AN: Meh. Plotless drabble. James POV. Please bear with me. It's been a while since I've written this fandom, I'm a little rusty.
Disclaimer: I do not own. I do not make any money off this. It belongs to someone far more talented than I
Moment in Time.
Clink clink clink. Ice hitting the side of his glass. The sound of rain against the window. Lily humming some muggle tune in the kitchen. The sound of Harry's laughter as he makes a mess with his dinner.
He picks up the paper, puts it down again. He stands and stretches, paces. Sits back down, stands back up, walks to the window. Attempts to see anything in the hazy gloom. Sighing, he scrubs a hand through his hair, shaking his head. Nothing is wrong, he reasons, nothing bad will happen. Everything is as it should be, at least in their present situation. He presses his hands against the cool glass of the window. It only sharpens the edge he's on.
Don't be stupid, he thinks, we're safe, we're secure. Sirius was going to check on Peter himself tonight. There is no reason to worry so much. This night is no different than any other.
So why does it feel so wrong?
The crash of lightning. The tea kettle whistling. The crash of plastic on cheap linolium. Harry has upset his bowl. Lily scolding.
He should go help clean up.
How many times has this happened? Nothing's different about tonight.
Except the feeling of unease he can't escape.
In the kitchen he is wordlessly handed his son. Lily's exasperated eyes clearly telling him it's his turn to put him to bed. Harry squirms in his arms, reaching up to grab at his glasses, giving his father a toothless grin. Smiling back, He hoists him into the air, but even the sound of the child's delighted laughter cannot erase his ill ease.
The sound of the mobile. Harry's soft murmers in his sleep. The muted roll of thunder outside the window.
Absently rubbing his son's sleeping back, he allows himself a small smile. When this is over, he thinks, when all this is done, when the threat on his only child is lifted, they are going to move out of this place. They'll move to the country. Somewhere with wide open spaces. Somewhere where they aren't layered in protective wards. Somewhere where his son is able to leave with house without an armed escort. And when Harry is old enough, he'll teach him how to ride a broom. He and Sirius will teach him the finer points of Quidditch. And when the time comes, he'll tell Harry all about Hogwarts, pass on a few choice tidbits. Not all, of course, but just a few to get Harry started.
It will be perfect, he thinks. Just as it should be.
But he can't ignore the feeling of dread.
The fire popping merrily in the hearth, the sound of Lily's quiet breathing against his side, the warmth of the tea through the sunflower yellow cup.
He sits back, draws his wife closer to him. Breathes deep. The rain is starting to taper off.
The sound of the clock chiming in the hall. Ten o'clock.
This night will be over soon.
Tomorrow, he thinks, he'll go into Diagon alley. The child's broom he ordered for Harry has arrived. It was supposed to be for Christmas, but he thinks he'll give it to him early. If only to see the look of joy on the toddler's face at the prospect of shiny gift wrap.
And he'll perhaps he'll contact Dumbledore, see that the wards on Peter are increased. Just to be sure.
The sound of the front gate swinging.
Lily shifts slightly, he tenses. He secured the gate himself…..
Oh, please no!
The sound of the first of the wards going off.
Lily up on her feet, eyes wide with fear.
No! No this isn't happening!
Wailing from the nursery. Harry has awakened. Feet on the front walk.
The desperate kiss he gives his wife, before pushing her towards the stairs. Towards Harry, towards the wizarding world's only hope.
Run! Run! Take Harry and go!
The sound of the front door being thrown open. The feel of his wand in his hand. The grim acceptance, the strong defiance. The courage and strength only a father knows.
The wide open fields, the sound of Harry's laughter as he takes his first ride….fading…the sound of wailing from upstairs intensifying. The sinister chuckle from the figure in front of him.
No! You will not have him!
The world seems frozen as he faces him, a moment in time, hanging suspended. The future hinges on this one second, this one moment. He wants to weep. This isn't right. They were supposed to be safe. He was supposed to watch his son grow up. He was suppose to grow old with his wife.
The figure takes a step forward, raises his wand, time unfreezes…
And he watches as his perfect future is destroyed.