A/N: I know some of you may wonder what's going on. Why does this fic have the same exact name as another and same description? Well I had a plan to post this one-shot in like 20 different parts but I'm too lazy so this is the full 20k words. Because the summary is kind of vague, I will tell you the brief overview of the story. This is a post-Hogwarts Lily/James story and is basically just kind of snapshots of their life together and them taking on the troubles of adult life and the ever pending war. So, if that interests you, please keep reading. It was completely and totally inspired by the song The Cave by Mumford and Sons, so I definitely recommend listening to that sometime. Sorry for this awfully long author's note, I'm almost done. Thanks to Debbie for being my beta and editing my horribly long and rambling story, love you doll(: Please be warned that this story IS rated T, but it does not have any descriptive sex scenes, it only suggests it. This also has implied character death and loads and loads of angst to come, so if that's not your thing, don't read. But for these first few chapters, it will be all fluff so have at it.

ANY TMHTF READERS: Your update is coming sometime this weekend, never fear. Sorry it's been so long!

"So come out of your cave walking on your hands, and see the world hanging upside down." –The Cave, Mumford and Sons

And god, they were like the sun and moon, she shined so bright and he followed in her path. Maybe he didn't shine as brightly but he glowed and that's all that mattered. And as she rose, he fell and they were in sync and maybe they didn't realize it before, but opposites attract and hate can turn into love so quickly. Because he was night and she was day and together they mixed to form the perfect blend of early morning sunrises and late evening sunsets. It was as simple as the touch of the fingertips or the brush of their shoulders that erupted inside of them and suddenly night and day weren't so clear anymore. It was so much fighting and screaming and getting the last word because they were James and Lily and that's what they did. So, when it turned into kissing and touching and just plain old loving it was something that couldn't be described in so little words. It was the dew on the tips of the grass and the orange leaves in the fall, a beautiful but completely inexplicable sight. It was when the sun touched the earth and when the moon was full, it was everything good in the world and the obliviousness of the bad.

But the bad isn't something that can be ignored- it overtook them- even as they tried to stay strong. Because she wasn't the sun and he wasn't the moon, they were merely mortals with a few useless sticks and the claim of magical powers, and even their love couldn't sustain everything thrown at them. There were those few moments of love intertwined with the hate, a few moments of the sweet sound of their souls meshing together and the things they discovered together. Because he was James and she was Lily and they were really only two teenagers madly in love.

a home

"Can't you see that it's just raining, there ain't no need to go outside." –Banana Pancakes, Jack Johnson

She remembered the first day of summer so clearly. They were eighteen years old, so young and so happy with the thoughts of war nonexistent for the time being. Their hands were clasped together so tightly is almost hurt, but pain wasn't even an option when she was with him. They'd discussed it countless times over the year but here it was: it was so real now, stepping into their own flat, their own home together. His heartbeat fell in tune with hers, as did the echoes of their footsteps as they climbed the stairs, reaching the sixth floor, because they really couldn't afford anything lower. And fuck if the flat was tiny or if the walls had a few holes or maybe if the air conditioner didn't work, because this was theirs. And no one could take that away from them.

Lily had waited so long, so fucking long. She had denied it for so long, but once she was with him there was no going back. It was like one moment she couldn't stand the bloke and then suddenly she couldn't get enough. Because James, with his messy hair and gorgeous hazel eyes had so quickly become her everything and god did that scare her. She hadn't signed up for this. She hadn't signed up for the hurt that ran through her veins when she hadn't seen him for the few days or those goddamn butterflies that exploded through her stomach every ten seconds he was there. She hadn't signed up for falling so madly in love with a boy she barely knew. And the steady, drumming beat of her pulse sky-rocketed the second he grasped her hand or gave her that smile that just crawled inside of her and made a space for itself in her heart.

With a giggle and a tug, she pulled him inside the empty flat, with its bare white walls and sterile smell, and pushed him against the door, capturing his lips with her own. It didn't last long, for she couldn't stop giggling and smiling and just plain laughing out loud because it was theirs.

"Our home," he whispered to her in that husky voice he knew got her all hot and bothered and hearing him say it out loud made her feel like the world turned just for them, that maybe the world was overrun with hate and fear and death but right here, this moment was the only thing that mattered. So she pulled him in again, grasping his collar with sweaty and nervous hands as she just tasted him and this new life she was starting with him. He tasted like the tangy sugar quills and a cool glass of lemonade on a hot day. He tasted of memories and thoughts and just little bits of life that she had experienced with him. He tasted like home and everything that came with it.

"Let's get our stuff moved in so we can christen our new home," he murmured once she had pulled away again and god, she had never seen James work that hard or fast in her life. With the flick of their wands and the cardboard boxes that reminded her of the attic back home, they hauled their stuff in. Sweat formed on her brow as she tried to lift the last box, struggling to carry it up the last step. Refusing to turn to magic or James for help, she finally dragged it inside, just as James was pulling the sheets onto the bed and smoothing out the covers. She watched him, even more a perfectionist than her, as he tucked the sheets under the mattress and plumped up the pillows one more time. Chuckling at his OCD-ness, she walked over behind him, placing her hands on the backs of his shoulders, and leaned up to kiss his ear.

"Now, Mr. Potter, why would you do that?" she muttered, before hopping up, forming a cannonball and landing haphazardly onto the just made bed.

"Lily," he cried, as his brows furrowed at the crinkles in the sheets, "You're messing it up." Rolling her eyes at his obliviousness, she sat up and grabbed his hands before pulling him on top of her.

"Think about how messy it'll be once you help me," she giggled, before grabbing the front of his tee shirt in her fingers and yanking his mouth down to hers. And suddenly, clothes were flying and it was skin on skin and lips on lips and she screamed his name. James James JAMES, she cried over and over again as they made love. And she thought that that is the first real time, the first time that they really made love and not just fucked. Now, she felt this physical need to be near him, to be with him in every way she could. It was tangled limbs and parts where she didn't know where he ended and she began because they weren't even two people there, they were just James&Lily. And after it was over and their stomachs were rumbling for food, for they hadn't even eaten dinner, she just curled up into his arms, as they were both slicked with sweat.

"I love you," she said, and even though it wasn't the first time, it's the first time she had said it in their home. She repeated it, "I love you." And again, "I love you."

"God, you're beautiful," he crooned, his long and slender fingers brushing her hair, then her face, just stroking up and down her cheek bone. They sat there for a while, just murmuring sweet nothings and just being. And Lily knew that the next day it would all come back, the newly joined Order and the Death Eaters but right now she was okay just ignoring it. She was okay with it, as long as it wasn't here and now.

And that night, she fell asleep in his arms, as they enclosed around her and she buried her face in his bare chest, she knew the unbreakable joy she felt from her toes all the way up to her head was because she had finally found it. She had found her home and it was with James.

a memory

It seems like something out of a storybook, that night, when she followed him out into the courtyard in the dark of night, way past curfew. She convinced herself she was following him just to make sure he was all right, before scurrying off, keeping an eye on him but making sure she didn't venture too close. And when she stepped out into the warm spring night, a slight breeze pulled at her tucked in shirt and Mary Jane shoes and she didn't know why. Following him for what felt like hours, though was only minutes, he finally turned around, and peered at her with skeptical eyes. Motioning for her to join him, a slight blush adorned her cheeks, as she had been caught. With a quick glance around, she darted up to where he was standing before their footsteps fell in sync.

Tear stains painted his face, hiding in the deep crevices not many others would have seen. Luckily, she had spent years studying him, watching and waiting and yelling and screaming at him, to know when something was wrong. She hadn't need to ask though, merely taking his hand, finding it in the darkness of the night and holding on tight. He didn't question her motives, or sneak a snarky comment in there, or even smirk a bit; just kept with the same pace, his breathing heavy along with his eyelids. The pair finally arrived at a small stone bench, before sitting down, hands still intertwined. The obscure sky was the backdrop to their night, the stars shining bright as the only true survivors in the dark war. Everything seemed to be at a complete hush, the world slowly stopping its hurried pace, the earth only spinning for the two, hopelessly in love teenagers, too scared to admit it.

