Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Let Go by Frou Frou.
Author's Notes: Wow, first thing I've written in a long while. Eek.
Her Hidden Fear: Oneshot
It's all right,
'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown
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Most people wouldn't think that the patterns on their carpet are an interesting thing.. But she, Lily Evans, willed it to be the most fascinating thing in the world. On the floor, kneeling and bent over, she tried to focus on the pattern of the warm, hot chocolate covered carpeting of her son's nursery. Had that little intricate design always been there?
It happened like this every time. She'd come into the nursery to tuck little Harry into his crib, leaning over the railing and smoothing down his untidy black hair, just like James's, murmuring that she would do anything for him. She would feel her lower lip tremble as she thought about all the things that were occurring: the war, killings, tortures, terrible news swirling around her every day. Sometimes her close friends from Hogwarts were killed; sometimes people she knew were captured by Death Eaters, their dead bodies to be found days later.
It was all so much for a young woman like her to take, and she tried to be strong – she appeared strong to everyone around her. The woman who showed no emotions, who was always bold and stayed positive. But Lily knew in her mind that she wasn't really strong. The war was making her head explode, living in fear every day; scared for herself, James, Harry, and the rest of her friends.
So her lip would tremble, and she'd grab hold of the railing weakly, numbly, only to slip to the floor, Harry at last asleep, and her frail hands tangled in her mess of fiery red hair. Once she reached this point, she couldn't stop the tears as they came – poured down her freckled face.
Most times she would cry silently, pressed against the floor, getting lost in the complicated pattern of the carpeting that kept her sane. But sometimes sobs would bubble up, erupting from her before she could swallow them down. It was times like these that she was thankful James didn't return from work until late; she didn't want him to see her like this, through her carefully placed barrier of emotion.
On this particular night she squeezed her eyes shut, grabbing fistfuls of her hair and gulping for air, sobbing harder than ever. She didn't hear James come home from work, didn't hear him slip into the room, and didn't have time to compose herself.
"Lily," It wasn't a question, and her husband expected no answer as he kneeled beside her, wrapped his arms around her and pulled the small redhead against him.
"I – " She clung to him with one hand looped around his neck, digging her nails into the skin there; the other gripping a fistful of his shirt. "I'm sorry,"
He didn't respond for awhile, busy with lightly rubbing her back. "There's nothing to be sorry for," That was all that was said as he scooped her up, carrying her into the kitchen where he set her on the counter and began making a cup of tea: just the way she liked it.
Lily curled her knees to her chest and closed her eyes, trying to calm herself. This was what she loved about her husband; he didn't question why she was upset, didn't try to force an answer out of her, and he knew how to make her tea just the right way.
James handed her her tea and she took a sip, sighing softly as it warmed her body and cleared her mind with its soothing herbs. After drinking about half she set it down and climbed off the counter, shyly hugging her husband and pressing her face against his chest.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." He picked her up again, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. "Thank you,"
"No. I'm sorry, Lily. Why didn't you tell me?" James kissed her sweetly on the mouth and frowned, his hazel eyes clouded with concern.
But Lily didn't respond. She merely snuggled against him, closing her eyes and falling asleep, feeling safe... for now.
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