Chapter Six

Disclaimer: Everything in Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling
"How are you holding up, Lily?" Remus asked concernedly, sitting down beside her on an ornate bench which was looking out on the Potters' seemingly endless back garden.

Lily smiled wearily. "Better than James, it seems."

"I'm worried about him—in fact Padfoot, Wormtail and I all are. We just can't seem to get through to him."

"You and me both, it seems."

"I've never seen him like this. He has become so remote and so…organised…"

Lily ran a hand through her hair. "Mrs. Potter's funeral is in two hours and I don't know how to even handle this new James. He hasn't cried and he just keeps on making these damned lists all the time. Merlin! If I see another list, I think I am going to go mad!"

"But when has James ever cried? Remember in sixth year when he fell from his broom during a Quidditch match and broke both his leg and his arm? He did not even make a sound—he was practically sweating and fainting with the effort to keep himself from crying."

Lily sighed and Remus gave her a sympathetic look. "I remember. I'm just worried that he is going to crack. I have no idea how he is going to react when his mum is finally buried."

"All we can do is be there for him—no more and no less," Remus said and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

The day was gloomy and overcast. Clouds hung over the Potter family plot where countless generations of Potters lay buried. Various members of the Ministry, the Order, Hogwarts and all the Potter house elves who had black arm bands on, clustered together to pay their final respects to Mrs. Potter who had been a revered member of the wizarding community and a benevolent mistress to her house elves.

"Mum would have hated this day. It should be sunny and warm…not all grey," James said quietly, his eyes gazing intensely at the hole in the ground where his mother was soon to be put.

For the past week, James had put a charm on his hair to make it lie flat and had ordered the house elves to iron and starch all his clothes, removing all crinkles and stains from them. Remus and Lily then had to nearly restrain Sirius from tearing apart Peter after he untactfully asked James why he had decided to become so neat.

Lily and Sirius stood protectively on either side of James while Remus stood by Lily and Peter by Sirius, forming a secure barrier. They were all dressed in black dress robes and none of them were smiling. James had deep purple circles under his eyes and Lily wondered how long he could keep going like that.

Mrs. Potter had stated in her will that she wanted no pomp or ceremony. She only desired a quiet funeral and to be buried beside her beloved husband. James had followed his mother's wishes, and decided not to have any long speeches or do an elaborate display of flowers and charms that had become the fashion in the wealthy pureblood wizarding community.

James cleared his throat and stepped forward to the forefront of the congregation of mourners. It struck him that only two weeks ago, he had been standing in front of the same assembled guests, but for an occasion of joy: his wedding. The irony would have made him laugh if he had the energy.

"Thank-you all for coming to farewell my mother, Eleanor Potter. No amount of words can do my mother justice in bearing testimony to her unselfish love, generosity and courage. She was a loving mother to both me, and to Sirius," James glanced briefly at Sirius with a half-smile, "and a devoted wife to my father, Harold Potter…" James' voice trailed off, his eyes watery. He raised a hand to his mouth, in order to compose himself. He then straightened up and clasped both his hands together so tightly that Lily could see his knuckles practically bursting through with tension.

"I could ramble on with descriptive clichés and florid language about my mother for hours—but I will not because my mother was not false or insincere. She was a woman of integrity and strength and her departure will leave a void in my life that will never quite heal—as all children who lose a parent well know." At this, James turned his gaze to Lily, who knew more than anyone, what it was like to lose both parents. His eyes were filled with a combination of compassion and grief, which pierced Lily straight to her core. Tears pricked at her eyes and Remus and Sirius stood protectively next to her, like two brothers. Peter appeared oddly uncomfortable, his eyes almost distant, as if he were thinking about something else.

As Lily watched her husband talk on, she realised how grave and adult James had become. His grief seemed to add at least four or five years on him and she could barely recognise the laughing and charismatic boy who ruled Hogwarts. He had the mourners' full attention as his rich voice that was taut with suppressed emotion was spellbinding them.

