Rating: PG Author's Notes: A very angst fic, written by a depressed me in a storm and inspired by the death of my grandmother. James's and Harry's funeral. Part songfic; the congregation sings "He Died for Me" at the funeral and it keeps echoing around Lily's head--but then she is partially insane. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or canon characters. I don't own the song "He Died for Me." JK Rowling and some Catholic guy do.
She seemed to be watching her.
"James Potter was a good husband," the minister's voice intoned. "He was a loving father and he did much more than that. He was a hero; he had fought against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named countless times, a general in the counter-attack. But he knew the dangers, knew the challenges he would have to face, and he accpeted them..."
But I didn't, Lily thought blankly. She sat silently, her red hair falling loose around her shoulders. She wore a simple black dress with a black veil above her head, but more than her dress, it was her eyes that were black. Emerald spheres that shone for James were dead--dead--and were strangely dry. She had tried to cry; she could not bring herself to cry. She didn't have the energy, anymore. Even her face was pale, devoid of makeup, unable to force herself to try to look presentable. She simply didn't care.
Her face above Lily was calm, serene, with traces of sorrow. Blue robes flowed down her, her eyes looking down upon Lily with understanding and love. Her hands, folded in prayer, were clasped to her breast, a strange Asian beauty around her dark eyes and tan face. I am with you, she seemed to say, but Lily could not answer. She could not tear her eyes away from her face; the Virgin Mother of God.
"Now, let us rise and sing together," the minister said gently, but Lily did not hear him. She barely noticed the others around her rising, and remained seated herself; a solitary, lonely figure, a slim girl who's cross suddenly seemed impossible to bear.
There is a river
Flowing through Heaven
Arabella glanced at Lily, worried. Black hair fell down her back, and her normally bright robes were exchanged for a solemn black, and her gray eyes lingered on the red haired woman, worry creeping around her heart. She has nothing, she thought quietly, watching her stare into the Virgin Mary's face lifelessly. She has nothing to live for, anymore. It would be better if she died with them.
Her mouth formed the words of the song listlessly, restlessly, her voice barely a whisper. She felt someone take her hand and looked over to Sirius, standing beside her. The prankster was silent now, his eyes locked on the coffin in front of the altar. His eyes were red, but he did not look at her as she squeezed his fingers, then opened her mouth to sing a little louder.
Where someday, they shall be seen
Someday, we'll walk beside that shore
Lily could not move. The minister came to her softly as the congregation sang; hundreds of people who had known James or known of James, and come to bid him a final farewell. "Ms. Potter?" he asked softly. Lily did not take her eyes away from the Virgin Mary. "Mrs. Potter?"
Lily finally, as if a great effort, tore her eyes away from the statue's, ,and met the minister's. He recoiled a little in shock. Her eyes were dead, her face devoid of all expression, like she had lost the will to live.
She had.
Walk with them again
Because He died for me
"Mrs. Potter? Are you all right?" he asked kindly. Lily stared straight at him, unable to open her mouth, though the words formed in her mind: No! No! Of course I'm not all right! He's gone, gone forever, and my baby is gone, oh James is gone and I have no one and no one will ever...
Slowly, Lily shook her head, the movement costing her a tremendous effort. Her mouth tried to form the word: "No," but she couldn't summon the energy. The minister took one of her hands in his; it was limp, pale, spidery, unable to do anything. It was the hand of a dead person. "It will be all right," he whispered to her, but the words were a lie. He let go of her hand, walking back to the pulpit.
He died for me
He died to save my soul and save me so I could be free...
Lily heard him give the order to sit down, but she couldn't comprehend it. Her eyes had gone back to those eyes that belonged to the statue, sitting above the altar, the statue of Mary, the Virgin, Mother of God. She who had given up her son; who had given up her son for the world.
"Let us always remember James and Harry Potter in our hearts, minds, and souls," she heard the minister say. "They are with us always, in memory and in truth. They are here, among us." He bowed his head silently. "May God rest their souls. May peace fill your souls. Go in peace."
