Title: there we go again- into nothing
Summary: And it's that heartrending moment in time when he realized that Harry's gone and she's gone and James doesn't know what else to do. / James is the only one that has survived, because they're dead. It's as simple as that. / AU in which Lily and Harry both die on Octobet 31st. / A drabble.
AN: I'll admit it, but I probably could've written this better and longer. Apologies. I'm trying to unblock my muse and I haven't read the series in a while. Also, I'm tired. (If this is OOC, sorry.) Sorry again.
Are those all of my excuses? Yes. But I hope you somehow enjoy this anyways, despite my complaining.
The Death Eaters Apparated into nothingness like the cowards they are, suddenly fleeing from Godric's Hollow, and James calls out with a victorious whoop: "They're gone, Lils!"
They'd need to move again soon, racing around the world to make sure Harry's safe and Lily's safe and to insure that everything will be fine, but now is a time to celebrate—it was a small triumph in the face of a great battle, but it was still a triumph.
"They're gone, and I was just wondering where we should go next- you've mentioned once that you've always wanted to go to the Caribbean-"
Then he stops. Takes a breath. Hears the silence.
Nothing seems to take a breath. The house is still.
"Lily?" He speaks, but this time tentative and soft. His heart pitters again and again like the flap of a butterfly's wing.
Lily told him about the Butterfly Effect, once, and he wonders how many more beats it would take to make a storm.
There is no noise. The house is quiet.
His heart pitters faster.
"Lily? Harry? Lilly?"
He finds them in the nursery, both quiet, both still. Lily's landed in an awkward position, hair still tumbling down like a red river and he doesn't even need to look in Harry's crib to know that he isn't breathing.
Harry, his boy. His baby boy who was never going to open his eyes again, and Lily, as still as the grave he would carry her to.
Lily. Harry. The two most beautiful people in the world, now gone.
James is still for a moment. Then an hour. Then two.
His mind works with dull fluidity as he sends out his Patronus. He doesn't remember what he said, but the stag flees with the same bounce in its step as it seemed to always carry.
They find him standing, keeping vigil. Numb.
His wand has fallen from his hand.
For now he is quiet, suffocating in the muffling mindset of the shock that they're dead, both of them, and he will never see Harry receive his Hogwarts's letter or ride his first broom or breath the next breath into the next day. He will never see Lily dance or here her laugh or witness the way her eyes glimmered with raw fury whenever she was angry.
Later, he will be angry and confused and screaming at the world, why them? why us? and maybe time will heal all things someday and maybe someday he'll smile again even if it'll be small, but for now-
Nothing seems to touch the light.