"Though in my youth I must have given her countless anxieties, grey hair and migraines, I loved her and I will miss her—and I cannot make it any more eloquent than that." He then looked down at the shining jarrah wood coffin. His jaw slightly trembled. He now was talking directly to his deceased mother. "Good-bye mum," he said quietly. He then stood back, his skin an unhealthy pallor.

Lily immediately threaded her arm through his. "Well done, my love," she whispered and kissed his cheek lightly. James merely swallowed, his eyes glittering intensely from behind his glasses.

The wake was a surprisingly light affair: many of Mrs. Potter's friends swapped lively stories about her or fond remembrances and food and drink were supplied liberally. Members of the press, such as the Daily Prophet, also loitered around like bad smells—one significant annoyance was a new young reporter called Rita Skeeter.

James was subdued and wandered mechanically around the room, shaking hands with various guests who were like a blur to him and politely answering questions or thanking people for coming in a measured tone.

Sirius, Remus and Peter stood by the buffet table and were covertly observing their friend and his wellbeing.

"Prongs looks like someone has just exhumed him from a grave," Sirius said bluntly. "We've got to do something."

Remus sipped his Butterbeer thoughtfully. "I know what you mean. Lily does not know what to do either. I think we can only inform him that we are here for him if he needs us. We should stay on a few more days—I think both Lily and Prongs will appreciate it."

"I don't think I'll be able to stay a full week," Peter said, fidgeting with the sleeve of his robe.

"Why not?" asked Sirius, his eyes piercing.

"Because…uh…mum really wants to see me—uh, she hasn't seen me for a couple of weeks and I dare not disappoint her and—"

"Forget it," Sirius snapped, waving his hand dismissively.

"Padfoot," Remus warned.

Peter flushed a deep red. "I'm really sorry and—"

"Dissent in the ranks, eh boys?" came a sly voice.

"Rita Skeeter!" Sirius spat. "Haven't you got better things to do than desecrate a funeral?"

Rita smirked and held up her pink quill and pad. "What do you think of James Potter? I hear that he has some dreadful ailment that—"

"So will you if you don't get lost!" Sirius interrupted hotly.

"Sirius," Remus interposed again, placing a cautionary hand on Sirius' shoulder.

Rita grinned even more widely. "What would you say to the rumour that the Potter marriage is on the rocks? Also, is it true that the late Mrs. Eleanor Potter herself had been the mistress of Dumbledore, Fudge and Crouch the Elder—"

"Miss Skeeter," Remus said evenly. "If you do not remove yourself from our presence, then I cannot be responsible for the actions of my dear friend here," he finished, gesturing to a livid Sirius who was being restrained by Remus and Peter.

Sirius then called Rita two words that were not commonly used in polite society. Peter's eyes widened in shock and Remus stifled a grin while Rita flushed indignantly.

"Well," said Rita with an injured air. "I am not going to waste any more time on miscreants like you. Be warned that a less than complimentary article will appear on you in tomorrow's edition," and with that, she flounced off and fortunately missed Sirius' one-finger salute to her.

It was around eleven o'clock at night by the time Lily could finally corner her husband alone. The other three Marauders had retired early after Remus had kindly cooked up a meal of turkey and vegetables, though no one really had an appetite. James appeared to have been avoiding Lily all day. He always seemed to be ducking off somewhere and he had disappeared with the Marauders for a good couple of hours, leaving Lily all alone in the Potter Mansion.

Lily's temper was strained and she was tired. "James, we need to talk," she said without decoration.

James tried to get past her. "Not now, Lils. I need to—"

"No. Now."

"Excuse me, Lily, but could you please stop obstructing the doorway as I need to get past," he said politely.

Lily finally snapped. "By Merlin! You are going to stay here and actually talk to me! I'm not going to let you to block me out again!"

"What if I don't want to stay here? There's nothing you can do to stop me."