Slowly, the congregation filed away. Several people passed Lily, giving her a pat on the shoulder or asking if there was something they could do; but Lily could not answer them. Finally, the church was clear. Lily sat in the front pew, her eyes affixed to the Virgin Mary's. She felt a hand on her shoulder, but could not look away.
"Lily," a voice was saying gently. "Lily."
The persuasive power of this voice triggered something in Lily's brain, and slowly, she looked up. Arabella Figg stood before her, Arabella, her best friend of twenty years, Arabella, who had always been there for her. No one could be there for her now.
It seemed as it were taking every last ounce of energy she had, but she shook her head. "No, Arabella," she whispered, and her voice cracked. "You can't."
Her voice was enough to make Arabella cry. Lily was dead; this was not Lily, who had been so alive, who had loved James, who had loved life. She could feel tears coming to gray eyes, and nodded silently. "I'm sorry, Lily," she whispered, and it sounded as if she were not apologizing for being there as much as for everything. Leaning down, she gave Lily a final hug, trying to transfer strength in it, but Lily remained frozen.
He died for me...
Arabella walked silently out of the church, and with tears in her eyes, shut the doors, and leaned against the door. Rain scattered outside, and she gave one long shuddering breath before bursting into sobs, leaning against the door as she sank to the ground. Tears poured out of her eyes as she clutched futilely at her arms, trying to put some warmth into her lifeless body. "James and Harry are dead," she sobbed, burying her head in her knees, curling up into a pitiful ball, her hair falling around her face, covering her like a curtain. "It's not fair, it's not fair...it's not fair--it's not fair," she sobbed, tears trickling out of her eyes.
She buried her head in her knees, trying to escape the world, when she felt arms encircle her. "They're dead," she sobbed out. "They're all dead..."
Sirius's arms tightened briefly around her as he kneeled beside her. "Lily is alive, Arabella," he said quietly. "It will be all right."
"You don't understand!" Arabella cried. "James is dead, Harry is dead, Lily is dead, they're all dead! Lily will not live! It's not fair..." she sobbed, crying into her arms as rain beat down just outside the confines of the porch.
Sirius's arms tightened again, for he knew what she said was true. It was over. The Potters were no more. "It will be all right," he repeated, but this time he was not talking about the Potters. "I swear I will take care of you, Arabella, and I swear I will make things all right..."
He died for me
He died to save my soul and save me so I could be free...
Lily stared at the golden cross sitting on James and Harry's casket. It reflected dimly in the candle light, flickering back and forth with her, flickering in tune to her emerald eyes. Lily could not hardly speak.
She could feel her heart beat, feel her life energy going into nothing else than keeping her heart beating, feel every beat like a knife was stuck in it, ripping her apart. Slowly, taking strength from the warmth Arabella had given her, the strength for this last task, she stood painfully, feeling energy run out of her legs as she force herself, step by painful step, to walk to the casket.
It was closed, and she hesitated, her hand poised over the mahagony wood, unable to move.
He died for me
He died to save my soul and save me so I could be free...
Lily forsook all thoughts of the past, staring at the stained glass window, leaning forward ever so slightly, as if a few inches gained could possibly help her--but yes, surely that was a cloud of dust in the window, and in the stained glass were the dim forms of horsemen, and a swirl in the pattern seemed to stand out to her--James, standing on the hill, arrayed in scarlet, facing the forces of Voldemort once again.
Lily paused, breathing heavily, her hand still paused above the casket. Lightly, she let her hand rest on the wood, and felt a stab or relief flow through her; a sudden warmth. She could feel energy that was keeping her heart beating dwindle slowly.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump...
She did not notice the shadow, or the great gray shadow bird swooping overhead, circling, a ray of stained glass light glimmering like a star between its uncanny eyes. She did not feel a thing when a dark feather floated down on a ray of jeweled light to touch her gently, oh so gently, on the shoulder.
Authoress's Note: That last bit about the bird circling is from a book called I am Morgan le Fay by Nancy Springer. If you read the end of the book, it is very sad, and in the book the bird was Morgan, bringer of death, and here the bird represents the bringer of death.