"You're afraid," she stated, not needed to ask the question. He gripped her hand harder now, almost like he was afraid she would run off before answering.

"Not of dying, no."

In a whisper, as she was too scared to speak of anything over that without breaking into sobs, she replied, "Then what of?"

"Dying, it can't really be that bad. I'm scared of you dying. I'm terrified of Sirius or Remus or Peter, or anyone I love dying, without me going first." His voice showed signs of dismay and confusion, and she could tell there was more. "But I'm absolutely petrified and horrified and deathly afraid… of killing. Taking a life, that's the Death Eaters' job, not mine. I don't want to be like them." He sat there with a solemn look on his face, eyes set at one point, not moving. His grip on her hand had been released, now it was like a corpse, cold and unmoving.

Standing up, she removed herself from him, but he did not register what had happened. Muttering some spells under her breath, and praying to Merlin that it would work, for it was quite difficult Transfiguration, she waved her wand, turning a tiny stone statue into a little old radio. Turning the dial to her favorite station, as well as the volume all the way up, music came from the tiny machine. Though it was rough sounding and filled with static, at least it was something. His head jerked up at the noise, and a ghost of a smile crossed his lips.

"Really, Lily? Out of all the stations you pick the one playing My Magic Lady? The Flobberworm Project is a horrible band." She giggled a bit as he made fun of her music choice, happy to see she could get some sort of reaction from him.

A wide smile was pressed onto her face. "Well, if you have such amazing music choice, why don't you pick a station," she told him, handing the radio to him. After a few minutes of static on most of the channels, he smiled as he found one he liked. "You like Wands with Regard? They're my favorite band," She said, as a soft melody came from the tiny machine, the static almost completely gone. Holding out his hand, she cautiously accepted it, before he pulled her into a soft embrace, slowly moving back and forth.

"Sorry, that I freaked out on you," he told her, shrugging his shoulders in an apologetic way. The hurt and pain still lingered in his eyes, back in the depths of the hazel irises. She ignored the fact, deciding from here on out, the night would be perfect, no more thoughts of the horrible war and death and Voldemort. It would be just her and him, dancing in the moonlight, being teenagers. One question lingered in the back of her mind though.

In soft, nervous voice, Lily asked the question which had been on her mind since the beginning of the term, since seventh year had started, "Why do you hate me?"

James suddenly tensed up and stopped swaying, pulling back to look in her eyes. "What?" His voice was full of surprise, and something along the lines of frustration or anger. Her deep green eyes turned confused.

"Well, I mean, you haven't talked to me since we became Heads together, and, well, you, um, stopped asking me out and you never look at me," Lily stuttered, before continuing, "I mean, I think this has been the first real conversation we have had since Sixth Year that didn't involve you asking me a question about the prefects schedule. And I would understand, if you want me to leave or never talk to you again, 'cause of all the horrible stuff I said back in fifth year, but James, please, forgive me." Suddenly, she burst into tears, her short, awkward monologue over, shaking and sobbing for the boy she had grown to love, who had gotten over her at the worst possible time. Pulling her into a tight hug, he rubbed her back while whispering again and again into her ear, "I don't hate you, Merlin, I could never hate you." Lily continued to sniffle, relishing the time she was spending in his arms.

Heaving back to look into her eyes once more, he brought his hand up to her face to brush the tears away and say, "Lily, I don't hate you. Merlin, this is insane. I have liked you for five years, I stopped talking to you because I thought that was what you wanted. I was trying to get over you, to be honest. I tried so goddamn hard, but Lily… it's always been you." Donning the lopsided grin he so often wore, he waited for her reaction.

"James! Are you kidding me? I spent the last three months of my life pining away for you, while you still fancied me? Do you know how annoyed Alice got with me for all the times I talked about you, over and ov—mm." Lily's rant was cut short by the feeling of James' lips on hers. Throwing her arms around his neck, she replied enthusiastically, opening her mouth and pulling him close. His hands tightened around her waist and he lifted her off the ground, making them the same height. Threading her fingers through his unruly raven hair, she slipped her tongue in his mouth and let out an embarrassing squeak as he removed his mouth from hers and set her onto the ground. A satisfied smirk decorated his face, while a deep red blush rushed to Lily's cheeks.

"You have no idea how long I've waited to do that," he said, earning a smack on the side of the head before she pulled him close again, and continued their dance. The air was crisp and their hearts were soft as they swayed to the beat of the moonlight sky and a fairytale night.

a note

"The sun goes down, the stars come out and all that counts is here and now. My universe will never be the same, I'm glad you came."-Glad You Came, The Wanted

It wasn't some big gesture of love, like the time James sang to her at the top of his lungs in the Great Hall or proposed in fourth year, but it meant so much more. It showed her he wasn't doing it for someone else, to put on a show, but rather to make her day. They had lived in their flat for two months now, two months of fried eggs in the morning cooked by James and some sort of burnt meal in the evenings (everyone knew Lily couldn't cook to save her life). Two months of Lily flitting around the house when she was off and two months of her coming home complaining about some Muggle who spilled coffee on her again. Two months of kisses on the forehead when James got home from his part-time job at the Daily Profit; two months of emergency owls that came from the Order, which was a full time job within itself.

It wasn't the ideal job, working at the small coffee shop right down the street (though it was locally owned and quite well-known around the area), but the Ministry wasn't hiring Muggle-Borns and she had to make money somehow. James refused to take all the money his parents were offering though he took enough for the two to sustain their lifestyle. All those hopes and dreams she had when she was a child, how she dreamed of somehow doing good for the world were slowly diminishing as she realized that no one wanted her.

So when Lily woke up one morning, the bed cold and the air empty of the smell of sizzling sausage, she assumed the worst, because Lily was paranoid about the war and that is what she did. Bolting up right and grappling around, feeling for any sign of the warm body she had been wrapped in the night before, her hand hit a small slip of paper on the pillow beside her. Rubbing her groggy eyes with her bitten nails and calloused fingertips, she held it up closer to her eyes and it slowly came into focus. Written in the tiny script, black ink smudged on the sides of the torn parchment, Lily was taken back to the time of ink stained hands and late night homework when James would pester her in the common room. It took her back to sixth year, when she had dropped her ink in the hallways and watched it splatter onto the floor of the corridors. It took her back to the look on James' face when he saw her down there, trying to collect the fragments. It took her back to the deliberating expression he had before finally giving in and stooping down to help her pick them up.

Her eyes focused once more on his messy scrawl and read.

I had to leave early, an emergency at the Daily Profit, something about the pictures not moving. Just thought I'd leave you this so you won't worry. I know what you thought when you woke and realized I wasn't there, so take a deep breath. Nothing happened. Lily, stop worrying. Just go… just go do something spontaneous. Your entire life doesn't need to planned out, love.

I love you, you are beautiful and wonderful and loved, and your talents aren't being utilized at that bloody coffee shop, I know. So use them somewhere else then.

It didn't hit Lily until now how well he knew her. How he knew the thoughts running through her head, how he saw how unhappy she was working at that 'bloody coffee shop'. But god, did he know every inch of her, everything running through her head and every piece of her puzzle. So when she got up that day and pulled on her coffee-stained apron and pulled her flaming hair into a ponytail, she slipped the note into her pocket, running her finger over the jagged edges where he had ripped it and onto the ridges where the quill pressed a bit too hard into the parchment.

Do something spontaneous, she thought to herself on her jaunt down to her work, as her converse hit the hard pavement and she dodged the other pedestrians on the roads. It ran through her mind as she served the grumpy old man demanding for his scones, while she repeated over and over again they were out. It again popped up as the coffee pot slipped from her clumsy grasp and smashed onto the floor, the shards of glass repelling off the ground and away from each other like opposite ends of magnets. When she was walking home though, the late evening sky blended into that perfect red color, a blood red color, and it finally hit her head first what she needed to do.

