Responsibility. James could feel it weighing down on him, churning in his stomach, in a constant struggle with his heart. It tore him down the middle; always pulling in opposite directions. The Order, his friends, his family. The things that he loved, the things that kept him sane. Each of them needed him all the more as conditions in the wizarding world dipped down into astronomical lows.
On missions, his mind floundered with worry. Tormenting itself over the well being of those he had left at home. When he was with Lily and Harry, finally with down time, he was hit with the driving feeling he wasn't doing enough to help Dumbledore. It was a plaguing game of tug-o-war, one that he never won.
James fell back into his chair, his countenance contorted with the afflicting emotions. Lily, sensing his anguish, came over to his side and wrapped her arms around him tenderly. It seemed they had switched roles as his head laid dejectedly onto her shoulder, her holding him in a firm embrace. Usually, it was James doing the comforting. But times had changed, and everyone could use a bit of consoling nowadays.
"I can't win, can I?" He asked, his voice a low rough whisper.
"None of us can," Lily murmured back, "We just need to hold out a little longer. It will get better." Her sentiments were forceful and came out more hollow than she had intended.
"How do we know that? How can we even hope anymore?" Distantly, James felt remorse bite at him. He should be trying to stay strong for Lily. She was no better off, after all.
"Remember what we're fighting for. For Harry, and for muggle-borns like me. To have a life."
He wanted to yell, to kick and scream and ask the heavens why he wasn't allowed the leisure of having a life. Why it was him that must fight. He fought the urge and focused on the positives. He had been granted Lily's love. Undying friendships had been made. He had had seven normal, breezy years at Hogwarts. In every respect, he had lived. Now it was his son's turn.
That moment eased the wariness in his soul. Responsibility still continued on in its war within him. Every second was spent with utmost care. And yet, it felt no longer like a load of bricks upon his shoulders. It was the sturdy weight given to him so that he may help in the effort to push the wizarding world onward, towards the light at the end of the current darkness.
A/N: Yup. Sorry if any of you don't like the angstiness (not a word, I know) of this, but I couldn't help myself. I do enjoy my angst. Plus, this is just how I imagine they might have been feeling. After all, fighting Voldie isn't a walk through a field of daisies. So yeah, I'm done with my rambling and now it is your turn and give me some feedback! Oh, and I wrote this in a bit of a hurry, so if there are some mistakes, please forgive me. Thanks! :D
