Darkness was setting over the Hogwarts grounds. He knew he had to hurry if he was going to find it before the night completely enveloped the Earth. He had to find it. He just had to.

He jogged down the path that led around the grounds and back to Hogsmeade. What had been almost unusually oppressive day with heat was finally starting to become tolerable. He briefly gazed back at the castle. Though it was looking better than a few months ago, there was still considerable damage to the exterior. He shuttered, thinking back to that final battle. So many lives lost. He still didn't know how on Earth he was standing there. How did he keep surviving while everyone around him continued to fall?

He reached the edge of the woods. He saw Hagrid's hut in the distance. Perhaps he would visit once he completed his mission. There was so much he wanted to say to Hagrid—to thank him for looking out for Harry all those years. He owed him a lot, but that could wait for now. Hagrid would be there. This was a more pressing matter.

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. After another moment, his vision was much lower than it had just been. He pawed his hooves against the fresh dirt. Lowering his now elongated neck, he took a good whiff of the earth. He felt wilder. He was free. He sniffed the ground once more. There wasn't much there to help aid him. Nevertheless, he had to try. And with that, he was off.

The sounds of the forest surrounded him. He could hear the squeaking of mice hiding in the thicket. An owl hooted from a nearby tree. He could hear faint galloping, most likely from a unicorn in the distance. As he trotted along, he listened keenly for signs of anything more sinister. Thankfully, there was nothing thus far. The forest was relatively quiet for once.

He knew the forest better than anyone, a result of his schoolboy days running around with his friends once a month during the full moon. What had started as a way to help Remus cope with his lycanthropy became a way to have many exciting adventures. He shook the fond memories out of his brain. He had a mission to complete.

He continued on, determined to find the spot of which his son had described. It had been a couple of months since had opened up and told James what he saw—who he saw. Once he had known, he had been consumed by it. For months, it had eaten away at him, like a moth to a wool sweater. Soon enough, there was a gaping hole that needed to be filled. This was the only way to reweave his heart.

He reached a grove in the center of the woods. He sniffed the air. This was it. It had to be it. It looked like Harry had described. This was where he son had died for the first time. It had to be.

A second later, a man was standing where the stag once had. He pushed his glasses back up on the bridge. It was eerily quiet. He had thought of sharing this moment with his son or even his best friends, but thought better of it. It had to be him and him alone.

"Accio Resurrection Stone," he said in hopes that would be enough.

He waited. And waited. After several minutes, nothing. Damn. It must have had too much magic to make that spell work. He would have to look for it the hard way.

"Lumos," he muttered and watched as the tip of his wand ignited in an orange glow.

He held his wand above his head, scanning the ground. He marched up and down the grove, scanning one line of dirt at a time. All he could see were leaves and brush. He tried kicking up the earth. Still nothing. After over an hour of searching, he began to doubt himself.

Maybe he was being foolish. It had been such a stretch. He should have known that he was not going to find it. It had been a frivolous dream. He shouldn't have gotten his hopes up like that. He felt like such an idiot.

It was when he had been on the precipice of giving up and heading home when he caught a glimpse of something. He lifted his arm higher and saw light reflecting back at him. His heart leapt in his throat.

He rushed forward, adrenaline pumping in his veins. He scooped up the tiny stone in his hand. It was black and asymmetrical. The stone was cracked in the center. James squinted. There were some discernible lines around the crack. He could feel the magic radiating from it. He inhaled sharply. This was it.

She was calling him. He could feel her pull on him. He closed his eyes and turned the stone over three times. He immediately opened them and watched as the ghostly image of a young woman began to materialize in front of him.

She was not quite transparent, not quite solid. She was neither here nor there, separated from him as though there were a veil between them. Nevertheless, she still looked like when he had last seen her. She hadn't aged a day. She stared at him, her eyes bewildered.

He froze. What could he say? So much time had transpired. What did you say to the love of your life that also happened to be dead? No words could ever express the aching hole that would forever remain until he finally crossed over.

He opened his mouth, letting the first thing that popped into his mind to tumble out.

"All right, Evans?"

"Almost seventeen years and that's the only thing you could come up with?" she said with a wry smile.

"Well I— "

"It's okay, love," she said, her grin growing even larger. "I know it's your weird way of saying 'I love you.'"

"I've missed you so much."

"I know. I've missed you too."

"Why couldn't it have been me instead? It should have been. It's not fair."

"Don't blame yourself," she said, her eyebrows furrowing.

He kept going, paying no attention to her words. It would always be his fault. He had failed her. No one, not even she, could tell him otherwise.

"Why can't I just seem to die? Why must I continue to be tethered to this world?"

Her smile quickly turned into a frown.

"You're not going all suicidal on me, are you?"

"No, of course not," he replied quickly.

He would be lying if he said that he hadn't ever thought about it. He had even gotten down to the details of how he would have done it. It was always Harry that had kept him stable in the end. He couldn't leave his son, especially not after the sacrifice that she had made so they could both live.