And suddenly, she just had this urge, this urge to paint that blood red color somewhere, anywhere, to paint the world that color, not to spread the idea of blood and death but rather bravery and sacrifice; to paint the city red because maybe then people wouldn't be so hypocritical and biased and discriminatory. Maybe if they were all red, if they all saw that they bled the same color, no matter what blood status, they could see how similar all of the wizards were. Not even the wizards, every living person on this planet bleeds red, every person, and goddammit, Lily wanted to show them.

So when she got home, gripping the slip of paper in her clenched hand and soaking up every word on it, she kissed James on the cheek and started dinner. And when night hit and the sky was a dark, an unforgiving black, she slipped from James' arms, pulling on an old painting shirt and a pair of James' Quidditch shorts before walking out the front door and into the cold streets of London. After hours and hours, with red paint stained on her limbs and sweat running down her face, as well as an empty can of paint sitting in the dumpster in the back alley, she slithered back into the house. After climbing out of the dirty clothes and throwing them in the hamper, she crawled back into bed and to her boyfriend's arms, where she belonged. The red paint that had not yet dried bled onto the sheets and even onto James himself but Lily couldn't find it in herself to care. She was much too tired and overjoyed with herself.

And when the sun raised the next morning and again that blood red color showed in the sky, James pulled open the curtains, wondering where the red paint on Lily and his body and the bed came from, and immediately knew. Because there, across the street on the opposite building were large bold letters, printed neatly and carefully on the brick building for everyone to see.

It read: We all bleed the same blood. The only difference is that yours is filled with prejudice.

a morning

"If heaven and hell decide that they both are satisfied, illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs. If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks, then I'll follow you into the dark." –I Will Follow You Into the Dark, Death Cab for Cutie

The windows were thrown open, the air a sweltering ninety degrees at only eight in the morning, as the weather forecasters claimed it would only get worse with the ticks of the clock hand. Lily rolled over in bed and flipped her pillow, trying to get comfortable before sighing and giving up; knowing that she wouldn't be able to sleep until the air conditioner was fixed.

"James?" she called, but stopped herself when she heard the water in the bathroom running, assuming he was just taking an early shower; he didn't need to be at work for another few hours. Heaving her body from the bed and adjusting her bra and panties, she padded into the tiny kitchen in her bare feet, before grabbing a few pieces of bacon from the freezer and placing them on the counter to thaw.

She recounted her steps then, turning to walk back into the bedroom and swinging open the door to their loo. A humming was coming from behind the curtain to a song Lily wasn't quite familiar with.

"Love, it that you?" called James, his humming stopping and his voice echoing off the walls of the hard tiles.

"No, it's Voldemort. Of course it's me, silly." Lily was stripping down now, not that she had much to take off, before pulling open the shower and hopping in with him, sighing in relief as the cool water hit her face.

James made room for her, stepping over to the side as she rubbed her fingers over her eyes, washing away the night sand that had formed in her eyelids as she was in a slumber. He stepped forward again and wrapped his sudsy arms around her bare body and buried his face into her hair, letting his wet fringe fall onto her face. It had become this ritual of sorts for them, nothing sexual or romantic or something of the type, but rather a domestic practice which had slowly become an everyday thing. She would wash his hair and he would condition hers and they'd just talk for a bit and get away from all other things, no other noise but the soft ring of their voices and the pounding of the water.

"Why are you up so early, anyway? You don't have work for a few hours," stated Lily as his fingers worked through her thick and curly locks, which cascaded down her back, stopping a few inches below her breasts.

There was a pause, before he replied, "Order mission, Dumbledore owled me a few hours ago and asked me to meet him at Frank's place at nine; something about a raid." Lily hummed in response, trying to cover up the worries that entered her thoughts at the mention of a mission. They hadn't gone on one where they had been apart from each other yet, and here he was acting like it was no big deal; like she wouldn't be worrying every other second.

When they were stepping out of the shower though, soap washed away but nerves lingering, Lily recognized this click in her. It came fast, and out of the blue, but she suddenly realized that she wanted to marry James. The little things they did for each other, all the little things they knew, like how Lily pulled out the food for it to thaw or James stepped out of the way when Lily walked in. It was like they were somehow connected, somehow so close to each other it had become second nature to care for the other. And god, maybe they were still teenagers and maybe she hadn't thought it through but she loved him more than anything she had ever known. And for god's sake, there was a fucking war going on out there, and they couldn't afford to wait much longer. Hell, even Alice had tied the knot last month, in July, with Frank.

"I want to marry you," blurted out Lily as she clasped her bra in the back, the words flying from her mouth. Damn, why did she always have to say exactly what she was thinking? She paused, wanting to smack herself in the head, because what would he think? They hadn't even been dating for a year and here she was crying out marriage proposals. "Oh god, James, just uh… disregard that last statement and uh…" She stuttered off, unsure what to say, her face flushed red as she shifted her gaze off the carpeted floor and onto her open mouthed lover.

With just a few strides, he was there, one hand on her face, the other on her hip. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "You're scared, I can see it. I can see the worry and nerves and butterflies in your stomach, don't underestimate me and how well I know you. Every single day since I was fourteen have I wanted to hear you say that, Lily, don't ever doubt that. But not like this, not because you're scared of this war and of one of us not making it."

A sob racked through her body and she fell into his arm. He staggered back, before falling back onto the bed and just holding her. He stroked her wet hair as she curled up into his side and just let out all of her sadness and frustrations.

"It's just…" she started once her tears had slowed, "When my dad died a few years ago, I was a mess. I didn't leave the bed for days, I cried constantly; I couldn't even sleep. My dad and I barely talked, we were the farthest thing from the best of friends. We discussed school and college and all the things he wanted for me but I would never live up to because I was a witch. James, it killed me inside when he died. You… you are the most important thing to me, the most important thing I've ever had. It scares the shit out of me, James, it scares the shit out of me how hard and fast I fell but the thought of you… the thought of you dying scares me even more."

Dried tears were etched onto her face, carving a path for so many more to come, as he just shushed her cries once more and comforted the girl he loved. He rubbed circles into her palm and into her back, calming her again and again.

"Well, I think there is an easy solution then." She nodded her head, asking for him to continue. "I just won't die."

Letting out a tired laugh, she retorted, "I'm not sure you have much control."

"Lily," he called, looking toward her; hazel and emerald meeting, joining together to form sun-grazed grass and long stretches of beach sand. "When you die, I will be at your side. When you die, I do too."

"When you die, I do too," she repeated after him. It wasn't some promise of suicide or a death sentence, but more a promise to each other, a confirmation of how they felt. When one soul was lost, so was the other, no matter if the other's body still roamed the earth.

So, when he came back that night, covering in scratches and bruises, but thankfully still in one piece, she pulled him close and kissed him hard, afterwards whispering to him, "When you live, I do too."

a dinner

"So, Lily, who was that dashing man who walked you to work this morning? Was that the infamous James?" asked Bea as she dashed from behind the counter over to a corner table and poured the grumpy man sitting there another cup of coffee, which he drank completely black.

"Yes, that was James," Lily giggled, before tightening her apron and taking the order of the two teenage girls at the counter. Grabbing two muffins from behind the counter for them and wrapping them in waxy paper, Lily dropped them in the paper bag, took their money, and smiled her best server smile. It was days like these where she wished she could just walk out, these days that repeated over and over like a scratched record, always the same boring routine. And she would, she would if it didn't mean becoming unemployed. She would if it didn't mean not being able to help support herself and James. She would if it didn't mean leaving Bea alone.

Swinging her arm around Lily's shoulder, the middle aged woman smiled her crinkled smile, the skin beside her eyes wrinkling happily, saying, "What a cutie you captured, darling."

"Well, to be fair," explained Lily, "He was the one who captured me. And I put up a fight, don't you doubt that." Laughing giddily, she grabbed a sponge and wiped down the front counter of stains and crumbs.

"Oh, I quite believe that, you are a stubborn one, just like my boy," Bea called fondly, now bustling around and picking up the left over plates and glasses off the empty tables.

"How is… what's him name? Finn? Yes, how is Finn doing?" questioned Lily.

