Disclaimer: I don't own HP or anything associated with it.
A/N: Just a one shot I had in my head. Read and review, please.
She was staring into the flames, her hands cupped around the mug of now cold hot chocolate. The girl—young woman, rather—stood there, motionless, green eyes deep with worry, hair and delicate features softened from the warm light. She seemed to be absorbing in the flickering fire, finding some message of strength and hope that none other could see. At long last she gave a small, tiny sigh of pain, and her emotion filled eyes overflowed.
Strong, capable hands found her waist and pulled her gently back, away from the mesmerizing blaze and the dreamlike world she was exploring, into a solid being. Fingers splayed across her waist, and she relaxed under his touch, closing her eyes and leaning back into his chest. She inhaled deeply—he smelled of fresh air and earth, probably from his romp in nature with Sirius before they had heard the news—and reveled in it. He always smelled so fresh, boyish and pure, a constant reminder of their previous childhood that seemed to have faded into the black of memory despite it only being a few years past.
"The McKinnons, James." She murmured, eyes still shut and tears barely constrained.
"I know, Lily." His words were soft and weary, so tired for one so young. They were all so young—too young to be dealing with such darkness. But Lily felt that she had matured long ago. She had been forced to, in order to survive within the cruelty of the world she dwelt in. And so had her friends and family.
"When will it stop?" It wasn't a question he could answer, and he sighed, gently running his thumb up and down Lily's stomach. With all his heart, James wished he could answer. He wished he could end it all, make it disappear, so the ones he loved wouldn't suffer, so they could spend their hours smiling like they used to instead of mourning for lost ones and constantly on edge for the next attack. He missed the carefree days, filled with sunshine and ringing laughter. But he could find no words to stop her tears, no soothing response that wasn't a lie. Instead James nuzzled those red waves with his nose, greeted by the flowery scent that he loved.
"I miss Marlene already." Her voice was quiet and broken. James looked up from Lily's hair to see those clear green eyes welling with tears again.
"I know, Lily. I know." She began to cry in his arms—thick, silent sobs that racked her body. It tore James' heat to pieces, seeing her cry like this. It was a harsh reality that no matter how hard he tried, James couldn't protect Lily from everything. He was helpless—frustratingly useless—in face of this catastrophe. He turned Lily around and enveloped her in a hug, crushing her against his chest, letting her cry, letting her sob and weep, letting her heart mourn for the loss, and yet also letting her know he was there.
After a few moments, she turned her tear streaked face to him, and begged—pleaded—quietly: "Tell me it again." James saw the need in her eyes, the desperation. She had to have some hope, some delicate thread to cling onto.
And so he began the oft repeated tale, voice soothing, arms wrapped around her: "One day, Lily, one day there will be a world with no Voldemort in it, when the darkness is nothing but a nightmare, a bad memory of the past, when children can go out to play without fear, and birds and hearts will sing again…" And the words fade into the distance, leaving naught in its wake but a haunting echo, a single, trembling, hope filled pitch that hangs in the air for eternity.