DISCLAIMER: I don't own the song or the plot of Harry Potter or the characters. I know - I'm just as broken up about it as you are ;)
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Today her parents are killed. He hears her crying quietly by the fire as he comes in from his rounds.
He's exhausted, it's nearly 2 in the morning, but it's her, and when it comes to her, he can't seem to fucking help himself. So he resigns himself to no sleep that night and sits down next to her.
But he doesn't know what to say.
He opens his mouth thrice, and each time, all that comes out is carbon dioxide.
She suddenly speaks. "My parents died."
"Oh." He says.
There is a long pause.
"I'm sorry. Do you, um, want to talk about it?"
She laughs lightly. "No thanks. You should head on up. I'll be down here for a while."
He doesn't move, because if he did, Remus would maybe probably almost definitely for sure kill him for passing up this opportunity to show her that yes, he is actually capable of being a gentleman.
"It was a car accident." She says, the fire reflecting in her damp green eyes. He murmurs his sympathy even though he has no fucking clue what the hell a car is.
She suddenly breaks down, and without hesitating, he wraps his arms around her, though he braces for the inevitable blow – that doesn't come.
When she only cries harder, he strokes her hair, something he had wanted to do for about 27,573 years but all he can focus on now is her tears.
A century later, her sobs die down to the occasional hiccup and she pulls away, glancing at the dark spot on his Gryffindor red shirt. "Thank you." She takes his hand in her own and he's about to reply but she's a millimeter away from him and he can count every fleck of green in her eyes and every eyelash and every tear and every freckle and now there's nothing between them and her eyes flutter closed and her hand is on his face and his eyes are closed and all he can think is how Sirius will never believe him and now he can't think anymore and all he can feel is her hair slipping between his fingers and he can't breathe he can't feel he can't fucking do anything really except move his lips against hers because that's all that matters and he can feel her pulling away and that's good because he can feel again and he can breathe again and he can think again (though that particular function might be permanently impaired) and he opens his eyes and it's actually Lily Evans in front of him except it's not Lily Evans – it fucking can't be – so he blinks, hard, and inconspicuously pinches his leg but she doesn't go away or transform into who she really must be so he decides to enjoy the moment but he can't, he fucking can't, he needs to know, so he opens his mouth and says, "Go out with me?"
And for one heart-stoppingly long moment she looks at him, and then she smiles and says yes.
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Of course he's coming to the funeral with her, so that Sunday, they Floo to the Leaky Cauldron, then take the Knight Bus to her house. He's dressed in the black Muggle suit that Remus lent him, and – except for his hair – he looks impeccable.
She is wearing a long black dress and her hair is twisted into an elegant bun and she is his girlfriend, his fucking girlfriend, and he still can't fucking believe it and he constantly wonders how he got this lucky, but he doesn't think that all the time, because she's with her all the time, and when he's around her, it's fucking impossible to think.
She's hugging Sirius, who is whispering his condolences into her hair. It's a wonder the two of them have become such fast friends given their history, but he decided he shouldn't be talking because he's dating the girl who vowed she wouldn't go out with him even if he was the last person on Earth – but he's clearly not the last person on Earth, and they're definitely dating.
So.
He grabs her hand and asks if she's ready to go. She breathes in and nods quickly and they head off to Dumbledore's office.
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Her parent are beautiful. Her father was a balding man with red hair and closed eyes. When looking at him, she speaks of his wry sense of humor and calm demeanor with fresh tears in her eyes. He wraps his arms around her as a horsey woman with a walrus of a boyfriend comes by. She gives the strange couple a watery smile, and moves as if to hug the horse, but the horse and her walrus turn pointedly away.
He pulls gently on her hand and they move toward her mother. She has blonde hair and, she tells him, green eyes.
The resemblance is startling. They both have small noses and full lips and round faces. Her personality though, she says, is almost entirely inherited from her father – the obvious exception being her temper.
He knows she has a sister. When he mentions her with an unasked question in his voice, he watches as her eyes turn impulsively to The Horse and her pet Walrus. He raises an eyebrow in her direction and says, "At least we know who got all the good genes. And the good taste," he adds, brushing imaginary dust off of his shoulders and pushing his hair out of his eyes cockily. She smiles and shushes him, blushing, momentarily forgetting the somber occasion.
Then The Horse walks by and the moment is ruined.
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Now they're graduating and he can't fucking believe it because it seems like yesterday that he and Sirius were teasing Snape for the first time - good times, good times.
He looks at the gorgeous woman next to him and wraps his arm around her slender shoulders. "What's up?"
"We're leaving. This is it."
"It's been a good one, hasn't it?"
She looks up at him with tears in her eyes. "It most certainly has."
"One last run to the kitchens?"
"What do you think?
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He holds the tiny, bawling creature in his arms and marvels at the universe.
Him.
A father?
Yes.
A father.
And you know what?
He was going to be the best. Goddamn. Father. Ever.
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He spends his days at the Ministry and his nights on the couch.
It's not that she's mad at him, though. She hasn't yelled at him in weeks. Come to think of it, they haven't had a genuine conversation in weeks.
It's just that there's nothing there anymore.