"Fine, fine, he's loving the university, but I can't say I don't miss him." Lily glanced over at the motherly figure, the one who had taken her in when she first applied for the job, and saw the lonely look in her eyes; how she had to come home every day to an empty house, with the memories of a husband who had long passed away and a son who was off on his own.

"Bea, do you want to come have dinner with me and James tonight? Now, you know I'm not the best chef, but James sure is. I swear, the boy hadn't touched a stove in all his eighteen years and the moment we get into our new flat he's the next big chef. There's nothing he can't do." Lily now realized she was rambling, nervously hoping Bea would agree to come. Her approval of James surprisingly meant a lot to Lily. It was nice to have some person who didn't know about all the extra strings that came along with the relationship and the Wizarding world; someone who she could just talk to without feeling guilty that her attention wasn't all focused on the war.

"Oh Lily, I couldn't impose on you like that! Dinners only a few hours away, he won't have anything prepared," she worried, being her usual caring self.

"Don't worry about it; I'll call him right now! So… you'll come?" Lily needed this, hopefully and desperately. She needed the approval, she needed someone to see it. She wanted Bea to see how happy they were; she wanted James to meet the woman who had practically become her mother over the past few months.

"If you'll have me, then of course!"

And so, that night, there was a knock at the door, only an hour after both women's shifts had ended. They had parted ways after work, deciding to get ready for the dinner at their own places before Bea would come over to James and Lily's home. And with the windows thrown wide open, for they still hadn't fixed the goddamn air conditioner, the knocking echoed through the tiny little house; flowing through the sitting area and connected kitchenette.

"Coming," cried Lily from the kitchen, situated in James arms as he helped tip the spoon up to her mouth to taste his concoction. "Love, try to behave yourself, okay?"

Laughing, he replied, "When do I ever not behave myself, my dear Lily flower?"

"Oh god, you pick now to turn into Sirius?" she called over her shoulder as she reached the door, turning the doorknob and swinging it open to reveal Bea with a platter of homemade cookies resting on her palm.

"Bea," she greeted with a nod, then ushering her in with the wave of an arm.

"I brought us some dessert, I hope that's okay." Lily led her through the sitting room and into the kitchen, where the small table sat; the dishes and silverware already set out.

"Did I hear dessert?" asked James excitedly, just as a puppy would yip when his owner was bringing the treats. Pulling the pot that was on the stove off the burner and onto the counter, he wiped his hands on one of the dish rags and walked over to the two women standing at the doorway.

"Hello Bea, nice to meet you, I'm Lily's boyfriend, James," he introduced, pulling her in for a light embrace; one that she obviously wasn't expecting. Letting out a chuckle, she patted him on the back, holding her cookies out to the side so they wouldn't get crushed. "You all can sit down, I'll have dinner on the table in just a moment."

Throughout the dinner, James smooth talked and charmed Bea, telling her stories of pranks and school days (conveniently leaving out that magic was somewhat involved); Lily couldn't help but smile. Here, in a world filled with hate for her and those she loved, with a crappy job and a broken air conditioner, living in the smallest flat known to mankind, she was surrounded by people who cared. She had James, who could make any situation seem so much less dire, so much less stressful by the sound of his ringing laughter. Lily had Bea, who encouraged her, who helped her escape from the wizarding world for a bit; where she didn't have to worry about anything but the coffee stains in her work shirt. She had Sirius and Remus and Peter and Alice and so many people who loved her enough that she could burst.

And there, in the sweltering heat and the tiny flat, she couldn't imagine anything better. After cookies were eaten and Bea was gone and James and her had climbed into bed, letting the coolness of the night wash over them, she grasped for his hand.

"Thank you," she whispered, "for tonight; for making such a good first impression." When she had walked Bea home, to her small house just a few blocks over, Bea had confessed a few things.

"Lily, I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed tonight. You, you are such a beautiful, wonderful girl, and I honestly don't know why you are stuck working my little coffee joint. You could do so, so much better."

"Bea, the universities… they were never for me. Where I grew up, after seventeen, we were just done with schooling."

"But why not get a better job, why not do something you love? Lily, I can tell you aren't happy there, at the shop."

"It's not that simple."

Silence had then occurred, a thick, awkward one as they continued on their path.

Breaking it, Bea said, "When you first told me you were living with your boyfriend, I was worried Lily, I won't deny it. What, with you being so young and so naïve about the world around you. But tonight, seeing you and James, I realized how much you must love him. The way you two acted, more as one person then two, goodness Lily, you're in for a wild ride. But Lily, it's worth every second. And if that means working a crappy coffee shop job or living in a flat with no air conditioning, so be it, but it's worth it. It's worth the way that boy looks at you, like you're his entire world. I'm speaking from experience."

"I'm scared."

"Don't be, he's not going anywhere and neither are you."

"Of course," responded James, bring their entertained hands up to his mouth and placing a soft kiss on the back of hers.

"If I could just stay here forever, in this bloody little place with this bloody little job in this huge bloody world, I would. Because I would get to spend forever with you." And it wasn't like they were there, on that world anymore, but more like floating up in space; floating among the stars as they dreamed of stopping time.

"You already have me forever."

The clock never stopped, no matter how slowly the world seemed to be turning just for them. Because the tick of the clock is one thing that would always be reliable, just the like the moon rotating around the earth. And at times, it was a source of comfort while others it held that of a mocking tone. No matter how much changed on earth, no matter who was there and who was not, the clock would keep ticking and the tides would continue to roll in. Maybe, for now though, they could just pretend. Because she was the sun and he was the moon and maybe if they wanted to they could just stop turning, just have one moment of peace, where the sky meant the ocean and the waves stopped rising.

Maybe.

a drawing

"Lily," gasped James, as she opened the scratched up door to their flat, covered with mud and dirt, but god, alive; did anything else even matter? He swept her into his arms, twirling her around once, before setting her back onto the ground. Pulling back, he just looked at her for a few minutes, stroking her long red hair and just staring into her eyes; trying to find the girl he had known, before she had left. Here, she looked tired and guilt stricken and scared, and maybe a bit more of the light had disappeared in her eyes, as it did every day, but god, she was alive. "Go… go get a shower, get into some clean clothes, and then I can't wait to hear about it."

Nodding, not really able to speak, just so happy to be home, she meandered into the bathroom, turning up the shower to a boiling hot temperature, before stripping off her hardened and dirt covered clothes. She stepped in, letting it wash over her, letting it wash away the mud and the grim and the horrible, horrible things she had seen. How she would un-see the bloodied bodies of the Muggles who had been murdered, of the Order members who had lost their lives trying. Any time a spell was shot forward, with intent to kill, she could be the target, she could be the victim. It scared her, it scared the fuck out of her. Maybe she was selfish or maybe she was just filled with fear, but she was scared of dying; not wanting to cause pain to others around her if she did.

When her lids got heavy, her eyes begging to be shut, she would blink them once, as fast as possible, because if they stayed shut for any longer, the images returned. The screaming and the flashes of light and the smell of freshly spilt blood and singed skin; all of them encompassing her mind, as they poked and prodded at her sanity. It had been the first mission she had gone on without James and it had been the first mission that this had happened; this unfathomable nightmare that stayed with her off of the battle field. Once she had climbed out and into her bra and knickers, she walked over to James' dresser, right next to her vanity, and rummaged through it, before finding one of his old Quidditch jerseys, still quite too big for her even though he had outgrown it just last year. She took a deep breath in, smelling his cologne that lingered on it, smelling the scent of just pure James. Sliding on her slippers, she padded out into the sitting room, arms wrapped around her body, where the god-knows-how-old floral loveseat sat, with James perched on it. His hand moved furiously, along with his eyes, as he scratched down whatever he was working on, his fingers never taking a break; the quill tip on the parchment at all times, unless it needed to be dipped back into the ink.

