Nights: James and Lilly
A certain part of each of them missed it. That this kind of proximity would have led to flushed cheeks, ruffled hair and clothing and shortened breaths, gasps. But that had been outweighed by the reality of their marriage. That neither of them would want anything more than this ultimate comfort. Lily leaning her head against James' shoulder as she read a book held against her knees. The radio playing some soft orchestral piece. James finger twirling, releasing and twirling again in a few locks of her hair. Harry cleaned, fed and asleep. After months of blood, triumph, failure, violence and glory it was nice for just this.
It wasn't to say that their ardor for one another had cooled in anyway. There was already talk of adding a second child to the family. Making Harry the protector of a little brother or sister. But for right now. Everything was as perfect as it could be. Warm fire. Full stomaches. Safety. Safety.
The fear was still there. In the darkest corner they could each find to banish it. That the tranquility would be shattered by the sounds of alarm. Of trust betrayed and death incoming. All it would take would be a word and everything lost. The house seemed to forever be holding its breath. Life as taut as a violin string.
James glanced at the clock. In a few hours it would be November 1st.