Title: Fireflies

Author: HelplessTurtle

Summary: From the beginnings of Voldemort's rise to power to the end of the Final Battle, characters are introduced to the powerful message of the gift of fireflies. The characters change according to the most recent chapter. Ch.2:Lily&James

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and all the characters, objects, and wonderfully magical ideas in it do not belong to me in any form or fashion.


Author's Notes: This fanfiction has been lurking about in my laptop for quite a few years, and I wrote this before I read OotP (quite a while after the book itself came out, however). Thus, many things may be non-canon or AU. Not OotP, HBP, or DH compliant!


Gusts of wind chased themselves and each other, upsetting the constant flakes of snow on their descent and buffeting the powdery white pieces before settling them gently on sparkling snowdrifts. Thick, fluffy clouds were strewn in patches across the starry midnight sky, playing hide-and-seek with the glowing full moon. Numbing cold seeped past smooth snow banks and into the small crack between a window and its pane. Every now and then, a larger gust would bring a snowflake with it, landing on the wooden sill before melting into the damp wood.

It was here in the common room that a fire still blazed after-hours. Flickering shadows danced with flitting light, waltzing across deep velvet reds, gliding beyond honeyed maples, spinning to a graceful halt on the bronze metals before disappearing into the rich weaves of tapestries. Yet the flames never stopped their waving and crackling, fighting to get their glimpse of the long, fiery strands cascading over the back of a chair faced away from them. Illuminated by its own inner glow, auburn and umber and golden nearly blended with the warmth of the reds and the golds of the room.

Muffled, light thumps interrupted the still atmosphere. Even the crackling fire seemed to still, peering in the direction of a winding staircase in anticipation. Who is it? the winds seemed to whisper, clouding the windows a fragile mist. From the dark corner a figure appeared, the movements dampened by the spells of sleep. Ruffling his dark hair, he blinked a few times, revealing hazel eyes that reflected all of the light in the room. Brushing a few unruly bangs from his view with slender fingers, he stopped to study the scene before him.

A young woman, one arm cradling her head and the other stretched across the table strewn with books and parchments lay dozing. Her thin figure fit limply in the chair, her pale skin in deep contrast with the dark cherry of the wood. Flannel pajamas of white, littered with yellow stars and blue moons, softened her posture against the sharp edges of the desk corners. Upon closer inspection, however, she was neither as soft nor as comfortable as she appeared to be. Her eyelids, fringed with long auburn eyelashes, fluttered rapidly, sweeping her flushed cheeks like kisses bestowed by a wing of a disturbed butterfly. Thin fingers twitched, not unlike a kitten in doubt of retracting its claws. The pads of her fingertips continued smudging a stroke of ink, long dry. The movements were subtle, barely stirring the air around her, but after many long nights of hints and shifts, they couldn't be more apparent to her roommate.

He reached out, gently placing his hand on her tense, quivering shoulder. Shaking her lightly and eliciting no response, he knelt down, more firm with his hand. It only resulted in a small, abrupt cry, and his grip tightened as she began to thrash, her limbs sweeping parchments from the surface to flutter on the carpet. A particularly strong kick sent the chair crashing towards the edge of the table; he dove to catch her form, breaking her fall but unable to keep the sharp corner from cutting her cheek. The last thump of a text hung in the silence, then dissipated.

"Lily…Lily? Are you okay?" The young man struggled to push himself up, trying not to disturb the warm weight on top of him. She nodded, blushing a neat pink that flowered across her delicate features, before rolling off of him in haste. Both stood up, gathering as many parchments and books as they could. Two hands reached for the last item and froze.

"I'll get it."

She stood there shyly, accepting the load of papers and placing them upon the neat stack already there. He looked at her deeply for a moment, hazel melting into emerald melting into hazel. "Was it…a nightmare, again?" His voice was soft, inquiring.

She looked away, nodding. Her bright tresses fell across her face, shadowing her features in an unreadable veil. Leading her to a cozy couch nearby, the young man sat down, allowing her to cuddle up next to him. He watched the fire for a bit, enchanted by the flame's dancing, before returning his gaze to the girl beside him. He frowned at the blood on the side of her face, trickling in small rivulets from a rapidly coloring bruise.

"Does it hurt much?" He searched her eyes, carefully brushing away the crimson droplets with his thumb.

"No, not really. I'm sure it's nothing." She brought up her own hand, feeling the injury where the other's fingers had just left off, hovering several inches away. At the concerned look that crossed his features, she smiled. "James, really." He dropped his hand reluctantly.

"Why are you here? It's late—you should be in bed."

"I was studying and I fell asleep."

A light smile teased the edges of his mouth. "You study too much." She responded with a playful shove, responding quietly.

"That's more than I can say for you! You hardly even study!" The laughter died away as she creased her brow in contemplation. "Why did you come down to the common room?"

"Someone has to check on you."

"No," she protested, "I can take care of myself just fine!"

James didn't answer, giving her an evasive, sideways look. It had become habit for him to come down at the middle of the night and see her asleep at the desk, a book under her head or a quill held loosely in her fingers. More often than not, her sleep wasn't sweet. He tugged her hair, looking at her seriously.

"You're stressing yourself out, Lily. It's not healthy."

She huffed. "Says the one who always leaves a chocolate on my breakfast plate every morning."

"Chocolate is healthy; you're supposed to have a little each day!"