Lily watched him, his heart intent on writing whatever he needed to get down, seeming that if he waited too long, maybe it would all just fly from his head. His glasses were sliding down his nose, he messy raven hair flopping in his face, and his pink tongue poking out the side of his mouth, much reminding her of the days in school, where he would viciously be trying to finish an essay due the next day in class. Tip-toeing back out of the room, she grabbed her sketchbook from one of the beat-up drawers in the kitchen, as well as a pencil, and re-entered. This time, though, he looked up from his work, a huge smile spreading across his face as he placed the parchment down on the coffee table; making room for her on the seat.

"Come 'ere," he requested, patting the spot next to him.

"No, go back to what you were doing; we have time for that later. I want to draw you." Cocking his head to the side in confusion, he finally just shrugged his shoulders and picked the parchment back up, which Lily now realized was on top of his old History of Magic book. He never really did take good care of that thing, and now he was using it simply as a smooth space beneath his papers to write.

For the next hour, they sat there; James scribbling away as Lily sketched, making loose marks on the paper as she sat in a nearby chair, drawing the silhouette of his face. Now, Lily had never been the greatest artist, but she enjoyed it, and that's what counted. Usually, she would, the perfectionist she was, try to make every line match up correctly, try to get it as realistic as possible, but tonight was different. Instead of letting her head lead, she led with her hand, controlling it with her entire being instead of just her mind. And when it was over and done, she closed her sketchbook.

"Gonna let me see it?" asked James and Lily shrugged.

"Maybe someday," she chuckled, very protective of the works she did. "What were you writing? Something for the paper?"

"Nothing important," he said, "Nothing as important as you here with me, right now, after you've been gone for almost twenty-four hours."

Giggling as he grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the love seat with him before shifting down so she was laying on top of him as he lounged back, she retorted in a melodramatic tone, "Oh yes, a day, how would you survive without seeing me for a day?"

"I don't want to go a day in my entire life without seeing you. But let me tell you this, love, even if I don't see you for an entire day, hell even a week, I will think about you every moment. Every waking and dreaming moment, you are on my mind. I will always be home to kiss you goodnight."

"Do you promise?"

"Always." And with that, he pulled her lips close to his and just barely ghosted over them, before pulling back.

"Tease," she muttered. Again, he pulled her closer, this time kissing slowly and relaxed, almost languidly.

And for the rest of the night, it was like that, slow touches and relaxed motions, as they promised each other always again and again. And when Lily closed her eyes, with James' arms around her, she didn't see horrifying images anymore, but just the happily ever to come once the war was over.

"Hey James?" Lily said as they lay there on the loveseat, skin on skin, with articles of clothing hanging off the lamps and the fan, as well as scattered on the floor.

"Yeah?"

"I promise I'll always be here for you to kiss goodnight."

a wedding

"Cause it's a little bit of everything, the way you joke the way you ache, it's getting up before you so I can watch you as you wake. So on that day in late September, it's not some stupid little ring; I'm getting a little bit of everything." –A Little Bit of Everything, Dawes

It was late September when he asked her, the leaves on the few trees in London newly-auburn, the wind sweeping them away off of their safe branches. It hadn't been the way he planned, god no, but it was perfect just the same. He was tired, worked out completely, when he got home from work; his part time job at the paper slowly turning full time. The dwindling time he spent with Lily was full with tired promises of, "Maybe tomorrow"'s and "I'm just not up for it"'s. It was tiring for Lily, but she just nodded, trying to understand his quick tempers and prolonged, tired glances.

Really, it hadn't been on purpose. She wasn't snooping, she hadn't suspected it in the least; she had gone rummaging through his drawers looking for her mascara, because she had no bloody idea where the hell it went. Her own drawers were turned over, the contents spilling out onto the floor as well as the bathroom a mess. It wasn't the mascara really, but rather the idea that it was just gone. Where could it disappear to? It didn't have legs, it couldn't just get up and walk away. Well, that was, unless someone had charmed it, which seemed very unlikely. Her hands flung his belongings here and there, until they reached a small, smooth object, the shape of a cube. She pulled it out, her hands shaking as she just knew what it was. They shook and shook as she debated opening it, and suddenly she couldn't hold off any longer. With a snap, she popped it open.

Nestled inside the deep fabric was a simple, silver ring. There was no gaudy stone or diamond, no emerald that "perfectly matched her eyes". No, it was a simple silver band, so simple on the outside. Her fingers were trembling and there was a growing lump in her throat as she slowly reached forward and plucked it from the box. Cool against her fingers, she found an unexpected detail on it. Inside of the ring, engraved on the light metal was a quote, "Love is the beauty of the soul." Lily didn't know what to do, now that she had found a ring, one he had obviously put a lot of thought into. What if he was planning on returning it? What if he had changed his mind already? What if this was for someone else? No matter how inane and mindless the questions that ran through her brain were, they still came, stampeding through her like wild nifflers.

Shoving the ring back into the box and snapping it back shut, she knew she wouldn't be able to keep the secret. The awful liar she was, the minute James saw her he'd know something was up. Jumping at the sound of the door opening, she promptly burst into tears. She'd ruined everything. She heard his voice calling her, but it was so far away at the moment; a million miles away. Falling onto the bed, Lily kind of just clutched it in her hands with wide, teary eyes; still too shocked to even call him into the room.

A knock rung in the room, accompanied by James asking, "Lily, are you in there, love?" When Lily didn't respond, he pushed the door open anyway just to see her crumpled and stunned form. "Lily, what are you…" he trailed off as he spotted the little black box in her hand. His mouth opened to form words, but then closed again. He ran a hand through his dark, messy hair, forcing it to stick up even more. "I… I…" He couldn't seem to get words out either.

"I'm sorry," Lily finally gasped into the silence, "I'm so, so sorry James. I know it's a mess in here but I was looking for my mascara and…" Now she didn't know how to the finish the sentence, and ended lamely there. "Please don't be mad."

"God… I had something planned and…" he paused, and gauged her reaction again, but didn't get anything but the same horrified expression. "Shit, Lily, I'm sorry. I… I can take it back and exchange it if you don't like it or want it at all and—dammit I knew this was too soon, bloody hell, I fucked up." Lily shook her head viciously, trying to stop his words.

"Just ask me the fucking question, James."

Without a moment's hesitation, he strode over and gently took the box from her hands and placed one hand on her face, steering her gaze towards his.

"Shit, Lily, I'm sorry it had to be this way. I... I had this whole champagne glass thing planned and I was going to sing you one of those Muggle love songs you love so much and… well I just… Look, I don't care where it happens, to be completely bloody honest. I love you. I… I just love you and I can't even explain it. And it doesn't matter if we are in some fancy restaurant with expensive soups and breads or in this crappy little apartment without any air conditioner because it doesn't change anything. I've loved you since I was a fourteen year old git and I've loved you through the screaming matches and hexes and this entire war. I don't want to wait, I want to marry you, I want to start a family, I don't want this war to rule our lives. You and me, we decide our fate, not a bunch of idiots in masks. So, what I'm trying to ask is…" He held up the box and popped it open, "Will you marry me? And Lily, don't take this lightly. I want you to be completely sure, as sure as I am. Think about what you are getting yourself into. You get me, which means my need to have the bed made every morning and my grumpy mood when I haven't gotten enough sleep. It means me running my hand through my hair constantly and driving you completely insane. But I promise to do that every single day of my life, along with just plain loving you. So…will you?"

"James," she whispered, not sure she could talk above that. "I have two answers in my head. One would be yes, but I'm not going to say that." Lily's heart broke as she saw James' face drop. Her heart pounded a million kilometers per minute, as she slowly uttered the last part. "The other answer… is of course!" Tears finally freely run from her eyes as she sprung off the bed and into James' arms. Picking her up, he spun her around the room and cried too, something he rarely did. "I love you, I love you so much." He set her down, just so he could grab her hand and slowly slide the ring onto her finger, before kissing it.

"So, what kind of wedding are we having? Big, with loads of dancing and old elderly family friends?" He chuckled, adjusting his glasses which were fogged up and falling off his face.

