A.N: Well, this little thing came to me today during English. It's vaguely drabble-ish. Oh yeah, it's about Lily and James, though their names aren't mentioned.
Tell me what you think!
Disclaimer: I don't own it :(
She would wait for him.
She knew that almost as soon as she realised she loved him. He had done his share of waiting; two and a half years of it, waiting for her to come round, to submit. She could do the same.
She would wait for him. Wait for him through the unpleasantness of it all. Through the bad news, good news, no news. He would get tired of it in time; turn from a boy into a man weary of war, weary of life. And then she would hold him to her and comfort him until they both fell asleep.
He left a week after it was announced. They were nineteen, engaged and full of that spontaneity that all young people have.
We can change the world.
He told her he didn't know when he'd be back, that he wouldn't be allowed to write, that she had to be brave and careful, and that he loved her. She said that she loved him too.
That was three months ago.
Now, all she does is wait. She waits and waits while all around her the world is falling down, and inside of her a life grows bigger and bigger. She wants to marry him when he returns. She wants the happy family. They'll marry secretly, quietly, no dreams of a white wedding – too pure for this monstrous bloodshed.
Rumours grow as the life inside her grows, whispers of prophecies and dangerous propositions.
He returns within the same week. They are married the week after.
And then the running begins.