Regardless of his living circumstances, he couldn't guarantee that it would have been the means to achieve his ultimate goal. No one knew what it would do to his soul. No one really knew how the rules of magic would work in this case. Doing himself in as a way to get to her could result in becoming a ghost—cursed to be apart from her forever. It wouldn't be worth the risk. He'd much rather suffer for a few more decades than all of eternity.

"Good," she said. "You have so much more to live for."

"Do I, though?" The words had escaped before he could stop them. Even though he had his son and friends, life always felt empty without her.

"Do you not think so?"

He said nothing, casting his eyes down at the ground. How could he admit that to her? He knew that she would want him to be happy or at least as happy as he could be given the circumstances. How could he tell her that he was downright miserable without her? If she weren't already dead, the knowledge would have killed her.

"I'm sorry. I never wanted it to be this way. I couldn't let him kill Harry. I just couldn't."

"I know," he replied as he looked at her once more. She was still wearing a frown, and it had only grown deeper. It wasn't her fault. He knew that, but it seemed, like him, no one was going to convince her otherwise.

What he would give to be able to hold her once more in his arms. This wasn't fair. None of it. This should have been a reunion full of joy, not one drenched in sorrow. Why couldn't he be happy? Somehow having her in front of him made him long for her more than ever.

He was forever being reminded of the veil that separated them. Until James left this world, they were doomed to be apart. This was their fate. Unless—

"I know what you're thinking," she said, the smile tugging on the corners of her mouth once more. "You can't take it back with you."

"Why not?" James snapped bitterly. "You could be around for Harry. He really does need his mum you know...and we could be together again…"

"You know that it's not that simple."

James fell to his knees. He gripped the stone tightly. He could feel it cutting into his fingers as the tears that had been threatening to escape his eyes finally began to flow down his cheeks.

"I-It's not fair," he croaked.

"I know, but you know that deep down that you would never truly be happy. I'm not meant for this world anymore. You need to move on and live your life. You're missing out on so much."

"Like what?" He shot back.

"Harry is growing up so fast. Before you know it he's going to get married and have children of his own. You don't want our grandchildren to think that you're just an old grump, do you?"

A chuckle escaped his lips. He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. "No, I supposed not."

"And one other thing," she said, crossing her arms. "I quite like that Ginny girl, so make sure that he doesn't do something stupid to screw it up."

"Of course, love."

"Lastly—"

"What now?"

"Just," she said, inhaling and exhaling deeply before continuing. "If you find someone who makes you happy, don't hesitate to go for it."

"Lily—"

How could she say such a thing? How could he ever replace her? How could she even think like that? His mouth was agape. How could she think that he'd even want anyone else?

"No, I mean it James," she said. There was a fierceness to her expression, a fire in her eyes that he had not experienced in the longest of times. He was immediately transported back to when he was a seventeen-year-old boy vying for her attention. His body quivered.

"You don't have to be alone."

"I know," he replied, fighting back tears once more. "But I'm not alone, not really. I have Harry. Moony and Padfoot are always around too. If you want, I can even get another cat."

A soft laugh escaped her lips, and he would have given anything to be able to grab her by the shoulders and quiet her with his own. But he couldn't, and his heart ached in his chest.

"It's time to go," she said. "I've stayed much too long."

"No."

"I'm sorry, love," she said. "Say hello to Sirius and Remus for me. Tell Harry I love him."

Her ghostly form leaned over. She planted a kiss on his cheek, and James immediately felt like he had been plunged into an ice bath. She pulled away. "I'll see you on the other side."

With that, she disappeared with a puff of smoke. James had dropped the stone. It fell to the ground, the forest too dark to discern where it had gone. It was no use anyway. No matter how much he screamed into the void, she would not come again. He would have to wait until he got to the other side.

He buried his face in his hands, overcome by his grief. It had been something that he hadn't really faced in the almost two decades that she had been gone from his life. In the beginning, he had Harry to distract him. Raising his son kept him busy enough to keep it at bay. It started creeping back when his son started school, but he quickly found a slew of new hobbies and probably spent too much time at his friends' place as a quick replacement. After a few years of this, the second war had started, and fighting the good fight was enough to keep anyone preoccupied. Now with it over, what did he have to keep him going?

Thoughts swarmed around in his head as he began the walk back toward the grounds. He could have headed back in his stag form—to not feel every wave of pain that coursed through him, but for some reason, he didn't want to. He knew that he needed this—to experience this agony. There was no getting out of it anymore.

He would have to live—really live. Lily was right. He couldn't keep holding onto what once was. There would be joy to be found in small moments. Their world was finally at peace. He could relax and enjoy time spent with his son. He wouldn't be a teenager for much longer. He would be there for every mistake he would make in his own relationship. He would be there to give advice. He would be there to tell him what his wife couldn't. He would live for her.

After walking for some time, alone with his thoughts, he had reached the edge of the forest once more. He looked off into the distance at the hut made from stone and thatch. There was smoke billowing out from the top of it. Someone was home. He smiled at it as he headed in that direction. If he was going to live his life, he would start with today.