Her look was skeptical, and he had to grin, the edges of his mouth pulling into a wide grin. He drew his arm around her shoulders, letting her reach up and play with the top button of his pajama top. Soon, the threads would come apart and the button would fall off, and then he'd have to get somebody to sew the button on for him. Already, the threads were worn, leaving the plastic circle to teeter and totter at the hollow of his neck.

Both settled down to enjoy the companionable silence. James hadn't realized that he'd been dozing until Lily shifted beside him, pushing away one of the cushions. Something rolled to the floor with a hollow clunk, muffled by the soft rug underfoot.

"What's this?"

James cracked open one eye, refocusing through his glasses. Before him was a glass jar, a bit rough from wear, but intact. The sticky residue of old sticker labels splotched the otherwise smooth glass sides, heavy and thick. On top, there was no metal screw-on cover, but a rough white linen held to the neck of the jar with a green, silky ribbon. He held out his hand, taking the heavy weight and hefting it slightly.

"It's a glass jar."

She gave him an exasperated look, as if the hour was much too late to play such games. "I know that. What's it for?"

James pushed himself up from his partially reclined position against the arm of the sofa, studying the glass jar himself. Although un-faceted, it seemed to cast little crystals of lights around them. "What makes you think I know?"

"This." She wiggled her finger into the tag tied onto the top, holding it open. In black ink, several words were scrawled on in a free, loopy handwriting:

From: JP

To: LE, with love

He groaned, shutting his eyes before opening them again.

"It was supposed to be your Christmas present. You found it too early," he complained.

She spared no time looking abashed or embarrassed. Rather, her eyes shone with delight and happiness, mixed with a flicker of curiosity.

"You were going to give me an old jar?"

He snorted softly, amused. "It isn't any old jar. I was going to put something in it."

The look of curiosity intensified. There was little reason to hide the surprise now, he supposed. Placing the jar on two books lying crookedly on a nearby table with a dull clunk, he pushed himself off the sofa, then held out his hand to help Lily up. She allowed herself to be pulled to a standing position, following him to the window. She shivered a bit at the wind that washed in, experimentally poking at the crack that was letting in the cold. Her finger wandered up to the window, etching little spirals into the frosty layer that blurred the landscape outside. The sound of her fingernail against the glass was a quiet, high-pitched note, floating in the silence.

"Here." James was kneeling down, his head hidden behind one of the stuffier, plumper armchairs. All that was visible for a moment was his scarlet-and-white pinstriped back before he emerged with a handful of something in his palm. He hid it from her, dancing around her outreached hands, until he managed to deposit the objects into the glass jar, with Lily bobbing at his shoulder. The little objects were smooth and black, like volcanic glass, tiny particles of them.

"What—"

"Sssh. Watch." He drew the linen top back on, fitting the ribbon back in place. From his back pocket he pulled out a slim piece of wood, slightly curved and pointed at one end. It hummed and vibrated with magic, merrily alive. The tip of his wand clinked against the interior of the jar. "Tighten the ribbon when I say so."

He murmured something under his breath. "Now!"

As Lily stared at the small spectacle before her, he deftly tied the ribbon into a floppy bow. Then he stood back, joining her a few feet away.

"It's so pretty!"

Inside the jar, the lights sparked and jumped, many little golden and white lights bouncing about. Against the shadowed backdrop of the staircase, the lights shone brightly, weaving patterns that lasted for a few seconds before disappearing into the envelope of darkness. Not wanting to ruin the magic of the moment, James turned his mouth to Lily's ear, whispering.

"They're my enchanted fireflies. Headmaster Dumbledore once told me something about them."

Lily turned her head slightly, watching him. "What did he tell you?"

"He said they were a sign of welcome. Like when people leave candles in their windows for travelers. The light is comforting, isn't it?"

"Yes," she murmured, turning her attention back to the little lights. They gave a few last spits of fire and sparks, then died out. A fine black powder coated the bottom rim, hardly visible in the shadows. He reached over, shaking the jar lightly as he inspected the remains. They made a slight tinkling noise as they sifted, still holding a slight glitter.

"They're done. I can't get them to last longer than a minute."

"It's okay. That was a very beautiful minute." She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. Her voice was slightly muffled, and he could feel her warm breath on his skin. "Thank you."

In return, he wrapped his own arms around her, his fingers entwined in her hair. They stayed like that for a moment, two figures preserved in a rare moment in time.

"What was the welcome for?"

"Hmm?" He was startled at the question.

"You said that Headmaster Dumbledore told you fireflies were a symbol of welcome. What were you welcoming?"

"Nothing," he muttered, suddenly awkward. His arms dropped and he pulled away, his movements like that of a wooden puppet. Red washed his face as he looked down at the edge of a rug, scuffing it with his toes.

"I don't believe you," she persisted.

He gave her a floppy smile, giving in. "You're so stubborn," he teased.

She stepped closer to him, her face almost touching his. For a second, her nose brushed his chin, a strand of her fiery hair swept across his eyebrow. "You haven't told me yet."

For a lone moment, all that could be heard was the crackling of the flames and the soft exhaling of their breaths. Then, in a voice so soft, it almost couldn't be heard, yet so clear it rang like the peals of a church bell:

"Welcome, Lily. Welcome to my heart."


Author's Notes: A very sweet tidbit, and very dear to my heart, too! The imagery and cozy atmosphere make this one of my favorite chapters. I hope you enjoyed it!

The next chapter will feature Lily welcoming her son Harry to the wizarding world, and bringing him back home.