"Want to bet on that?" Lily shot back. "My hexes are pretty damn good."

"So are mine, in case you have forgotten!"

Lily and James stared hotly at each other in silence for a tense moment.

"If you don't move out of the way, then I will be forced to hex you," James said quietly, his eyes heated.

Lily did not move. She knew James would never raise a hand against her. She crossed her arms against her chest and raised her chin defiantly. "You wouldn't dare."

At that, all the fire for a fight went out of James and he looked at her with such anguish and intense feeling that Lily felt her heart clench violently. "Oh Lils," he murmured brokenly, raising a hand to caress her face, "You know I never would do anything to harm you…"

"I know, I know," Lily replied softly, "But I hate seeing you self-destructing inside. Please let me in."

James turned away from her, his whole frame shuddering. He then sank to the floor with a groan of pain, tears sliding down his face; finally giving in to his long-hoarded grief. Lily immediately kneeled before him and gathered him up in her arms while sprinkling his face and hair with light kisses as he spoke sometimes, choked by tears about his mother.

"Lily, Lily, Lily," James said richly, saying her name like it was a precious incantation. He had ceased crying and now cupped Lily's face in his hands and was gazing at her as if she were the only thing in the world that mattered to him—the only thing that kept him from becoming consumed by darkness. "What have I done to deserve you?"

Lily did not answer and merely kissed him deeply in response.

A couple of hours later, amongst the tangled sheets of their bed, the pair lay entwined together, neither of them sure where their own limbs started and ended.

Lily had rejoiced in their new-found connection and revelled in being privy to James' thoughts again. Never again, she silently vowed to herself, would she allow themselves to become estranged from each other.

Lily opened her eyes lazily and her brow creased when she saw how James regarded her with an almost haunted look.

"James?" she asked, gently brushing his hair off his face.

James closed his eyes for a moment, as if he were gathering himself together. He then opened them again, revealing hazel eyes which had flecks of gold in them—both mercurial and temperate at the same time. "Do you know what I'm most afraid of?"

"No. Tell me."

"Of you dying."

"My love, I have no intention of dying anytime soon," Lily said, trying to inject some levity into her voice.

"When mum died…I was suddenly struck with these nightmares—first of all, she would be lying there with a greyish pallor and staring up at me blankly. Then all of a sudden, her body would morph into yours—" his voice faltered, as if the next thing he had to say pained him the most. "—and there you were lying. Dead. Yet, I had never seen you more beautiful…"

"James…"

"You were wearing your wedding dress that was spread out like a sea of white silk…your red hair crowned your head like a halo of fire and your eyes—they had never been so green."

Lily was speechless. The sheer depth of James' fears and feelings for her astounded her.

"James, I have no intention of leaving you alone," Lily said intensely, laying a kiss on his forehead. "I plan to be by your side—whether you like it or not."

A ghost of a grin flittered past his face. "Good," he said hoarsely. "Because I have no plans of letting you go. I want to die old with you—I want everything with you. I've lost my parents and I'm not about to lose you."

"You're going to make me cry, you prat," smiled Lily through her tears. "You are my other half, James, and you are my family. I want you to promise me that you will never shut me out from anything again—no matter what you feel, you must tell me! I don't want to you to carry your burdens on your own for I am your wife."

James pulled Lily's face down to his, his breath tickling her skin. The two looked back at each other unwaveringly. "I promise you, Lily Potter, that I will never shut you out from me. You are my wife, lover and confidante and always will I endeavour to make myself worthy of what you have given to me in the hope that it will be enough…"

Lily smiled radiantly. "You silly prat! It is enough," she whispered tenderly, trailing an alabaster hand down the side of his face.

For the first time in more than a week, she saw James smile—yes it still held traces of sorrow but now there was life in that smile again. He was healing. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and pulled her atop his chest with astounding energy. Lily giggled as her lips met his. James had not been vanquished or defeated by his grief. The old James Potter still lived—and wanted.

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