AU fic- what if the Potters hadn't died at Voldemort's hands? What if
they'd lived on, only to face tragedy nearly 2 decades later? Here you go,
the answer to that. Written after listening to "Over the Rainbow/What a
Wonderful World" on repeat for hours, and based on a "very special" ER
episode smirk
Anything you recognize belongs to JK Rowling et. al. The plot (more or less) of this belongs to Michael Crichton and his conspirators at ER. I'm just borrowing all of it.
Warning: Angst angst angst
Enjoy!
-Trinity
----
"Lily?"
"Yes?"
"I love you."
"I love you, too." She bit back tears as she said this, watching as a smile crossed his face. She gently squeezed his hand before rising from his bed and silently crossing the bedroom. She softly closed the door and walked down the hallway to the kitchen, arms wrapped around herself, willing herself to keep the tears from falling. Entering the kitchen, she found a dark-haired replica of his father sitting at the counter, spreading mayonnaise on a sandwich. He looked up, his eyes worried behind his glasses.
"Hi, Harry," she said softly, a small smile crossing her face.
"How is he?" the boy questioned, knife held in midair as he watched his mother's face. She shrugged, forcing a hopeful smile as she squeezed her arms and leaned against the counter.
"The same," she replied as cheerfully as she could manage. "He, um... he doesn't seem to be in any pain." This wasn't the answer the boy was looking for, but he nodded, trying to smile.
"That's good." He returned to his sandwich for lack of anything else to do. She watched him, gnawing on her lip. He glanced up as he closed the mayonnaise container, looking concerned. "Do you want anything, Mum?" She shook her head quickly, trying to smile at her son.
"No, that's all right, Harry. I'm fine." He looked doubtful- whether of her answer or of her last statement, it was unclear. Regardless, he nodded and crossed, mayonnaise in hand, to replace it in the refrigerator. "What did you make?" she questioned as he returned to his stool.
"Turkey sandwich," he replied, taking a bite. "You sure you don't want any?" he offered, holding the sandwich toward her.
"I'm sure, thanks," she replied, an honest smile crossing her worried face. She watched as he returned the smile and took another bite of his sandwich. The smile soon faded, and she leaned on the counter. "You should go see him after you eat that," she suggested softly. He looked back up quickly, halfway through the bite of his sandwich.
"Oh, I will," he replied as soon as he swallowed. "Should I bring him anything?" She shook her head, smiling at his caring suggestion.
"No, don't worry about that, Harry." He nodded, giving his mother a slight smile before continuing on his sandwich. She watched him for a moment before letting her gaze drift to the window over the sink. Drawn by the sight, she rose from the counter and crossed to it, eyes watching the waves break on the sand below. It was beautiful here- even in November- and she felt especially compassionate toward him for choosing this place to spend the rest of his days. He certainly didn't want to be in a house in the midst of London, and this was a far better choice.
"I'm going to see Dad," a voice from behind her said, and she turned to find the boy on the other side of the counter, plate empty.
"All right," she replied, smiling forcibly. He nodded, giving her a grim smile, before turning and heading down the hall to his father's room. She turned back to the window, rubbing her elbows as she watched the seagulls swoop above the waves. A sudden desire clutched at her heart, and she instinctively retreated from the window and crossed to the sliding door. With effort, she pushed it open and stepped, barefoot, out on to the deck. It was cold, but not cold enough to cause her to turn back. She paused for a moment, taking in the salty air, before continuing across the deck, down the steps and onto the sand. It was cool and damp, but it was a refreshing change from the linoleum and carpeting that she had felt beneath her feet the last two weeks. She slowly walked down toward the water, her feet leaving cracked impressions in the sand. The sky was gray, as it had been for the last month and a half, and the water was so dark it was nearly black. She stopped several inches from the water, watching it seep towards her before retreating, only to be replaced by more oozing darkness a moment later.
In the distance, a small light flickered, the only sign of land beyond the horizon, signified by a simple lighthouse. She wrapped her arms more tightly around her, suddenly wishing she'd brought a sweatshirt. This thought had barely crossed her mind when a set of arms wrapped themselves around her shoulders, instantly warming her. She immediately knew who it was- how could she not?- but logic told her otherwise.
"Harry?" she asked, knowing perfectly well it wasn't. She turned, the disembodied arms still around her shoulders, to find him smiling at her, glasses sliding down his nose as always. "James," she breathed, too caught in the moment to address the issue of his presence. He leaned forward, kissed her forehead, and squeezed her shoulders.
"I love you, Lily," he told her softly. She bit her lip to keep the tears from falling- something she'd become very good at in the last year of his illness.
"I love you, James," she responded in a whisper. He smiled, and tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her right ear.
"Take care of Harry. And take care of yourself," he instructed, cocking his head. She nodded, and he smiled again. "Good. Goodbye, Lily. I love you."
"I love you," Lily murmured, and squeezed her eyes shut to keep the tears in. A moment later, she opened them to find herself alone, with no sign of his presence. Except, directly in front of her, a set of cracked impressions from some other pair of feet. She took a deep breath, wrapping her arms more tightly around her shoulders.
"MOM!" She looked up to find the boy emerging onto the deck, frantic. He caught sight of her, and jumped over the railing, not bothering with the stairs. "Mom!" He ran to her, and she caught him in a hug as he scattered the sand in front of her. He buried his head in her shoulder, arms wrapped around her waist. "Dad... he's..." He pulled back, showing his green eyes, full of tears. "I think he's gone," he whispered, a single tear trickling out of the corner of his eye. She nodded, biting her lip.
