Chapter Text
Lily pushed herself up on her tiptoes, clutching a string of fairy lights in her hand, to loop the wire over the hook. Unfortunately, her ridiculously tall husband with his ridiculously long reach had set up the hook and, as Lily was notridiculously tall, she could not get to it properly. Grumbling mutinously, she tried to stretch even farther than her limbs would go, clenching her eyes as if the extra effort would afford her the last six inches.
A deep chuckle behind her was her only warning before a large hand plucked the lights from her grip. “Ten years of magic and you still go for the Muggle way.”
“Shut it, Potter; the Muggle way is superior.” She said, not unkindly as he strung them up without effort. “You put those damn hooks too high up intentionally, didn’t you?”
Kissing the junction between her neck and shoulder, she felt James smile. “I like to see you reach.”
“I’m sure that’s spousal abuse.” She replied, turning around to loop her arms around his waist. “I should report you to the Wizengamot.”
“Or,” Peering down at her through his glasses, he slowly stepped forward to push her back against the wall. He loved the way her hips pressed against his. Leaning down, her lips got closer and closer, “You could do the punishing right now.”
Something rustled outside among the din of Godric’s Hollow. Autumn was always so noisy, he thought, watching Lily’s soft green eyes glitter.
Her laughter startled him. He pouted when she said, “Not until Friday, Jim. Sirius promised to turn the music up and play with Harry.”
“Look at us, planning sex like adults.”
Hooking her fingers in his trousers, she pulled him closer for a kiss. As usual, his hand tangled in her long hair, threading through the strands casually as his other hand cradled her hip, thumb stroking at the skin under her shirt. It was James’ favorite way of kissing her. With her lovely hips and her lovely hair all under his hands, her body underneath his. Of course, Lily had meant this to be soft. He knew she only meant to kiss him for a moment or two before she would pull back to remind him that they had to wait until Sirius could distract Harry now that his boy had developed the ability to walk and open doors.
But Merlin when she touched him it was like he couldn’t get enough. His mouth ached against hers and he didn’t care; he was ravenous. It was like that film she and Marlene made the lads watch where the main bloke starting going on about wanting to consume his bride, he loved her so. Sirius had thrown popcorn at the screen, complaining loudly while Remus explained how it was a metaphor, Padfoot, he didn’t literally mean he wanted to cannibalize his wife; James wasn’t so sure. They had all laughed during the scene but James hadn’t.
He didn’t want to eat Lily but there was definitely something hungry in him when she was near. It had always been like that, even in school. She would walk into a classroom and he couldn’t resist bothering her just to see her eyes so bright, her mouth forming his last name, her cheeks flush, and her chest heave. He loved it. Any scrap of attention she would feed him, he would take, and it would satisfy him until the next time.
Of course, it had changed when they started dating. There new, other ways in which he couldn’t get enough of her. He wanted to consume her, from her toes to her eyelashes to the top of her burning head. He wanted to crack open her skull and surround himself with that wild, wonderful mind. He wanted to live in her chest or have her live in his or stitch them together indelibly.
She was his best friend, the person he loved most in all the world.
(‘Sorry, Pads.’ He thought distantly.)
There weren’t enough years in a lifetime, he thought. Not to be satisfied.
He bit her lip just the way she liked as his grip tightened in her hair, pushing against her.
“James,” She moaned against his mouth. “It’s not Friday.”
“Oh, fuck Friday,” He grunted, reaching down to hoist her thighs up so she could wrap her legs around him. Of course, she wouldn’t be Lily if she didn’t refuse to listen, keeping her feet firmly on the ground.
“We will.” She panted, pulling her mouth away from his. “Now get off.”
“Mate, I’m trying.” James groaned bitterly. But still, he pulled back, leaning on the wall beside her, hoping he didn’t look as much a mess as he felt. She was right, damn her. After several deep breaths, he got himself under control.
“You’re gonna kill me one of these days.” Lily told him, her laugh low and husky.