She shook her head, "That's not what I want. I don't want a fancy-schmancy wedding where I throw some god awful bouquet back or have to listen to my great aunts bitch about their husbands. I want something small, something very small, just me and you and a few close friends in a familiar place. I don't want some boring old ceremony, I want to write my vows to you and I want to kiss you as hard as I can after I say 'I do'. I want to skip down the aisle to my favorite Beatles song and I want to make love to you for hours afterward. James, I want it to be me and you, just a couple crazy teenagers in love, making the best mistake of their lives."

"I knew there was a reason I was crazy for you!"

And so on that day in late September, with Sirius holding the legal papers, having gotten a certified license to marry up at the Ministry, they got married. It was amazing, how Dumbledore had given them permission to come back onto school grounds, letting them have the ceremony under the big oak tree that had meant so much to them. They rolled out a white, linen sheet onto the green grass, the painstakingly bright sun shining almost just for them. James stood at the end, in a white button down shirt and black trousers, as Lily had insisted rather than dress robes. Standing next to him on one side was Sirius, who would be performing the ceremony and on the other was Peter, who was looking quite nervous. Alice and Frank were perched on Sirius's other side, Alice adorned in a lilac colored summer dress, with a sweetheart neckline and a hem which fell just above her knee. Music flowed out of a Muggle record player, which was situated to the side of them and luckily worked since they were a ways of way from the castle itself. Dumbledore, Hagrid, and McGonagall watched from the sides, far enough away that they weren't quite part of the ceremony but close enough to hear the vows being spoken.

A familiar tune started playing from the record, signaling it was time. And from behind the hedges came Lily, accompanied by Remus who would be giving her away, in a long flowing dress, a pale pink which, surprisingly, didn't clash with her hair.

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night; take these broken wings and learn to fly…" Lily smiled as her favorite song played, the melody calming her racing heart as it suddenly hit her that in just a few minutes, she would be Mrs. James Potter. Just a few years ago, she would shudder at the thought; scoff at the idea of marrying him. Now, she couldn't think of anything she wanted to do more.

And, as Lily was known for, she stumbled a few times in her heels, but thankfully made it through with Remus holding her up. The entire walk down the aisle, or rather, bed sheet, was nerve racking, and she couldn't imagine what it would be like to have a large wedding, with hundreds of eyes on her. After what felt like an eternity, she reached the end, sighing a breath of relief she hadn't fallen straight on her face, and let go of Remus's arm, giving him a thankful nod, before he went to stand beside Peter.

"Dearly beloveds, we are gathered here today to blah blah blabbity blah. Yeah, yeah, forget all that crap. I think you guys had some vows you wanted to say?" asked Sirius, as everyone near chuckled at his rushing of the ceremony. It wasn't that he didn't care, though, but more that he was following the demanding couple's orders to keep it short.

"I'll go first," said James, smiling at Lily, before pulling out a napkin he had scribbled on. "I said most of what I wanted to say when I proposed, but I'll say a bit more. The truth is: I hate you. I hate your freckled ears and your bad temper and your curly mess of hair. I hate the way you always have to be right and fight me on everything. I hate how you treat me like a child; I hate how you boss me around and point your slender little fingers.

"But, Lily, by saying that, I'm saying I love you. All these things about you that get under my skin-now wait, don't give me that look, I know there are just as many things about me that get to you too—those are what makes me love you. I love the ghost of freckles all over your body and the way you stand up to people. I love your beautiful red mane and your inability to back down. I love how you take care of me and help me do what's best for myself. God, I love you with every fiber of my being, I love you more than Sirius loves pranks and Remus loves chocolate, combined." At this point, Sirius muttered under his breath, something along the lines of, 'I seriously doubt that.' "Love, you are my everything. You are my home, and when you die, I die, too. Just know this, love. I will always be home to kiss you goodnight."

They both were crying at this point, but Lily was determined to get her piece out too. Reaching into the slit on the side of her dress, she pulled out the perfectly pressed parchment she had written her vows own. There, on paper was exactly how she felt. But, she didn't want some paper version of it, she wanted real and live and now. So, with a toss, she threw it into the wind, letting it be carried away into the lands of the lost.

"James, I want you to know exactly how I feel, I don't want some version I wrote with big fancy words and without any real emotion. God, I love you. Just… we've been together for not so long, I know that. But it feels like a lifetime with you, yet also like it's gone by in the blink of an eye. And you've pointed out my flaws, and you know what you are getting when you say 'I do'. You are getting my constant bitching and moaning and my need to beat you at whatever we are doing. You are getting the girl who works at some crappy little coffee shop; you are getting a girl with so little to offer, other than her love.

"But god, can I love. My every waking moment is thinking about you, whether if I'm just wondering what you are doing or trying to memorize exactly how your voice sounds or even the smell of your cologne. I didn't believe in soul-mates or fate or anything like that before you. I didn't believe I would find someone I was so passionate about. I was wrong, because you are everything I've ever wanted and more. You are a git and completely bonkers and your sense of humor is beyond perverse. Yet you are also the bravest, most courageous and loyal person I have ever known. And together, I know we can conquer the odds and create our own fate, create a family not affected by the war."

Beautiful tears, tears of happiness and joy, flowed from their eyes, as the sun and the moon collided, into a beautiful solar eclipse. "So, do you James, take Lily to be your wife, to cherish her and be nice and shit like that?"

"I do, forever."

"And you, Lily?"

"Always."

a night

Two weeks they'd been married. Two weeks of bliss, of non-stop love and mile-wide smiles; two weeks of kisses goodnight and living their lives as husband and wife. They both wrote to their parents, telling them the news, yet neither had received a response back. Time, that's what James said, just give them time to adjust to the news; they'd warm up to the idea eventually. But still, there was no answer and Lily had started to worry.

She was the sun, so bright as she tried to please everyone. But they cried, they complained of her rays being oh so bright, so bright they were blinded by the light. And when James came around, with his dulled rays but with his gorgeous and courageous qualities, they cried about the dark, of their lack of vision because the sun had disappeared and left them with little old moon. It was a cycle, a cycle of never being able to please just the right people, of always disappointing someone. No one was prepared for when the sun and moon both went out, their combined light fading off into the distance. No one but the lovers of the world, who would clasp hands so tightly, whispering words of 'forever' and 'guidance' as they trusted one another to lead them through the darkest of times.

The comfort of her hand in his, of their rings engraved with the same beautiful message pressing together, was like its own golden ray of sunshine; falling upon the shadows and revealing the monsters which hid beneath the bed and inside the closet doors. Neither was prepared for if the other slipped from their grasp, if they were yanked apart by the monsters before their light was able to expose them. Neither prepared to ever let go.

And on the two week mark, just after the clock had struck twelve and Lily and James had buried themselves in the sheets and tangled limbs, there came a tapping at the window. Upon further investigation of popping her head from out the covers, Lily found it was their owl. Earlier, they had sent a letter to Dumbledore, telling that all had gone well and they were now back on duty for the Order, having taken a two week break for a fake honeymoon in their flat.

"James," grunted Lily, shaking the sleeping figure next to her, "James, wake up and let Merle in! James, wake up!" After vigorous prodding and poking to James bare chest, he finally gave up, and with a groan, rolled out of bed, before stumbling over to the window in a sleep-induced state and letting the bird in. Now that the bloody awful tapping had stopped, Lily flipped back over to her stomach and fell back into a light sleep. It could have been only a few minutes or even a few hours later, but she felt a warm hand on her back and a slight tickle in her ear, the smell of James enveloping her.

"Love," she murmured, voice groggy, "come back to bed." She grabbed his wrist and tried to pull him in, but upon looking upward at him, she saw he was shaking his head no.

"Lily, darling, I've got to go, there's a problem at the Order." He sounded wide awake and alert now, but Lily just nodded.

"Mhm, okay, love you."

"Love you, too."

Rustling around the bedroom was heard again, but Lily propped herself up on one elbow, asking him, "When will you be home?"

