He kisses her again, refusing to let either of them talk because that's what he's scared of: words. She lets him for a while, hands resting against his back. His skin is pulled tight across his shoulder blades, making him feel oddly vulnerable.
James Potter is never vulnerable.
She pushes him away eventually, only because she knows that making out isn't going to get them anywhere. "James." She forces his gaze to hers. "You need to talk about this."
He rolls his eyes and heads toward the front door of their cottage, grabbing a jacket on the way. "Forget it, Lily."
"Colloportus," she says calmly. He whirls on her, expression disbelieving. "You are not getting drunk tonight. I don't care if I have to use a Permanent Sticking Charm. Sirius, Remus and Peter will refuse to take you, and you getting drunk alone never turns out well."
"Lily, if you think - "
"I meant it when I said 'for better or for worse' in the vows, James." She fixes him with a level gaze.
"I have every right to do what I want," James spat. "My parents were just murdered for advocating equal rights. Murdered."
She reaches forward and plucks the jacket from his grip, hanging it back up. She then takes his hand and leads him over to their tiny living room, watching his stony face as she forces him to sit down.
Her green eyes are bright and earnest as they look straight at him. There's a long silence in which she brushes hair out of his face and cups his cheek, never letting go of his other hand. "It's okay to cry," she tells him quietly.
And after a while, he does.
