Disclaimer: All things you recognize from the seven Harry Potter books belong to J.K. Rowling. I am merely borrowing for my own entertainment and do not earn anything for writing this story.

A/N: Hi, guys, I'm back. This chapter isn't my best, I'm afraid, but you'll have to live with it, as it's the best I can do right now. If I think of something else later, I'll post another chapter. Until then, bear with me!

2021.5.11.

About the Chapter

Genre: Drama

Time at Beginning of Chapter: The day of James Potter's death

Main Characters: James Potter

Tags: Remorseful!James, JamesP/LilyE romantic relationship

James Potter: Harry, Just for the Record . . .

James Potter gazed at his son, watching him sleep, a peaceful expression on his young face. How good was it to be his son, young and innocent and so very peaceful?

The war was all around them, and they were forever reminded of it, even though they were in hiding—for the reason they were in hiding was the war itself . . . or rather, the person this war surrounded, the Dark Lord Voldemort.

It had been Harry's birthday just a couple of days ago. Padfoot hadn't been able to visit, called away by Dumbledore, and neither had Wormtail or Moony, but they had all sent gifts: Padfoot's was a toy broomstick, Harry's favorite, by far; Wormtail's was a small and soft blanket in Harry's favorite color, blue, and Harry now used it as a kind of cuddly toy; and Moony's gift was a dozen children's books, filled with pictures and simple, easy words as well as fun stories, and Lily had just read one to Harry yesterday, much to their little boy's delight.

Harry—sweet, gentle Harry, so like his mother. Even though Harry looked more like him than Lily, James knew that was just the outside as their little boy, not even two, had already proved himself kind and gentle. The boy was always so gentle and kind with their pet cat, and he was very sweet, smiling and babbling at Moony in a clear attempt to cheer the older man up when he seemed down.

James knew he would not have a son to follow in his footsteps as a brash Gryffindor. Harry was likely to be a Gryffindor, yes, but James had the feeling he would be like Lily, unlike him, who had been a little pig-headed, he now admitted, and just a little bit wrong to have bullied Snape.

Of course, less than ten years ago, James thought Snape deserved everything he had gotten from he and Padfoot, and the other students they had jinxed and hexed on occasion were ones he sometimes regretted then.

But not Snape. Snape was the boy who had shown derision for Padfoot and him, when they were on the train; Snape was the boy who had sneered at them for wanting to be in Gryffindor; Snape was the one, of all the students he and Padfoot had jinxed through their years at Hogwarts, who was the most interested in the Dark Arts; Snape was also the only one who had fought back as good as he got, the rest not wishing to pick a fight and going to Pomfrey as soon as possible.

Now things were different. James could feel it, feel the impending doom; James knew, sooner or later, their safety would be compromised, and then Harry would be— No, James refused to think of terrible things happening to his boy, he just couldn't bear to think of it.

The sound of footsteps alerted James to another's presence—his kind, brave, gentle, beautiful wife, Lily's.

A moment later, Lily appeared, brushing a strand of dark red hair from her face, smiling at him, her face pale and worried.

They stared at each other for a long moment, James taking in Lily from her lovely face to her dark red hair to her gently smiling lips to her— James cut off his train of thought, and spoke. "You worry?" he asked, already knowing the answer to his question.

Lily nodded. "I trust Wormy," she said, looking at him sincerely, and James nodded in agreement. "But, I just can't help but feel . . . a bit worried."

James sighed. "Yeah, me too," he confessed, and Lily blinked at him in surprise, green eyes wide.

There was a silence as they stared at each other again, this time not just drinking the other in, but also communicating silently their worries and fears, reaching a somber understanding: the impending doom they both felt wasn't false, it was real and it was coming.

"You know," began James, after a long pause, not really certain he wasn't crazy, "I never did apologize to Snape."

Lily's bright green eyes met his in silent understanding, and she nodded her head. "No," she agreed gently. "You didn't."

James looked at her, sincerity clear in his eyes. "I want to, now," he said.

Lily smiled, a bit sadly. "I always wanted to make up with him, be friends again," she admitted. "But well . . . he joined the Death Eaters, or so the rumors say, and now . . ."

James interrupted her. "I'll write him a letter," he said. "An owl should find him fine." He wasn't sure why he wanted to apologize to his childhood enemy nor why he wanted to now—maybe it was because having lots of spare time made you think about stuff and realizing you were likely going to die some time soon did things to people.

Lily stepped farther into the nursery from her place at the door. "I'm glad," she whispered.

James frowned in confusion. "About what?"

"You wanting to say sorry," replied Lily. "It means a lot to me, even though it's been many years."

James didn't reply to that mention of she and Snape's friendship, from back when they were in Hogwarts—it seemed like ages away now, when it had been less than a decade; instead, he said, "I'm trying to make amends before . . . well, things happen. You know? Snape seems like a good start."

Lily sighed. "I know," she murmured. She walked over to stare at Harry, their innocent sleeping son. "He'll be a good boy," she declared suddenly.

James looked at her. "How do you know?"

"Because, he's our son. And he'll be kind, and brave, and smart."

James smiled. "That's all you."

Lily laughed. "No," she replied, firmly. "He'll be brave like you, and smart like both of us. And he'll be kind like nobody before," she added.

James nodded in satisfaction. "Sounds good," he agreed amiably. "So . . . , Harry, wakey-wakey—it's Daddy!" he says, raising his voice slightly in pitch and volume.

Lily laughed, her face shining as her worried expression disappears momentarily. James lived for moments like this, since they got stuck in here—moments when Lily was happy and Harry was giggling and they were whole.

He would cherish these moments—particularly this emotional one—until the end of his life.

XXX

Nearly three months later, James would realize how accurate that thought was: cherish these moments until the end of his life—because they were the only memories worth cherishing from those months spent in hiding.

And now he was shouting at Lily to take Harry and go while knowing she would not be able to—neither of them had wands on them—and then there was a cry of "Avada Kedavra!," a flash of green light, and then thud . . . thud—just for the record, he had written to Snape and apologized, but the letter had been sent back, clearly read—and he loved Harry so much—then . . . nothing.

A/N: I know you guys probably think this is lame. I do. But I didn't know what to write for James, and this just came to me, so I just posted it. If I come up with something better in the future, I will post another James chapter. Please review and tell me how you feel!