make everyone breakfast and hot, strong coffees.
Around mid afternoon, Mary leaves to see her parents. Marlene and Peter leave soon after, they promised Dumbledore they would help with recruiting tonight. James drags himself back to our bed, where Sirius has been since he finished emptying out his stomach last night. Remus and I sit and talk quietly in the living room. Remus' eyes look dull, now that our getaway night has passed. I know he too is struggling to keep his head above water.
Remus tells me Dumbledore wants him to spy for the Order, to join others of his kind. Sirius loses his mind every time the subject comes up. But Remus feels he can do nothing but agree, Dumbledore has done so much for him, and he is the only man for the job after all. But it is driving a wedge between him and Sirius, who keeps insisting he has a death wish. He sighs, and looks down at his hands. I lean forward to hug him, wrapping my arms around him, my hand gripping the nape of his neck, and he seems to shrink in my arms. We stay like that for a while, and I think Remus is fighting to keep it together. He is always fighting, and I wonder if he knows any other way to live. When we break a part, he smiles at me shakily. I tell him to get his boyfriend out of my bed – they can stay in the spare room. I need to go back to James.
When I climb into bed, James is asleep, sprawled out on his stomach, even though it is five in the afternoon. I lie on my side next to him, resting my head on his arm, and tracing clouds on his back with my finger. After a while, he shivers, and opens his eyes to look at me, and he smiles. I'm sorry about last night, he says. I kiss him, and say, I'm not.