To Die By Your Side
or
Diptych
IV.
i.
..Oh there is a light and it never goes out…
Severus sobered immediately, rose from the bench with a wounded roar and Disapparated on the spot, to the shrieks of the staff and Regulus shouting "No, no, that's not what I meant! You can't—!"
ii.
…There is a light and it never goes out…
James' head snapped up to the door but he knew already who it was. What would happen. How it would end. How long it would take.
They had seconds, didn't they?
iii.
…There is a light and it never goes out…
He stumbled as he hit ground again, vaguely aware that he has splinched his arm in travel.
iv.
…There is a light and it never goes out….
Fuck, fuck, fuck. If he was here, Voldemort here, what had happened to Peter? Tortured, surely, or blackmailed. He knew they should have set up better defenses around Mrs. Pettigrew.
v.
…There is a light and it never goes out…
There were screams down the road, people shouting "Fire! Fire!" Severus turned on his heel and snapped closer, leaving part of himself behind again probably. Turns out he couldn't Apparate While Impaired like he thought he could.
He wasn't thinking of alcohol.
vi.
…There is a light and it never goes out…
"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!"
She careened up the stairs before the thing could get her and James could only hope she would find to her wand in time. Where was his?
Fuck! No! On the sofa, and he was already in the hall.
vii.
…There is a light and it never goes out…
Severus was just in front of it, the burning house, and he was definitely splinched but it didn't matter if he was missing a shoulder because he was certainly missing his heart.
("Spare her my lord, just her.")
Shaking so violently he tripped up the stairs twice, he sprinted into the betrayed little house.
viii.
…There is a light and it never goes out…
Voldemort wasn't even so much of a man standing there, but a cloud hovering and roiling.
"Please?"
"I'll give you anything?"
"Why?"
"He's a baby and she's perfect, please…"
But he didn't say any of it; he didn't have the time.
He only heard the black cloud laugh and say the words, the two words. Only heard her upstairs, screaming and crying for him.
ix.
…There is a light and it never goes out…
James Potter's body was crumpled in the hall, but Severus never even looked down at it.
("Spare her, please.")
He would hear her crying though, of course crying, if she were alive. Why couldn't he hear crying?
He was crashing up the stairs, speaking her name with trembling lips, and the house was on fire, fire. Where was the Dark Lord? No it didn't matter.
"Lily? Lily?"
Sobs. There they were. Unmistakable, crying. She lived! she lived! and never mind that it didn't sound like her, for she lived!
He found the top of the stairs and here was the source of the fire, the child's room. White elephant wall paper was all he could see from the landing.
"Lily?"
x.
…There is a light in your eyes and it never goes out…
Time lurched into slow motion, like a speeding train hitting the emergency brakes and pulling hard against the repression.
There was green light at the tip of the wand and James' clarity was perfect.
Peter. Peter, I'm sorry we did this to you.
The light formed a starburst pattern as it spread outward and forward
Remus. Remus would throw up when he found out.
Tendrils swirled from the grouping, reaching, like colored smoke.
Sirius. Blimey, and I thought you were alright.
Did he feel hot, or cold? Did curses give off temperatures?
Harry. "Dah!" and a cheek against his knee. So so beautiful.
He could hear it, a roaring, so very close.
Lily. The feel of her lips, the squint of her eyes, the way she twirled in his arms at their wedding. He would not die with her, but they had lived.
And then he was engulfed.
xi.
…There is a light in your eyes and it never goes out…
He couldn't tell if he was dead, or dying, or perhaps just very very alive. Something that hovered on the cusp in between then, a flittery shadow world where death of the soul felt so very present, and the pain of living so very obvious.
The baby, the spawn, the mewling little bag that cost him everything—this was what cried, this was what destroyed him; and it sat in its crib and howled while he moved into the room.
She lay just before the baby bed, fallen in a heap, hair obscuring her face.
("Spare her, I beg of you.") Not unconscious. No, he wouldn't bother with false hope. If Potter's quim yet lived then she had done something to secure that. And it would have destroyed her, nothing else could do it. This knowledge was inherent and obvious, and when he clutched her wrist for pulse it was confirmed.
How long did he hold her, sobbing, screaming over the baby behind them? How long did he drown there beside her, hoping the burning room might just kill him and be done with?
There was noise down below, a motorcycle, a scream, and the Muggles alarms were still going off.
Their time was over, her friends would be here now, those who deserved to hold her, those who had been brave enough to live for her.
One kiss to her brow, one more look into her white face, and he rose to leave.
He Disapparated, his departure covered up by the inferno's cracking and popping around them, and left mother and baby to those who could yet do for them.
At least he did get to die with her.
