Screaming, cursing, fighting, death. The sounds of children and aurors and muggles all mingled in the air, along with the faint whisper that tonight would end badly. He heard a terrifyingly familiar scream, and began to run towards the darkened doorway from which it had come. His eyes searched frantically around the room as he entered, looking for a pair of green eyes, a head of brilliant red hair. If anything had happened to her…
Finally he found them, Lily and Peter, staring at a group of dead muggle bodies. A family by the looks of it, now they were only corpses. They were covered in what looked like the ink he used for essays at school. Blood is darkest at night.
Lily was trembling. He put his arms around her in an attempt to warm her, but deep down he knew that she was not shaking because of the temperature. Peter was as pale as a ghost, staring at the mother of the family, with her dark brown hair pulled into a bun so much like his own mother's, her left hand loosely enclosed in her husband's. They sent a notice to whoever it was that would be cleaning up the village later, and left.
James looked over at his girlfriend, she was obviously shaken. The family could so easily have been her own. The deaths of muggles seemed to upset her so much more these days.
By the time they had reached a group of familiar faces, the Death Eaters had left. It was time to go home, to their small flat next to the neighborhood gardens.
The two of them decided to walk home. They were quite a ways away, but neither could find the strength to apparate. As they passed by the quaint shops filled with children's books and high-end jewellry, they didn't talk. There was nothing to say.
Both knew what would happen tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day. Paperwork, trials, and order meetings would fill up the coming week, in order for the Ministry to make sense of all of this.
But really, what was there to make sense of?
In the safety of their home, their bed and each others arms they would talk about the war, talk about the casualties and the survivors. But not outside. Not where it wasn't safe. Granted, Lily knew in her heart that she was always safe with James. Even when they were not together, he was always so protective. Now that they were, it had increased tenfold. Not that she minded. She had always wanted to be an independent woman, someone who could take care of herself and didn't need a man. And while she made that very clear to him, she secretly loved that he ignored her.
Slowly as they walked, they began to talk. Not about anything heavy or upsetting, but about the wedding and which family to spend Christmas morning with. He made jokes about her temper, she ignored him until he kissed her cheek and told her he loved her. They began to heal. Because really, how could they fight this war without each other? It was so clear to both of them that a happy life meant a life spent as man and wife, and if they had to get married in the midst of a war, then… well that was that.
A week later there would be another battle, in another town, with more casualties and less survivors. But they would live, they would come out of it holding hands. Blood may look darkest at night, but in the morning it was back to red, the colour of their house for seven years, the color of the walls in their kitchen, and the color of her hair in the morning sunlight.