James quietly closed the door behind him as he entered the bedroom. The hands on his watch told him it was around five in the morning. He sighed, slipping off his muddy shoes. His wife lay in bed in front of him, her red hair fanned out on the pillow behind her. She lay on her side, her bare pale shoulders peeking out from under the duvet.
He smiled at the sight, despite the aching cut on his forehead and the steady pain in his muscles. This war was worth it if he got to come home to find Lily Potter in his bed.
All he wanted was to curl up beside her and to feel her warmth in his arms. He slipped his shirt off, wincing as the fresh gash on his side stretched taunt. If he wasn't so tired he'd go wash all of the dried blood off. But he didn't have the strength for that. Instead, he crawled into bed and held his wife.
"James?" she asked, her voice thick with sleep. She rolled over to face him, nose to nose.
"I didn't mean to wake you," he whispered.
"I can hardly sleep in an empty bed." She confessed, her green eyes wide with worry. "Is that blood?"
"Yeah, it's just dried." He reached out and pushed her soft hair from her face. "I'm fine, I promise."
She pulled his wrist to eye level, checking his watch. "I have to head out in an hour, James."
He never saw her anymore. Their different tasks for the Order kept them apart. But every few days they'd find an hour or two, and those little stolen moments were all that kept him going. He pressed his lips to her forehead and wrapped his arms around her, her head was tucked under his chin.
They held each other close, their hearts beating erratically in their chests. This wasn't what he had pictured back in fourth year when he'd imagined being married to Lily, but it was reality.
This was all they had.