Even in the dark, she could see his smile shine through, as he walked over to the bed and pulled her in for a deep kiss, before crooning, "In time to kiss you goodnight." And with the thought, Lily fell asleep once more, her bliss restored and her mind at rest.

a visit

Lily had woken up the next morning, crawled out of bed, and made a bagel, while humming some god awful top ten hit to herself. Her mind flickered to James, wondering if he was okay, but quickly pushed the thought away, knowing it would do her no good to worry when he was fine. The early shift at the coffee shop flew by, a steady flow of customers arriving and leaving with their decaf coffees in hand. It kept her mind off of James and after it had ended, she went out with a late lunch with Bea, who had asked how her new husband was.

"I still can't believe you two eloped, you crazy kids," she giggled, shaking her head in faux frustration. "So, how is he?"

"He's actually gone for the day, on some sort of mission for his job. It can be quite dangerous, but I try not to think about it too much when he's away like this," Lily explained, before popping a bite of salad into her mouth. The chatter that surrounded them in the café was comforting, almost acting as a barrier from the outside world.

"Oh… well then I won't question you any further." Bea gave her a strange glance, almost as if she didn't believe what Lily was saying. Granted, she knew James wrote for a paper, so it might have seemed a little strange to claim his job was hazardous.

When she finally made it home, after a quick shopping outing after lunch, it was four o'clock. She wasn't quite hungry yet, but made dinner anyway, feeling as if she needed something to do with her hands so her mind didn't run. Luckily, she managed to make spaghetti without any burned noodles or sauce, though the cheesy bread did seem a little too brown. When she went to grab the plates, she realized she only needed one. She pulled out an extra anyway and set it on the table before grabbing the telephone. She dialed the memorized number and waited for it to ring. After a few piercing screeches in her ear, a click was heard and the high voice of Alice Longbottom echoed through the receiver.

"HELLO?" she cried into the phone, forcing Lily to jerk the phone away from head, her ears now ringing from the screech.

"Alice, you don't need to shout, I can hear you just fine if you talk normally," said Lily, rolling her eyes at her friend's obliviousness to Muggle technology. Sure, Lily was the one who forced her and her husband, Frank, to get one, but Lily had hoped Alice would have learned how to use it by now.

"Oh, well then, hello!" she said at a much more reasonable level. "What brings you to using this irrefutable contraption?"

"I was just wondering if you'd like to come over for dinner. I made dinner for two but James isn't home yet," she explained, crossing her fingers.

"Gosh, Lily, I'm sorry but Frank's taking me out somewhere fancy tonight and I don't want to ruin my appetite. I could just come over and keep you company, if you want, but I can't stay long." Her offer was tempting, but Lily shook her head no (even if Alice couldn't see her).

"No, I'll be fine. Maybe another time?"

"Definitely!" And with that, Lily hung up the phone and placed both plates on the table, grabbing silverware for both. Maybe James would be home soon, and she could surprise him with a warm dinner.

After Lily had gobbled down half her dinner, she could not suppress the feeling that her stomach was bottomless because of the butterflies that were fluttering in it. She grabbed a quill and parchment, addressing it to Dumbledore. It was just a quick note, asking how the mission had gone and what had happened. She knew he would reply as soon as they got back, for she scribbled Urgent on the front of the folder paper. After sending it off with Merle, she tapped her fingers nervously, unsure of what to do with herself.

Finally, she decided to just curl up with a good book and for the next few hours she stared blankly at the pages, seeing the words yet not actually reading or absorbing them. Once she arrived at the last page, she became aware of the fact she had no idea what the book was actually about. Sighing, she threw it to the side of the room and sunk down in the bed she was sitting on. There wasn't any point waiting up for him now; he'd probably just crawl in once he got home, anyway. With the flick of her wand, she turned off the lights and pulled the covers over her head, relishing the warmth they brought. The sheets were cold and she yearned for James' arms to wrap around her, for his nose and the bridge of his glasses to softly brush her hair; she needed his lips on hers.

Her dreams were silent and she slept lightly, never fully falling asleep. Her brain was screaming, its wheels turning round and round, refusing to shut up for even a moment's rest. Sometime throughout the night, much before the sun had risen, a tapping was heard. It was different from the previous night, not on glass, but rather on wood, making a dull sound compared to the ringing of beak on window. Lily's heart jumped, hoping it was James. Maybe he had forgotten his key or wanted her to come to the door. Though it was unlikely that either scenario was reality, she hoped anyway. After sliding on her robe and slippers, she stumbled to the door and held one bleary eye up to the peephole. Why was Sirius outside her apartment this late at night? Unlocking the door, she then swung it open and stepped back to let him in. She didn't notice his bloodshot eyes or tear stained cheeks, for her powers of observations were quite dim at the moment.

"Hullo Sirius, what are you doing here? Weren't you on that mission with James?" Her voice was groggy and it came out as a croak.

"Lily," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "Lily, I was on the mission with James."

The graveness in his voice shocked her out of her sleepy state and she backed up so one hand was propped up on the couch, holding her up.

"Sirius, where is he? Where is James?" Sirius bit his lip, just shaking his head slowly. "Why are you shaking your head? What does that mean? SIRIUS, WHERE IS HE?" She was screeching now, her heart practically stopped and small dots started appearing in her vision.

"I couldn't… I couldn't get there in time. Lily, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry." And in the years and years Lily had known Sirius, he did something she'd never seen. He broke down into tears.

"No. No, Sirius, this isn't funny anymore!" She yelled, before walking over to him and shoving his chest. "Sirius, it's not funny, where is James? Sirius, stop, please, where is he?" She was shaking her head now, just over and over; backing up until her legs hit the couch. She was aggravated now, she was aggravated at this god awful practical joke Sirius was trying to play with her. "IT'S NOT FUNNY!" She was pleading with him now, begging him to tell her otherwise.

"Lily," he choked out, slowly walking forward with a hand outstretched. At first, she thought maybe he wanted her to grab it, but then she saw something in his hand, sparkling as it hit the light. There, in his hand, was James' wedding ring.

"Where did you get that?" gasped Lily, as her hand shook with tremors as it raised to take it from him. Finally, Lily felt it hit her palm, its cold metal feeling searing hot against her skin, burning the flesh. It hit her then, what Sirius was telling her, hit her fully, like a bus. Her legs gave out and she toppled onto the floor, right in front of the loveseat. Sobbing and howling and screaming into the silent night, she cried. James, with his curly, crazy black hair; James, with his vivacious love for life; James, with his courage and his beauty… was gone. There was no longer a James&Lily, there weren't early morning breakfasts and kisses on the foreheads. There wasn't his smell of sugar quills and mint gum or his Quidditch-toned arms which wrapped around her body late at night. Nothing was James and everything hurt.

She wasn't sure how it happened, how she was transferred from the floor to her bed (though she just assumed that Sirius must have done it). But she just curled up into Sirius's arms, their sobs racking through them more as one person then two as they mourned and grieved. She dreamed of him that night, of his musical laughter and mile-wide smile. She dreamed of him, of everything that he was. And it was almost like he was there.

That night, the clouds covered the sky, the moon silent of its light. If anyone had looked up that night, they might even think the moon had gone out, and they wouldn't be quite false in that assumption. Because somewhere, over on the east side of London, in a shitty little apartment, the moon had gone out. It had gone out for a red head whose life had just fallen apart. Lily Evans had lost her moon. But, like it always did, the sun rose in the morning because that's what it was meant to do. No matter who was in the world when it did didn't matter, because life goes on. Life always goes on.

Always.

a letter

James,

Sirius thinks I'm crazy for writing this letter. Hell, I think I'm crazy for writing this letter, but some things need to be said that weren't before you left. They put you in the ground today, your body covered by a red sheet, for they said your body was too mangled to show at the funeral. You know what they said, they said the only way they could identify you was with the ring. The ring that we bought together, the thing to claim you are actually dead is the thing that I so preciously slid on your finger. Is that irony or just a coincidence? I don't really know, I never was the best at the English language.

I got dressed today. I haven't gotten dressed in two weeks, preferring to just stay in old sweatpants and t-shirts. I've stayed away from your Quidditch jerseys though, for they smell like you and that is just too much to handle. I got dressed in that dress you always claim makes my bum look good, but I wore it only because it's the only black thing I own. People at the ceremony kept offering me their condolences, patting me on my back and giving me hugs; their tears staining my shoulders. I wanted to scream, I wanted to tell them that their "sorry" meant nothing to me, that it didn't bring you back. But I didn't say that, I merely took a few deep breaths, like you always told me, and just nodded my head.

