A/N: Another little one shot. Not so sure about this one but here you go :) Enjoy!
REVISED 29/08/2012: Okay people, I'm not sure if you realised this or not because I did not clarify very well, but this one shot is NOT about self harm. I'm re-writing bits so feel free to read again :) Thanks x
James Potter entered his bedroom with a happy smile on his face. He had just come back from an amazing date with his girlfriend, Lily. James chuckled, remembering how she tripped over her own feet at first. She was so cute when she was nervous.
He took of his cloak and put it on his chair, wandering over to his bed.
Crack.
He had stood on a mirror. But not just any mirror. It was his mother's mirror. He picked it up, examining it in his hands. He had watched her use this mirror so many times. He remembered how every morning she would sit at her little table in her room and apply her makeup. The mirror even smelt of her. He tried valiantly to repair it with his wand but it was no use. The magical spells cast on this mirror to make it so beautiful repelled his magic.
He looked down at his bleeding hands, shaking as scarlet red blood trickled down toward his wrists. He threw it and the broken mirror lay not far for him and around them, shards of its glass scattered the floor, glistening in the light like spiked daemons.
He let a sob escape him finally, and after that it was chaos. He was kneeling down in the middle of the room, blood pouring down from his hands, but he kept them still. He did not move them or attempt to wipe the cuts or remove the pieces of glass inside them.
His chest heaved as he let out shuddering sobs, his breath escaping him in gusts of misery. The tears fell freely now falling from his eyes in abundance, running into his hands making fresh tracks in his own blood.
He seemed not to notice, because he tears continued, the sobs only grew louder. He carried on this way for what seemed like an eternity, before someone else joined him in the room.
He was no longer alone. Someone else was there to witness his sobs, his gasps, his tears.
He knew who it was.
Lily Evans. It was always her.
She gave a gasp of fright and hurried over to him. She tilted his head up and looked into his teary eyes. He looked away, ashamed? Maybe.
She quickly banished the broken mirror and the evil shards away with a flick of her wand and then she made her way down to join him on the floor.
She did not talk. She took his hands in her delicate ones and, looking into his eyes, began taking out the pieces of glass, one by one.
She could have used her wand; it would be over in a mere flick of the wrist.
But she chose not to.
Her fingers were delicate as they grazed over his palms, slowly picking out the pieces so that he would not feel the pain.
The sobs had calmed now, a few tears still escaped, but he was transfixed. He was watching her, concentrating, seeing what she may do next.
Once the pieces are gone she summoned up a wet flannel and bowl and slowly started to wipe his hands of the blood. She wiped gently, half concentrating, half looking up at him.
They don't speak. Neither of them had to.
He did not ask her to stop though. He just watched, transfixed.
She summoned some bandages up and wrapped them around his hands tenderly. Once she is done she stood up, holding his hands still, pulling him up with her.
He is a good height taller than her; he towered above her slightly, peering at her through his red-rimmed eyes.
She smiled softly, tucking her hair behind her ears.
He looks like he is about to open her mouth, so she grabs him by the wrist. She pulled him over to his bed and stands, one eyebrow raised, in silent order for him to get in it.
So he humoured her, in he gets. She leaned over in what he thought were efforts to tuck him in. But to his intense surprise, and delight, she was getting into the bed next to him.
She curled up tightly, leaning on his chest. He froze his chest constricting.
So many emotions dwindled through him at that moment. He felt elated, yet shocked. It was pleasant, but odd. A year ago, Lily Evans couldn't fathom the sight of him, but then there she was; in his bed, his girlfriend.
She came to him when he needed help.
She picked shards of tiny glass out of his hands,
And then she comes into his bed for cuddles.
There are only so many things a bloke could handle without his brain popping.
Lily looked up at him thoughtfully, and he was dumbstruck. He didn't care about being confused anymore, he just wanted to savour this moment.
"That mirror," she began her voice surprisingly low, "that was your mothers wasn't it?"
James immediately stiffened. He turned away from her gaze.
"It was," he said gruffly, "You know," he continued clearly, his voice unwavering, "My mother would have loved to meet you,"
He said it not because he had to, but because he knew it was true. His mum had known all about his affections for her; a mother always knows. If his mum could see him now…
Lily nodded shortly and snuggled deeper into him.
After five minutes, or it could have been ten, she got up. To his horror he could see tears running down her face. She blinked back some fresh ones and stared at him, steely-like.
"You know, don't you?" she asked, her voice quavering so much.
James considered her for a moment. Yes, he knew. They both knew. They had known for a while.
So James nodded softy, and grinned a little. Lily's body unstiffened, as if she was almost relieved. He caught her by surprising, cupping her face in his hand and dropping a kiss onto her lips.
The kiss was sweet, soft, surrendering. It was salty, too. It was not a first kiss, but it felt like it should have been.
Lily smiled happily, touching her lips with a shaking hand. James motioned to the place beside him with his hand. So she snuggled back into him again.
They both lay in silence, none of them wanting to break the serene atmosphere.
She needn't have said it; they both knew what she meant.
A/N: Do review, people!