eighteen - quiver
(Their house is full of sadness.)
The clock chimes on the mantel piece, marking four o'clock, and Harry sits on the rug in the front room, chewing on a soft Snitch toy; he's unknowing.
James stands with the letter grasped firmly in his hand, knuckles clenched so tight around the sheet they've turned white.
Lily sinks into the sofa, wrapping her cardigan around her body as if to protect herself from the news; there's an ache in her heart and she turns to look out the window.
Marlene lies dead in her house, found slaughtered alongside her brother Matthew, her mother and father.
"Merlin," James breathes. "Matt – Marlene…."
The note flutters out of his hand as he lurches to the sofa, steadying himself on the arm.
Harry crawls towards the paper and picks it up, aiming a questioning look at James with wide eyes. He babbles unintelligibly and as he moves back to his Snitch, he sits on the paper. It won't budge and he tugs it, tearing it a little.
"No, Harry, give that to Daddy –" says James distractedly.
Shivers run up and down Lily's spine and, leaning back into James' shoulder, she takes a shuddering breath. He pinches the bridge of his nose under his glasses and there's a lump in his throat and he was never brilliantly close with the McKinnons, not as close as Lily, but still he feels like he's falling through grief worse than even when his father died and –
"Da," gurgles Harry, and hands back the paper, now a little wet.
"Thanks, mate," James says, swallowing hard. He puts an arm around Lily, leaning his head on hers. Quietly: "Lil?"
"I can't believe it," she murmurs after a moment. "Marlene. Can I see?"
He hands her the letter and she scans it.
Prongs, it reads, and bloody hell.
It's Marlene. All of them, the McKinnons… they're dead. We found them this morning. I won't go into detail but they were in a bad way and I reckon they didn't make it quick. Suspicion's on Karkaroff and Dolohov at the moment, the bastards. I'll write when I know more.
On a happier note, I've set up an owl to bring over the kid's birthday present. Hopefully I'll be able to make it, but…you know.
Hope you're all doing fine.
"Are you sure it's him?" asks Lily when she's finished reading.
James nods.
"Sure?"
"Lily," James says, strained and letting his anger at the brutal murder of the McKinnons out on his wife, "he addressed it 'Prongs'. He knows it's Harry's birthday. He signed it with a fu - he signed it with a paw print, of course it's Sirius."
"I know, I just…" she stops. "If there was any way…"
James sighs, mumbling into her hair. "I know. I'm sorry."
Lily shakes her head and lets out a shaky breath, eyes welling with tears. "I can't –"
They hold each other for a while, sharing their grief, when Harry pulls himself up and tugs on James' trouser leg, releasing a stream of sounds. Lily looks at him, lip quivering and eyes red but lets out a watery laugh all the same. "Hey, baby," she says, and strokes his cheek.
He grabs the letter again and waves it around in the air happily, giggling, and Lily catches sight of the words on the paper: Marlene…they're dead…all of them…
She turns and buries her face in James' chest, body racked with sobs.
Their house is full of sadness, and the clock chimes on the mantel piece, marking half past four.
a/n: next one's not angsty, I swear! Also, on reviews of chapter 17 - part two coming up some time soon.