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He wakes up to Harry slapping his hand against his father's chest, babbling unintelligibly. "Gyurtem yeheshstmgeru deormder dnfhralQHEJSNKJ sdkjd HEHWSZW," the boy seems to be saying. He nods along and picks Harry up.
"Now, where is your mother?" He asks distractedly.
"Eelkjd edoi HOWEnr eejeilnmaqope," Harry responds.
"Ah, I see. In the kitchen you say? What time of the fucking day is it, anyway?" He realizes who he's holding and grins sheepishly. "Don't repeat that or your mum'll murder me with her bare hands. Believe you me, it's going to happen someday. The clock is ticking."
He walks into the kitchen. "Morning, love."
"You mean evening."
"Is it that time already? Time sure flies when you're sleeping, eh, Harry?" He winks at the boy chattering mindlessly in his arms. "So…. What's for dinner?"
"Pasta" is his enlightening answer. He secretly hopes his dinner isn't as cold as that one word.
"Need any help?" He sets Harry down and takes dishes out of the cabinets.
"Don't bother acting like you even fucking care about me anymore."
He freezes, plates suspended in the air. That escalated quickly. "What?"
"You heard me. You're at work all day, 7 days a week, and when you finally come home for a change, you spend the whole day sleeping? When was the last time we had a fucking real conversation? Tell me that."
He laughs. "Don't even try and pull that shit. Do you even know why I spend all the time I do at work? Because the world outside isn't sunshine and fucking rainbows anymore, and I'm trying to make sure when Harry grows up, he doesn't have to keep one hand on his wand and his eyes trained on everyone around him all the time like I do. There's a reason I don't let you guys leave the house anymore, because it's just too fucking dangerous." He emphasizes the last word by dropping the plates onto the table.
She snorts and spoons pasta into their plates.
No one speaks for the rest of the night.
Except Harry.
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The next day he's assigned to a dangerous 3 week long mission.
In a sudden but characteristic stroke of rebellion, he decides not to tell her.
It's not like she would care anyways.
At least, that's what he tells himself as he readjusts the lumpy pillows on the couch.
He sacrifices himself for her and Harry at every turn and she doesn't even recognize, much less appreciate it.
Bloody women.
He just wouldn't tell her about the mission then.
Let's see how she likes that.
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He rises at 3 a.m. to get ready to go. When he's fully packed, he stops in Harry's room to say goodbye.
He rests his hand on the young boy's forehead. Harry's eyes flutter open at the pressure and he gazes at his father.
"Alright down there, Harry?"
Harry's eyes close, a smile on his face, and falls back asleep angelically.
Damn.
He goes to her - their - room and pauses in the doorway, a smile appearing on his face. She's on my side of the bed!
He walks towards her and kneels beside the bed, touching her cheek lightly. His lips rest on her forehead, and she stirs beneath him, murmuring softly. Standing up, he walks out of the room and rests his head on the doorframe.
He heads down to the kitchen and pours himself a bowl of cereal. With one eye on the time - 3:47, he has to be at the Ministry before 4:30 - he quickly eats his "breakfast". Before leaving, he hesitates before caving in to the guilt weighing on his chest: he grabs one of the pieces of parchment and a quill set out by the window where their owl Puddlemere lived, quickly scrawling a note.
"I was assigned on a fairly dangerous mission, so I'll be gone for about three weeks provided all goes to plan. My love to Harry. Don't miss me too much, alright?
Be back soon.
P.S.: Remus won't be going, so please keep in touch with him and let him know if you need anything
P.P.S.: Don't, under any circumstances, leave the house!
P.P.P.S.: I love you, okay? Never forget that.
He grabs his cloak and sticks his Shrunken suitcase in his pocket and leaves.
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The mission doesn't go to plan, but then again, when do they ever?
They finally come home 4 weeks later and in the midst of the hustle and bustle of filling out reports, organizing rescue missions, and treating injuries, there is a sinking feeling in his stomach.
Shit. Remind me again why I didn't tell her?
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He opens the door to the house, which is oddly silent. He puts down his bags and pokes his head into the kitchen. No one is there.
He checks the living room, then heads up the stairs quietly. He enters their bedroom but she's not there and he feels a sense of panic begin to set in. He goes into Harry's nursery and neither of them are there and he can't believe it. They're fucking gone.
Then he hears a soft whimper from the guest bedroom and he immediately throws open the door to that room and there she is in all her glory.
He goes over and shakes her awake, repeating her name.
She doesn't wake up, and he decides to leave her alone and go make some dinner.
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After cooking whatever he could find - it's the thought that counts, right? - he goes and brings Harry down and they eat dinner together, each delighted beyond words to see the other.
She still doesn't wake up, so he settles down on the couch again with Harry in his lap and they fall asleep.
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His senses have been made sharp by his career as a Marauder, and sharper still as an Auror, so when he hears a soft footstep on the stairs, the subtle scent of vanilla shampoo, the scraping of wheels on the floor - he immediately jerks awake. His eyes adjust to the darkness and he can't believe his eyes - though in retrospect, it did seem that they had been building up to this point.
