can your knees give out from praying so hard?
(can you die from a broken heart?)
The door creaks open quietly, and she steps carefully into the hallway, movements stilted.
"Lils?"
He's hesitant calling her name—as if he can't really believe it's a possibility.
(She hasn't left their room since coming home from the hospital.)
He's spent hours sitting against the locked bathroom door, pleading with her to talk to him, to lean on him, to let him in.
(She'd stayed so silent they both fell asleep on opposite sides of the door one night, her arms on the cool tile and his cheek imprinted by the carpet.)
She doesn't respond verbally, just pads over to where he's sitting on the couch. Drops down beside him and curls into his body, letting out a deep breath as his arms gently envelop her; the familiar warmth is grounding.
He moves slowly, so, so cautious not to overwhelm her and scare her off.
(It's the first time since it all happened that she hasn't turned from his touch.)
This cottage, their fresh start…every dream they'd had is now just a painful reminder.
The beginnings of a war are really and truly underway, now, and they're soldiers on the frontlines, but she can't bring herself to care.
She wants to apologize for falling apart, for not being everything he deserves; for being so far from the playful girl he'd fallen in love with lately.
He's not even upset with her, of course, because he's the kindest man in the world—every moment of being with James is knowing she is wholly, unequivocally, unfalteringly loved.
(He's always told anyone who'll listen he's the luckiest man in the world, wizard or muggle; that he doesn't know how on earth he managed to trick her into falling in love with him.)
(She's never doubted that she's the lucky one; that the privilege of Jamie's love is the greatest gift in the world.)
He doesn't want her apology, she knows it—she's tried, half-asleep mumblings through tears, that she only gets out the first words of before he's chiding her and reminding her of their vows, that he loves her, that nothing else in the world matters.
But all he's ever wanted is her love, since they were kids—he's only ever begged for her to let him shoulder burdens alongside her, to not go through it all alone.
(It's flashbacks to their Heads' dorm seventh year, his earnest pleas on their couch for her to sleep and eat and let him handle some of the heavy.)
He deserves it—vulnerability, the shared grief. So she—tries.
"I—" Her voice comes out in a whisper, already so close to breaking. "I don't know how to be me. How to pretend that anything even matters when—" she breaks off, squeezing her eyes tightly shut.
James strokes the chaotic mess that is her hair. "I know. It's killing me." He pulls her legs over his lap to hold her closer. "But you're still you."
"No, not when bean is—" Lily swallows thickly. "How can I be me when the biggest piece of my heart is gone?"
He doesn't attempt to come up with an answer, not when nothing could be sufficient. Just pulls the arm around her waist tighter.
(She snuggles into his chest, poking at his arm until he squeezes even tighter, hoping if they're pressed close enough it'll hold their broken pieces together.)
"Tell me what you're thinking."
Lily sighs, the breath puffing against his skin.
(Opening up has always been hard for her—let alone when her thoughts are this dark.)
"It—it's our loss. And I know this hell is so much better with you in it. But…it's different, for me. It's my loss, too; knowing she only ever lived in my body, being—being in so much pain, and knowing all of it is her leaving, and there's nothing I could do—"
The tears pour down her face; par for the course, as she's cried every day since it happened. James doesn't try to brush them away, just rubs circles on her back and waits for her to continue.
"I know it was an accident, and the timing was awful. I know she wasn't here yet. I know we didn't even know for sure she was a she. And scientifically she wasn't even alive yet. But—" her voice breaks, knuckles white with how hard her nails are pressing into her palms. "But she was mine, and she was a part of me, and I can't look at my body and not think of how she's supposed to be there. She was tangible, for me, and I was supposed to have her in my arms and I never will and it hurts. And she was only here for a little while, but—for the rest of my life, every decision we make, I'll always imagine how it would've been different if she were here."
She's crying enough now that her whole face is flushed, sniffling between words, unable to care about how awful she looks because how can it matter. Nothing matters.
(And even if it did, James is the one person she trusts to see every version of her and never waver.)
"I know there's a war on, and we've already lost—Mary, and—and your father, and—so many people. And so many will be lost in the next few years. Who knows if we'll even—"
"Please don't talk like that," he whispers, eyes clenching shut at the thought. "I know—the reality of what our work with the Order means. But I can't bear the thought of you—" he breathes deeply.