“Now there’s the wand calling the broom wood.” James replied, grinning. “I can’t believe I traded my raid rotation with Peter – I would have been home by now and Remus would have been a good sport.”
Lily laughed. “Don’t blame Peter for your mistake, Jim. Besides, you got to spend the night here with us on Halloween – your son’s first Halloween where he knows what’s going on.”
From the crib, Harry’s head popped up having heard his mum say his name.
“Mama, Dada,” He said, reaching his little hands up in a silent plea. James was the first off of the wall.
“My boy!” He bounded over to the crib and scooped their giggling son up in his arms. Harry squealed in joy as James tossed him up in the air. Lily watched them for a moment, toying with her hair as she beamed.
As she made her way to the kitchen for Harry’s dinner, James fell back onto the couch, bouncing Harry in his lap and making silly faces.
James looked every inch the proud father that he was. “Look at you, you lovely thing. Got your mummy’s eyes and everything but don’t worry, I’ll teach you how to maintain that hair. You’ll be a lady-killer before you know it.”
“James,” Lily laughed, appearing in the doorway with an apple and a knife for a moment to say, “You can’t even control your hair!”
Her husband ignored her. “Don’t listen to the bad woman, sweetheart. I’ll teach you all about your hair.” His voice dropped into a reverent whisper, “I’ll teach you everything.”
Harry reached up for his glasses in response. Lily came back out, holding her arms out for her son. She cooed, “Time for dinner, little Prawn.”
“Prawn!” Harry cheered. James winced, hoping the nickname from Harry’s early attempts to say ‘Prongs’ would vanish by the time Harry was going off to Hogwarts. It wouldn’t do wonders for Harry’s image to be called ‘Prawn’ – even by legends like the Marauders. Merlin only knew how many fights Harry would get in defending his nickname; it would be a repeat of Fleamont Potter’s Hogwarts experience.
As usual, James felt a small pang at thinking of his father. He would have liked to watch Harry grow into a fine young man. Still, it would have to be enough to know both his father and his mother would be proud of their grandson no matter his nickname.
James handed his giggling boy over. “You know, I can feed him.”
“That’s fine, love, but you have to do it in the kitchen.” Lily’s said, hoisting Harry on her hip. “I don’t want to be cleaning apple pieces out of the couch later tonight.”
“That was one time!”
“That was last week, Jim. And don’t raise your voice – you’ll scare Harry.”
It was a testament to how much they’d grown that James only grinned. “You’re just sore we didn’t let you in on our contest.”
“I am not!”
“Oh, then why?”
“A completely unrelated reason.”
James laughed.
“You’re good at it. That’s why you couldn’t join, Lil.” James stood up, kissing her quickly. Harry squealed happily between them. James smiled, using a finger to hold Harry’s small hand. “It’s no fun when you know who’s gonna win.”
“Bastard.”
The rustling sounded again, raising the hairs on James’ arm. They were safe, he told himself. He was just being paranoid. If something had happened to Peter, they would have been told. They would have been the first to be told.
Everything was f—
The door swung open carrying a cold wind and chilling laugh.
—ucked.
James pushed Lily behind him, heart thundering in his ears as the shape of Voldemort filled the doorway.
“Lily, take Harry and go! It’s him! Go! Run! I’ll hold him off —”
In shades of black, he all but blended into the night sky behind him; yet somehow all James could see was red, red eyes. Lily screamed something but James couldn’t hear her. He couldn’t tell if the pounding in his head were Lily’s footsteps running up the stairs or his heart.
A jet of green light came crashing towards him and he was going to die, he was going to die, die, die, die, die—
—protect Lily, protect Harry, protect Lily, protect Harry, I love Lily, I love Harry, I love Sirius, I love Harry, I love Lily, I love Remus, I love Peter, oh Merlin Peter he must’ve killed Peter, protect Lily, protect Harry, I love my family, I LOVE LILY, I LOVE HARRY, I LOVE LI—
“JAMES!” Lily screamed, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him back. She hadn’t run upstairs. It must’ve been his heart. The light just barely missed his hand as he fell back towards his wife. James scrambled to his feet as Voldemort raised his wand again but Lily was still pulling him towards the back of the house.