"What are you doing?" He chokes past the lump in his throat.
She whirls around, a picture frame clutched in her hands and a suitcase behind her. "Oh - God - Merlin - I just..."
"Are you... Leaving?" This can't be happening. It's just an extension of the vivid nightmare of his mission he had been having.
But the pressure on his chest and the lump in his throat and the tears in his eyes are all too real and he can't handle it, it's just too fucking much.
"I just - I can't do this anymore, I need to take a break from all this," she gestures around her. "I need to just - go... away... For a little while. Okay? Please understand." Her face is wet with tears.
He can't believe what's going on right now, but he finds it in him to crack one last joke. "As long as you promise you're not running away with Sirius."
She gives him a watery laugh. "Of course, I promise." They look at one another for a minute, then she smiles through her tears and says, "You're amazing."
He sighs, slides the somehow still-asleep Harry onto the couch, and walks toward her. He knows this won't make her stay, but he kisses her anyways.
After a century, they break apart and he rests his forehead on hers. They break apart at Harry's sudden cry, and he realizes - "What about Harry?"
She looks sheepish. "Could you maybe - keep him with you? He does tend to have more fun when he's with you anyways." Her voice cracks and he realizes how hard this is for her. Against his better judgment, he agrees.
"Well." She looks at her suitcase and breathes out.
"This is it then."
And then he watches her leave and stands there for Merlin knows how long, moving only when Harry cries out again. "Mama?" Harry asks his father innocently.
"Oh Harry," he whispers softly, "Mummy's not going to be around for a little while."
They fall asleep, tears glinting on each of their faces.
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The next morning, he wakes up and suddenly remembers everything that fucking happened last night and it hits him with such fucking ferocity that it feels like not only was he punched in the fucking gut, but someone took out his fucking heart, ripped it to fucking shreds, performed the fucking Crutacius on each and every individual fucking piece, and then attempted to fucking sow it back together with a very dull needle.
Fuck.
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Sirius has been sent to find out where he is, because he's certainly not at work.
When he walks into their house, he hears the sound of breaking glass and shouted curse words.
"FUCK!" Smash.
"WHY!" Smash.
"FUCK!" Smash.
"STUPID FUCKING SHIT IS WHAT I AM!" Smash.
Sirius enters the kitchen and curses under his breath. Broken glass is everywhere and and empty bottles of firewhiskey sit on the table.
He grabs the now sobbing man and drags him to the bathroom, dumping him in the shower and turning it on. He leaves the room and when he comes back, he is holding a sleeping Harry in his arms.
He turns off the shower and hands Harry to his father, who looks down at his son and curses again. "I'm a fucking terrible human." Harry opens his eyes and grins at the soaking wet man, who grins back, nudging his small forehead with his nose.
"Where's Lily?" Sirius asks.
His face turns stony and he looks away.
"Oh, Prongs." Sirius pulls his best mate's head onto his knee and rubs his back soothingly, hoping Remus never finds out about this show of distinct unmanliness.
He finally looks up and croaks, "Thanks mate."
"No problem. Nothing you wouldn't do for me."
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1 month, 4 days.
Not back yet.
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3 months, 18 days.
Still nothing.
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6 months, 9 days.
Nope.
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8 months, 13 days.
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1 year.
He hopes she's thinking of him today just as much as he is of her.
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1 year, 6 months, 24 days.
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1 year, 10 months.
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1 year, 11 months, 8 days, 13 hours, 52 minutes, and no one really cares past this point except him.
If he's honest though, they don't care past the number of years.
And if he's feeling particularly brutal that day, he'll admit that no one cares at all.
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2 years, 1 month, 15 days.
He tries moving on, but each "lady friend" he being home gets the Harry Potter Sigh of Disapproval - the 3 year-old is becoming increasingly sassy.
It's so reminiscient of her that is almost reduces him to tears.
Almost, but not quite.
That does seem to be a good sign.
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2 years, 5 months, 7 days.
Against his better judgment, he always sniffs the air for that scent of vanilla, maybe a misplaced photograph.
There's no need to talk about his lack of findings.
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2 years, 6 months, 21 days.
One days he smells it - a scent, oh so familiar, but from so long ago.
His heart quickens.
But it's only Remus.
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2 years, 7 months, 3 days.
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2 years, 7 months, 16 days.
He opens the front door.
"Hello, James."
"Hello, Lily."
fin.
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MY FIRST EVER ACTUAL COMPLETED REAL LIFE FANFICTION.
I MIGHT CRY.
(Except not actually.)
So? What do you think? Okay? Good? Terrible? Never pick up a pencil again?
Let me know by leaving a review!
SOME OTHER STUFF: If you would like to hear the song that was used in the making of this fic, it's Runaways by The Killers.
I would like to acknowledge Niall Yanakovich for her UNBELIEVABLY PRICELESS contribution to this fic. You're amazing. Literally this fic would be NOTHING without you {crown emoji} {smirking emoji} I see you girl. I see you.
SO.
REVIEW.
CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM IS OH SO VERY WELCOME :)
LOOK OUT FOR SOME OTHER STUFF THAT WILL BE COMING OUT...SOMEDAY...!