A/N: Idek with that title, man. But somehow it fit! /shrugs
It rained today.
Lily woke up with James's arms around her and the sound of downpour, cold sheets about her and warm breaths against the back of her neck. She smiled at Harry sleeping peacefully on his cot nearby. Pink lips slightly open, tufts of jet black hair pointing everywhere, little chubby fingers twitching every now and then. She could watch him sleep all day. He looks so much like James, she thought for the thousandth morning, looks so much like his father.
James kissed her shoulder, stirring. "Good morning, Mrs. Potter," he murmured, and it was nothing, really, but she let out a groggy laugh and scooted closer. Maybe because he was so ridiculous. Maybe because his hair tickled her neck. Or maybe because she couldn't believe how she got to wake up every morning to that husky voice and those perfect, perfect hands. She laughed because she was in love with him—so, so in love with him—and he with her, and he reminded her every day. She sought his hand and brought it to her lips, the gold band cold against her fingers. They watched Harry for a while, silent—Ours, she thought (he did, too), all ours—and the rain didn't stop.
The boys came over around lunch. Sirius grinned and pulled Lily into a hug, he still calls her "Evans", and he's still as annoying as he was fantastic; Remus said hello and held up a few brown paper bags, heading straight to the kitchen to get the food ready; and Peter smiled weakly at James, showed him a new wizarding chess set at the threshold. He looked a bit odd, Peter, like he was worried about something (but then again who wasn't, right?), and James wanted to ask, he really did, but then Lily was handing Harry to Sirius and the kid's laughter echoed down the halls, and Lily was smiling like she hadn't in days. No mission today, it almost felt like Hogwarts again, and the house was alive. So James took the set and smiled back, warm and encouraging. He clapped Peter on the back as he shut the door.
In the afternoon Peter fell asleep on the couch. Sirius ate the ice cream alone (he got them all some despite the rain—don't ask; the weather doesn't have anything to do with what he wants to eat, he says). Remus hummed along with the wireless while James twirled Lily around the kitchen in his atrocious attempt at a waltz. They must have hit the table thrice and the sink at least once. His abysmal production lasted for only about three minutes, thank Merlin, only until Harry yelled at them—or at no one in particular; none of them could really tell—sat on the dining table, Paris the cat beside him and trying to get back his attention and his idly petting hands. But it was too late for Paris, see, because little Harry's eyes were already fixed on the flying scarlet locks of his mother, who had eyes as green and as bright as his, and who pulled away from James to make her way to him, giggling and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear—"You want to dance, too, love?"—but Sirius beat her to it and in no time was dancing with his 'mini-best mate' in his arms.
They had a baking competition after that, and no one won because James sabotaged Lily's cookies and Sirius bribed Remus with chocolate and steaks later this week for his vote. Peter was too exhausted, as it happened, and was still snoring in the living room to settle the scores. He only woke up, in fact, when Harry poked his nose with his father's wand—Sirius and James looked up from their chess game and laughed, Lily hurried to fix Peter's steadily swelling face, and Remus rolled his eyes as he leaned against the stair railing with his cup of tea (but he was watching them all with a fond, almost longing, expression on his face.)
They were a family. Just a family. It was so much easier to deal with everything they were faced with when it rained. The excuse was almost believable; just staying in because of the weather, s'all. Plans had to be cancelled. When it's over, though, they could all go out. No problem. Take Harry to the playground. Shop for toys, fight over which restaurant to get dinner at, get new things for the house. Dates. Gardening. Quidditch… all of that when it stopped raining. Just unfortunate timing, no big deal. Drasted weather. But until then—
Despite Lily's protests and Peter's reluctance, they all found themselves playing in the rain outside, Harry on James's shoulders, Lily holding an umbrella over them (with her wand, for her husband was tall, good Merlin), and the three other marauders drenched wet in the yard, determined to make a show for James's laughing little boy with two Quaffles and mediocre acting skills.
Colors splashed around the boys' squelching shoes. Lily looked up at James and told him she loved him, just because she felt like it. Harry gripped James's hands tight, pausing to watch Daddy bend down to kiss Mummy on the lips—but there was nothing interesting there, so he turned to Sirius and Remus and Peter, watched the ball fly, and laughed at Sirius's plastered down hair.
The sun was setting somewhere. We're alive, Lily thought, over and over (he did, too), we're still here, and the rain didn't stop.