He tried to push her ahead; if she could make it out back then maybe her and Harry would live. All he had to do was face Voldemort for a few measly seconds, just buy them enough time, and he would die but that was okay, because they would be alive. His Lily and his Harry and his family and all he had to do was die.
(War had taught him how easy that was.)
“Not without you!” She shrieked, still pulling him. “Not without you!”
There wasn’t time to argue as James pulled the tables in the hallways down behind him, trying to at least make it harder for Voldemort to follow them. Jets of green light blazed behind them but it was Voldemort’s high laugh that terrified James most. At some point his hand had found Lily’s and it ached with how hard he was holding it, with how white her knuckles were.
If only he had his fucking wand.
Their scattered running pattern wouldn’t stop Voldemort long, especially with the narrow hallway coming up, James realized. Godric’s Hollow had a fairly open concept except for the narrow path out to the back garden, through which James knew they couldn’t continue this dodging. They would be lined up like ducks for the slaughter.
“Evans, you have to go alone!” He yelled.
“Shut up, Potter!” She screamed, Harry’s green eyes staring over her shoulder, wide with tears. James had no clue how she was holding Harry and his hand and still had the energy to yell at him except that it was his Lily. Always the overachiever.
“Reducto,” The ceiling above them collapsed. James barely had time to cover Lily and Harry as rubble rained down. Dust and smoke filled his lungs but nothing felt broken, only bruised. Voldemort called out to them, taunting their feeble attempts at escaping. Lily pushed out from under him, trying to continue dragging him. Harry was squalling now but they kept running.
I can’t let you die, James thought. His lungs burned.
The hallway was getting narrower and James made a small prayer to whoever was listening that his family would live as he wrenched his hand from Lily’s. He turned to face Voldemort, trying to think of all of Remus’ terrible insults for that ‘snake-faced, terrible-smelling psychopath with a frankly stupid moniker I mean honestly, Prongs, Sirius could come up with a better name and he’s named that motorbike Helen’ and Lily’s eyes and his son’s laugh to keep from being completely paralyzed in fear.
I can’t let you die.
Lily yelled his name again but he didn’t look back as he picked up a broken shard of a table. Lily had explained Muggle baseball to them one night (an eternity ago); naturally, Sirius wanted to play a full game – “Harry can be referee!” “He’s ten-months-old, Padfoot.” “Obviously we’ll wait until he’s two.” – but he supposed he’d have to make do with Voldemort’s head as a baseball instead of an actual one. It was certainly round and white enough. He almost laughed.
I can’t let you die.
Then he was moving. Not forward, like he’d been planning, nor backward from a spell. No, he was moving sideways. For a second, he imagined Voldemort moving him aside like a ragdoll – as if he wasn’t worth killing – and felt completely powerless to save his family after all; imagining a world where he would be forced to watch them die. He wouldn’t survive it.
I can’t let you die.
It was only the flash of red hair in front of his eyes before the sudden darkness of their broom closet that made him realize it was Lily that had pulled him. He opened his mouth to ask her if she was daft or suicidal because she had to run, she had to run, this was a death sentence being in this broom closet. Voldemort’s mocking voice only got nearer.
“Hiding will not protect you, you fools.”
But Lily was scurrying up against James, pushing herself up with the arm not holding Harry and kneeing him gently, urging him to give her a bloody boost already. Dumbfounded and about ready to start laughing out of sheer terror, James gave her the boost. Harry wailed by his ear, uncomfortably smooshed between his mother’s arms and his father’s chest but Lily didn’t stop reaching.
