Floating
Written by Stop and Go
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"Look at me."
His breathing is shallow and ragged, his death imminent. And in his last few seconds, he sees them. Those eyes that have been haunting him in his sleep forever and the ones he now welcomes with outstretched arms.
Lily.
His head is turning and he is leaving his body behind. The boy below, with her eyes, looks shocked and disgusted and pitiful, so like his mother those years long ago. In that moment, the dead man no longer sees the boy as the son of James Potter, no longer sees the arrogance or the pride he carries. He sees the compassion and the realization and the sympathy he saw in Lily Evans.
Never Potter. Never. Always Evans.
He sees the boy's best friend, the insufferable know-it-all who so reminds him of the girl who once was his best friend long ago; both intelligent, both defiant and both mudbloods. And it was their blood – so dirty, so vile – that ended his friendship with Lily. And his hate for the boy intensified. The boy did not leave his best friend because of petty blood.
Then whose dirty blood is spilling beside my head?
He senses are disappearing and he feels himself lift from his own, broken body. Memories, the most sacred ones that he kept in his pensieve, spilled from his wounds as he told the boy, the one with the eyes, to take them and understand. He hopes the boy will understand, because he never understood anything she did.
His last breath is shallow and short. He floats delicately away from his useless body, floats away toward 'the beyond'. And he swears he can see her floating beside him. He swears he feels her hand in his and he swears he sees her smile.
Lily.
And the last thing he sees are those eyes. Bright and shining with happiness, they are her eyes, lovely and green. They are inviting him to join her as he is whisked away into a pure world where he is hers and she is his.
Forever and ever where he is hers and she is his.
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A/N: Just something that popped into my head late one night. Short and simple. Please review!