Run Lily, run.
"Lily!" James groans, his long figure comically draped against the weathered sofa, his hand pressed to his forehead.
The lady in question was upstairs, tending to Harry, like the very responsible parent that she was. Lily gathers her son into her arms, smiling at him momentarily as he gurgles, a small bubble of spit popping at the corner of his chubby face.
She steps out of the nursery, giving her a clear view of her melodramatic husband. She snorts in amusement. James was bored out of his mind, stuck here in Godric's Hollow. He wasn't even allowed to go down to Potter Manor, because as Dumbledore so eloquently put it, it was too dangerous.
As many childish tantrums Lord Potter threw because, it's only a quick fly away, Dumbledore was utterly convinced that the Potter family stay in their humble cottage. He was also on the verge of not letting any of the Marauders in as well, but that was when Lily had to step in. And as a beaming James watched, Lily, using the logic that her spouse so definitely lacked, made sure that their friends had access to their friendly abode.
But clearly, James was still amandant about acting the same age as his son, and was not due to stop anytime soon.
Lily sighs, watching as Harry haphazardly waves a small stag stuffed animal around the air. Her baby was so excited, that in front of his eyes, the head of the stag is ripped off.
Silence.
Two pairs of emerald eyes follow the last journey of the stag, as it slowly tumbles down the stairs, landing midway. A slow tension builds up.
Silence.
And then Harry bursts into tears, large streams of salty water flowing down his chubby cheeks, refusing to stall. The small commotion at the top of the stairs causes James to halt his act and glance up. His eyes crinkle in sympathy, and he bounds up the stairs, and steals the sobbing baby.
Lily smiles, staring up at her husband with an unexpected rush of love. But James pays no notice; his attention is solely on his crying son. He slowly descends yet again, cuddling the young child, with Lily on his tail.
James sits down on the sofa, setting the young Prongslet on the floor. Grabbing his wand he desperately starts creating colorful sparks, each a gory fluorescent color, tickling Harry's damp cheeks at each burst.
Harry quitens.
James sighs in relief.
But then Harry gets up, wobbling unsteadily towards the narrow staircase. When he sees the remains of his very own Prongs toy, his little lip wobbles, before dropping down and letting down an ear-piercing scream of total agony.
Lily glances at her husband, and despite the obvious tragedy in front of her, almost bursts out laughing. James Potter, the great and mighty Auror, looks about ready to bursts into tears of his own, over the ailing predicament of his son.
Scooping her son off the pitiful floor, Lily takes him back to the sofa where James is watching with fearful eyes.
"How about smoke rings, Harry? Would like to see dada make smoke rings?" Lily asks, smiling gently at her son, wiping his tears away with her thumb.
James looks up excitedly.
"Like Quidditch hoops, Prongslet!" he grins, swooping Harry away from Lily.
He swings the boy through the air, plopping him gently down onto the sofa, then bouncing on it right besides him.
James whips out his wand and starts creating billowy rings, in soft pastel shades of color.
Harry smiles.
This time James directs it in Harry's direction, so that it envelops his head.
Harry giggles, bursting out into uncontrollable laughter.
Lily's husband take a moment to beam delightedly up at her, then returning his attention to his tittering son.
Lily can't help but break into a content smile. Despite her house-arrest, her small family were still happy and healthy, and that was all she could ask for.
CRASH.
Lily's stomach jolts, her eyes seeking her husband's. It's all the confirmation she needs.
"Lily, take Harry and go! Its him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!" James frantically jumps up, leaping towards the front door, his discarded wand laying pitifully on the floor.
A split second of reluctance.
But then she hears the cold sound of cloak sweeping against the floor, and she heaves Harry into her arms, fleeing up the stairs. Her toes touch the cold wood floor, until she feels her nails dig into something soft and springy.
With a cry she holds Harry above her, before tumbling to the ground. A shooting pain electrifies her leg, and she glances fearfully back. Definitely broken.
Her son, touch wood, had succumbed to silence, glancing curiously at his mother.
She sees her husband's shadow on the wall, and the chokes back tears as she sees a flash of green reflect.
Harry blubbers, and with a jolt, Lily heaves herself up the final steps, locking the nursery door behind her.
Clutching the last remains of her family close to her chest, Lily drags herself to the polished cabinet, setting Harry down inside of it, then locking herself in as well. Grabbing her son's hand, she feels the fast spinning of the cabinet, and the second it stops, she stumbles out, yanking Harry out with her.
She hears the frustrated scream of Voldemort from the sister cabinet and she snaps.
Lily lets out an unearthly scream and starts slashing at the cabinet with her wound, each strike chopping off a piece of the intricate design.
Bit.
By.
Bit.
Piece.
By.
Piece.
She sobs, sobbing over the death of the love of her life, sobbing over her parents, over Petunia, over Marlene, over Peter, over every fucking mudblood who are being terminated like flies.
She screams at the ravage remains of her bloody life. She screams at anything and everything, ignoring her snapped leg, ignoring her sobbing and frightened son, because James is dead, and he isn't coming back.
And then her screams end up to be small moans of disdain.
"Lily?"