The door opened on James with one arm around his wife’s waist and his hand under her foot with her knee digging into his sternum as she held her son with one arm and her back to Voldemort whose face seemed torn between mocking them and curious. Nevertheless, he raised his wand again, this time pointed directly at Harry’s red face.
NO, NOT HARRY, James couldn’t scream. NOT HARRY NOT HARRY PLEASE NOT MY SON TAKE ME TAKE ME—
“Avada—”
James felt something hook in his navel and the broom closet turned blurry. He held tighter to Lily wondering if this is what death felt like: like spinning into the afterlife. It wasn’t until he started to smell pine that he realized he’d closed his eyes. Light shone brilliantly down on him when he opened them; it blinded him slightly.
Then he heard Harry’s crying and he very nearly cried himself. Lily was on top of him, face down into the dirt, with Harry still between them. His wife jumped off of him, cooing at their son, murmuring apologies against his head for squishing him between heaving sobs. James drank in the sight of them for a while, both red-faced and weeping, before he swung in to wrap them both in a hug, light-headed with relief. They stayed like that until Harry’s breathing slowed between them and Lily was sagging against him, exhausted.
“Where the hell are we?” He asked. It seemed to be the edges of a beach somewhere because he could hear the ocean lapping at the shore, but around them were barren trees so densely packed he couldn’t make out from which direction the sound was coming.
“The Cottage.” Lily murmured. “We’re at the Cottage.”
“How?” James asked, burying his face in her hair and breathing. The whole world was silent around them; so quiet that James wasn’t yet convinced they weren’t dead. It felt fantastical to be alive, here, with his wife and his son, safe. His body was vibrating with energy and paranoia – the flickering light in the back of his head reminding him that he still didn’t have his wand.
The Cottage may have fallen into disrepair over the decades but it wasn’t unknown in these parts.
Don’t be an idiot, Potter. He reminded himself. You’re not safe yet.
“Portkey.” Lily explained, trembling. “I made one of Harry’s old blankets a Portkey to the Cottage. Just in case.”
That’s why she pushed me in the closet, James thought, eyeing the small blue fabric lying only a few feet from them. That’s why she wouldn’t let me throw anything out.
James pulled her even closer though it felt impossible, using one large hand to cradle the back of his son’s now-sleeping head. Lily turned her head to him and he kissed every inch of skin he could reach. Lily was still crying against him in quiet, steady rivulets.
“You brilliant woman,” He babbled, unable to stop kissing her. “You wonderful, brilliant woman how did I get so lucky? I’m the luckiest sod in the world, the absolute luckiest; you’re bloody brilliant.”
Lily choked something like a laugh out. “Took you long enough to figure out, Potter.”
“I can’t even—how did you figure it out? The Fidelius doesn’t allow for Apparition.”
“A Portkey isn’t Apparition, is it? I just found a loophole in the Charm: a one-time, one-way Portkey.”
“One-time?”
Lily took a shuddering breath, “James, love, I would really love to explain this to you but—”
“You’re right,” said James, helping her to her feet. “We need to move. I don’t know where the Cottage is from here, but we should get there.”
“Let’s just Apparate to Sirius’ apartment.” Lily suggested.
James shook his head. “We don’t know what’s happened to him, love. Death Eaters could be staking out his and Remus’ place.”
Lily seemed to realize something, going even whiter. “Oh, Merlin, James – Peter.”
“I know.” Hooking his arm over her shoulder, James pulled her closer to his side, staring through the forest blankly as Lily squeezed out a few more tears. There was no telling what they’d put Peter through. Tortured screams echoed in James’s skull; he wondered if Peter resented them for making him Secret Keeper, at the end.
He vowed revenge, just then. They would pay for what they put his mate through.
But right now, he had to get his family to the Cottage.
It was the safest place until they could figure out what to do next. Of course, nowhere was really safe – they’d known that since the beginning – but James hadn’t felt it so acutely until then, with his house turned to so much rubble, his best mate dead, and his family very nearly lost.