Disclaimer: I don't own anything Harry Potter.

Final Embrace

She fell asleep by the door. Her shaking hands drove her fingers through her disheveled hair as she held either side of her head. She gripped tighter until, suddenly, she slammed her fists into the ground. She just couldn't do it. Tears leaked out the side of her eyes while she stared at what was left of the ceiling; her home.

The sun was shining through the cracks and entire sections of the destroyed roof; only the room behind her was able to keep him safe. Her family was gone. All she could focus on was the world coming down around her.

James I don't know what to do.

Her fists again began slamming into the once smooth wood flooring. It was now splintered and broken. She noticed dimly that her hands began to bleed slightly as she heard small noises from behind her from the other side of the door. A new wave of tears racked her frame. There were other cuts littering her body along with bruises and broken bones, but nothing hurt more than those small noises.

She thought about leaving, just leaving everything as if nothing had happened. In fact she already had, but she had come back just before sunrise, for him. Barely in control of her actions, with her veins pumped with adrenaline and her mined bursting with indecision and fear, she had thrown him down the flight of stairs, into the cellar, and out of the sunlight. She knew that probably made her a bad mother, because a good mother would have let it die.

The noise stopped as the sun's rays strengthened and it became morning. Dust particles flew through the air as the creaking of wood split the silence. Using the door knob as leverage, she pulled herself up slightly wincing as pain registered in her stiff legs.

She kept her hands on the handle and after a moment of hesitation, she gripped its smooth surface tight enough to turn her knuckles white and turned it firmly. The door swung inward slowly and as light creped down the steps, so did she. With the same grip she had on the handle, she gripped the railing, and as she descended she breathed in the moist earthy air with its musty scent. Reaching the bottom, she paused again and began to search.

Using the light that ended at the stairs, she moved as is searching for something without the wish of actually finding it, and as the small noises was what had bothered her before, the now lack of them made her uneasiness grow. It wasn't until she reached the darkest corner, that she found it, andwhile she couldn't see well in this light, see knows what she would have seen. She nearly reached out, but stopped when she reminded herself that that wasn't her son.

It wasn't her son. Her son smiled when she kissed his nose or waddled on his feet chasing his father across the living room. This thing was dead, like her parents dead, and like her husband. She began crying again, just standing there in front of its prone form lying on the floor unbreathing and still. She gave in as she touched its hair that would be dark brown like her son's, and slid her fingers over his eyes that would be green like her own. His face was no longer warm. Her hands continued seeing what her eyes could not until she touched upon two puncture holes on the side of his tiny legs and, her heart thundering, she pulled away.

Her son was dead. More tears slipped from the corners of her eyes.

It was then she noticed a hunched figure in the door way. Her face contorting in horror as it reached out and slammed the door shut. She screamed as she ran as fast as she could through the darkness and up the stairs in her broken body.

"PLEASE NO!" She yelled as she pounded on the door. She paused only for a moment to stick her ear by the door slamming her hands on opposite sides of the door frame.

"I KNOW YOUR THERE! LET ME OUT! YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT'S DOWN HERE! LET ME OUT!" She screamed as her voice grew nearly hysterical, fist once again pounding on the door. "COWARD, YOU'D RATHER TRAP ME IN THIS ROOM THAN FACE ME!?"

"Coward am I, Lily?" Said the smooth voice from the other side of the door; the voice of one of the men who had killed her family. "It is you that is afraid of your own son."

"THAT THING ISN'T MY SON! MY SON IS DEAD!"

"Not quite true." He stated once she had to take a breath. "He's just … not living." She could hear the smile in his voice.
"And when the sun goes down," he continued with his smile growing wider "neither will you."

Nobody: No beta .... Thanks fur readin'