"Sorry. I'm sorry. I just—" Lily swallows heavily, staring off into the distance. "It felt like I was dying, Jamie. I was so desperate to get to St. Mungo's, and I had my hand over my mouth to physically stop myself from screaming. It hurt so much, but I would've taken the pain ten times over if it meant bean were okay. And I couldn't. I was supposed to be her mother, her protector, and she's just…gone, and it hurts."
"I'm sorry, Lils," he whispers, choked up. "I'm so sorry. I don't know why—why life has to be this way. Love shouldn't hurt this much."
She reaches to move the arm around her, pulling it to her chest, where she interlocks their fingers and presses her lips to his knuckles, leaning back against the arm of the faded scarlet couch.
His eyes catch on her knees just then, brows drawing together in concern as the hand not in hers moves to gently trace around the badly bruised skin. "What the hell happened to you? Baby, did you fall and not tell me?"
She closes her eyes, lips curling inward as she bites down on them. "No, I—I just…I've been praying so hard for a miracle. For…everything to stop hurting so much."
(Just begging and pleading and praying on her knees until they gave out.)
James hums in understanding, returning to stroking her hair.
"A mother loves their child forever," she says softly. "I was supposed to love her forever, to take care of her forever. Instead I'll miss her forever, grieve what might've been forever."
She curls in on herself, knees pulling up some over Jamie's lap, and he swipes a finger along the side of her face until she meets his eyes.
"We'll never forget bean," he promises.
(Taps the ring on her finger, the reminder of all the promises he's ever made her and always followed through on.)
"It sucks. This…is one of the most horrible things that's ever happened to us—maybe the worst thing we've ever gone through. But we'll get through it, somehow. We'll remember her, and we'll do her proud by living. By stopping him—ending him, everything to do with it all."
Lily takes a deep breath. She feels guilty for making James comfort her, for pouring out the pain her atoms are made of right now and making it his burden too when he has his own to carry.
(But she knows he wants her to—wants to respect that he's begged her to let him be there for her.)
Sharing her pain isn't something she ever did, before James.
(She's trying.)
He watches her, jaw tight, and eyes still full of agony. "Say it, baby. You won't feel better until you do."
"But it's awful. It's a terrible thought."
"Doesn't matter, Lils. It's just you and me. You can say it."
She twists her torso, arms snaking behind his back to pull herself tight to his chest again. "What—what is even the point of living in a world with magic if it can't help with things that actually matter?" The words are muffled, slurred by her sobs. "How can anything matter when our baby is dead? How can anything ever matter again?"
Air rushes through his teeth at the d word they've been so, so carefully tiptoeing around. "I don't know, baby. It's…maybe nothing ever does the same way. And maybe that's okay."
He reaches toward the other side of the couch, for the faded oversized throw blanket she bought him their first Christmas together. Lily sighs contentedly as he pulls the blanket around both of them, the feel of the familiar fabric's cocoon and Jamie's limbs protectively caging her in soothing something heavy in her chest.
"We'll miss her together, think of her together. Try again together when we feel okay to—or not, if you'd rather. We'll get through it all somehow. You and me against the world, yeah?"
"Always," she says instinctively—it's not even a question.
(It's the most painful thing in the world, but she knows they can get through it together.)
And they're not done grieving, of course—maybe they'll feel better, some semblance of okay, and months from now see a family friend with their newborn and feel like they've been gutted.
(But they'll get back up again. Do bean proud. Not let the pain of losing her mean they lose themselves, too.)
(Fight against the darkness in the world that much harder, pouring themselves into making it a better one for their children to be born into.)
"I love you," she whispers, the words blurring together.
(A promise.)
He nods, knowing she doesn't want to hear it back—she just genuinely wants to make sure he hasn't mistaken her grief, hasn't misunderstood her lashing out at the world for not caring about him.
"I know," he promises in reply.
She lets the strum of his finger lull her to sleep.
A/N:
may write a pt II where they find out about harry/he's born, if y'all would like that!
thank you for reading!