"I know. It's..." she took a breath. "It's ok," she reassured him as he buried his face in her shoulder once more. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, resting her head on his shoulder. "He's at peace now," she whispered reassuringly. "And he's happy."
----
Anything you recognize belongs to JK Rowling et. al. The plot (more or less) of this belongs to Michael Crichton and his conspirators at ER. I'm just borrowing all of it.
Warning: Angst angst angst
Enjoy!
-Trinity
----
"Lily?"
"Yes?"
"I love you."
"I love you, too." She bit back tears as she said this, watching as a smile crossed his face. She gently squeezed his hand before rising from his bed and silently crossing the bedroom. She softly closed the door and walked down the hallway to the kitchen, arms wrapped around herself, willing herself to keep the tears from falling. Entering the kitchen, she found a dark-haired replica of his father sitting at the counter, spreading mayonnaise on a sandwich. He looked up, his eyes worried behind his glasses.
"Hi, Harry," she said softly, a small smile crossing her face.
"How is he?" the boy questioned, knife held in midair as he watched his mother's face. She shrugged, forcing a hopeful smile as she squeezed her arms and leaned against the counter.
"The same," she replied as cheerfully as she could manage. "He, um... he doesn't seem to be in any pain." This wasn't the answer the boy was looking for, but he nodded, trying to smile.
"That's good." He returned to his sandwich for lack of anything else to do. She watched him, gnawing on her lip. He glanced up as he closed the mayonnaise container, looking concerned. "Do you want anything, Mum?" She shook her head quickly, trying to smile at her son.
"No, that's all right, Harry. I'm fine." He looked doubtful- whether of her answer or of her last statement, it was unclear. Regardless, he nodded and crossed, mayonnaise in hand, to replace it in the refrigerator. "What did you make?" she questioned as he returned to his stool.
"Turkey sandwich," he replied, taking a bite. "You sure you don't want any?" he offered, holding the sandwich toward her.
"I'm sure, thanks," she replied, an honest smile crossing her worried face. She watched as he returned the smile and took another bite of his sandwich. The smile soon faded, and she leaned on the counter. "You should go see him after you eat that," she suggested softly. He looked back up quickly, halfway through the bite of his sandwich.
"Oh, I will," he replied as soon as he swallowed. "Should I bring him anything?" She shook her head, smiling at his caring suggestion.
"No, don't worry about that, Harry." He nodded, giving his mother a slight smile before continuing on his sandwich. She watched him for a moment before letting her gaze drift to the window over the sink. Drawn by the sight, she rose from the counter and crossed to it, eyes watching the waves break on the sand below. It was beautiful here- even in November- and she felt especially compassionate toward him for choosing this place to spend the rest of his days. He certainly didn't want to be in a house in the midst of London, and this was a far better choice.
"I'm going to see Dad," a voice from behind her said, and she turned to find the boy on the other side of the counter, plate empty.
"All right," she replied, smiling forcibly. He nodded, giving her a grim smile, before turning and heading down the hall to his father's room. She turned back to the window, rubbing her elbows as she watched the seagulls swoop above the waves. A sudden desire clutched at her heart, and she instinctively retreated from the window and crossed to the sliding door. With effort, she pushed it open and stepped, barefoot, out on to the deck. It was cold, but not cold enough to cause her to turn back. She paused for a moment, taking in the salty air, before continuing across the deck, down the steps and onto the sand. It was cool and damp, but it was a refreshing change from the linoleum and carpeting that she had felt beneath her feet the last two weeks. She slowly walked down toward the water, her feet leaving cracked impressions in the sand. The sky was gray, as it had been for the last month and a half, and the water was so dark it was nearly black. She stopped several inches from the water, watching it seep towards her before retreating, only to be replaced by more oozing darkness a moment later.
In the distance, a small light flickered, the only sign of land beyond the horizon, signified by a simple lighthouse. She wrapped her arms more tightly around her, suddenly wishing she'd brought a sweatshirt. This thought had barely crossed her mind when a set of arms wrapped themselves around her shoulders, instantly warming her. She immediately knew who it was- how could she not?- but logic told her otherwise.
"Harry?" she asked, knowing perfectly well it wasn't. She turned, the disembodied arms still around her shoulders, to find him smiling at her, glasses sliding down his nose as always. "James," she breathed, too caught in the moment to address the issue of his presence. He leaned forward, kissed her forehead, and squeezed her shoulders.
"I love you, Lily," he told her softly. She bit her lip to keep the tears from falling- something she'd become very good at in the last year of his illness.
"I love you, James," she responded in a whisper. He smiled, and tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her right ear.
"Take care of Harry. And take care of yourself," he instructed, cocking his head. She nodded, and he smiled again. "Good. Goodbye, Lily. I love you."
"I love you," Lily murmured, and squeezed her eyes shut to keep the tears in. A moment later, she opened them to find herself alone, with no sign of his presence. Except, directly in front of her, a set of cracked impressions from some other pair of feet. She took a deep breath, wrapping her arms more tightly around her shoulders.
"MOM!" She looked up to find the boy emerging onto the deck, frantic. He caught sight of her, and jumped over the railing, not bothering with the stairs. "Mom!" He ran to her, and she caught him in a hug as he scattered the sand in front of her. He buried his head in her shoulder, arms wrapped around her waist. "Dad... he's..." He pulled back, showing his green eyes, full of tears. "I think he's gone," he whispered, a single tear trickling out of the corner of his eye. She nodded, biting her lip.
"I know. It's..." she took a breath. "It's ok," she reassured him as he buried his face in her shoulder once more. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, resting her head on his shoulder. "He's at peace now," she whispered reassuringly. "And he's happy."
----