You are everywhere I look. You are in the bathroom, the smell of your shampoo and deodorant still lingers. I haven't got the heart to throw them away yet, so there they sit, almost mockingly. You are in the bedroom, god you are everywhere in there. Your dirty clothes still sit in the bottom of the hamper and your dresser has been untouched. Sometimes, if I concentrate hard enough, I can even still see the imprint of your body in the mattress where you used to lie every night. You are in the kitchen, with your endless supplies of crock pots and supplies that I don't even know how you managed to use them. You are the empty, clean plate that is still sitting on the table, silverware next to it, waiting for you to come home to the dinner I made. You are in the sitting room, with that ratty old couch you insisted we kept and the drawing of mine you hung up on the wall, claiming it looked exactly like your Great Aunt Rose, though it was supposed to be a portrait of Peter. You are everywhere in this shitty old apartment, and I don't know how much longer I can take it.

I can't escape the all-consuming memory of you in sleep, but that I really don't mind. When I dream of you, you aren't gone. You are alive and well, you are there guiding me through to greener pastures. I welcome sleep now, I crave it in my waking hours, just so I can see a little bit of you, still alive as ever. Sleep is my haven now, our giant king sized bed I insisted on having in our home. It's cold though, without your form. I had gotten so used to you being with me, it seems I have forgotten how to sleep well without someone else there. And in those moments, right before I fall asleep or wake up, I'm in peace. Because for those few moments that I'm actually awake, I'm not missing you, only because I have forgotten you are gone at all.

They don't leave me alone. No matter how many times I tell them I don't need a babysitter, they always stop by at least twice a day. Remus usually brings some sort of hot soup with him and usually coaxes me into eating a bit, but most of the time I just heave it back up. Peter just sits there with a downturned face and tries to make conversation, offering to microwave me some frozen dinner. Alice and Frank come by with encouraging words and force me to go through everyday activities, like showers and making the bed. I don't see the point in that, because as soon as they leave, I crawl right back in again. Sirius comes the most often though, probably because he is feeling closest to what I am. We don't say much when he comes over, he usually just wraps me in his arms and we cry together. You know, for all the crying I've done in the past two weeks, it seems like I'd be out of tears. But every time I think of you, which is about every five seconds, I just start crying again and can't stop.

God, I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts, I miss you so much some days aren't even worth getting out of my cocoon of sheets. It's unfair, it's unfair how little time I got to spend with you. Granted, it was me who turned you down for years and you don't know how much I regret that. I regret that more than anything, because if I had said yes sooner, we could have had so much longer together. It's unfair how little I got of you but how much it hurt me. Why, why did you do this to me? Why did you make me fall in love with you so fast and so hard that I can't even inhale correctly anymore, without my breath catching and the sobs starting again? You, with your gorgeous golden eyes and humor that shined through the darkest of times; you did not deserve this.

You die, I die, remember? Remember the promise we made, back only a few months ago? When we made that promise, I never expected it would hurt this much. And some days, I feel like taking my own life, but I know you didn't, still don't, want that for me. I know when we made that promise, it was a promise to love forever and to die together, no matter who was left on this earth afterward, but not to cause our own death. So I sit here and I keep on keeping on. James, where are you? When we made that promise, I know you meant it. So why am I still here when you are not? I cannot accept it James, and others may think I'm crazy but you must still be here. You must, because otherwise I wouldn't be here either. So, where are you?

You are out there, aren't you? I wouldn't be writing this letter if you weren't. James, owls have this… this sixth sense, I guess you could call it, that they know where people are all the time, they can deliver messages to almost anyone. I will know, once Merle comes back empty handed of this letter, that you are alive. I know you are James, I know it. Because in the dead of night, right before I fall into a slumber, I can feel the soft caress of a kiss on my forehead and your voice whispering, 'Goodnight, love.'

And I know I must seem crazy now, with this insane idea and I'm getting my hopes up for nothing. But if you are out there, maybe on Earth or maybe floating up in the stars, I want you to get this. Maybe you are up there, looking down on me, because god, James, you were born to be an angel. You were born to fly with those superior, to spread your ideas and love throughout the world, to illuminate the moon at night. So James, if that's what you are doing at this very moment, please know how much I love you. Know that I love you more than anyone or anything, and while I'd do anything to get you back, I guess I must let you go. But please James, if you are out there somewhere, give me a sign. Give me a sign to not give up hope.

With every drop of love in my body,

Lily

Lily attached the letter to her owl, tears falling and staining the delicate paper and running into the ink. Perching the owl on her arm, she opened the window, and looked determinedly at Merle.

"Take this to James," she instructed, her voice cracking as she spoke his name. The owl just cocked its head, confused at what she was asking. "James!" she cried, looking pointedly at the owl this time. "James, James, take this to James!" she finally screeched, before shoving the bird off her arm and out the window, watching as its wings expanded and it flew away, obviously still confused at what Lily was asking.

She climbed in bed afterward and waited with dry cheeks, knowing that it must find him. She knew it would, she knew he would get it, no matter what. Days passed, and she slowly got herself back onto a regular diet, patiently awaiting for her owl to arrive home.

Once a week was up, she grew angry, crying even more often now as she wanted her goddamn bird to get home quicker. It finally pecked at her window two weeks later, its feathers singed and dirty, its eyes tired and bones protruding. She opened it with ease, running to grab a small bowl of treats for her bird and some water, before noticing a letter still attached to its claw. There, tied on with the same red bow she had used two weeks ago, was her letter. He didn't deliver the message; he didn't give it to James. Merle had never done that before, he had never come back without fulfilling his duties.

Lily cried that night, loud and hard, much more then she had before. Because now, she had to accept it. James was dead, he was never coming back. He was gone, he was a lost soul. And that night, once her eyes closed and she drifted into sleep, her mind was silent. For the first time in weeks, she didn't dream of him or anyone at all really. For the first time, her sleep was pitch black.

She was numb. The pain had finally grown to be too much, forcing her into a state of no feeling at all. Maybe that's the way she liked it. This way was easier, this way was a shortcut. She kept her ring on though, she slept with it on, showered with it. His was locked up in the bedside drawer, waiting for him to come home and claim it. But the sun was slowly freezing, its bright rays no longer reaching the earth or empty space where the moon once sat. The sun slowly curled in on itself, imploding in until nothing was left, the earth left a cold and dead place.

a visit

Weeks passed, then a month. And suddenly, the dark cold winter was blooming with flowers, the dew on the end of the grass not as frosted as before. But Lily's heart stayed the same, still frozen over with the memories of her beloved. She went on with the world, a slow trudge like the cars stuck in traffic rather than racing down the speedway. Work was work and home was home and the days blurred together like one blob of her life, to the point where she could barley remember anything other than the bleak wasteland she was in now. James would have been disappointed in her, the old Lily would have been too, but she was just too numb to care any longer. Order missions were the same, mindless waving of wands and deflecting spells, yet this time she didn't really care if that green light hit her. Not that she didn't try, but it wasn't as nerve racking as before. She didn't have anything to come home to now.

Sirius and Remus were there for her every need, the days when she owled them, simply stating she needed someone or maybe the days when she didn't show up to work. Bea knew to call them up, and they'd come in to find Lily refusing to get out of bed or blankly staring at the clean dinner plate still sitting on her table. Every time, they'd take her hand and help her through it, but the vacant stare never really left her eyes; it replaced the sparkle that had once shown in the green gems.

She lived though, she somehow found her way through the world; taking bites of her food here and there but mainly just pushing it around on her plate. Her mouth grew exposed and bare from the constant biting of her lower lip, the dry skin ripped off by her chattering teeth. Her hair was limp and dry, for her daily showers and vigorous washing stripped it of its natural oils, and her nails were uneven and haphazardly cut. She was living, but just barely. She was in the brink, on the brink of completely collapsing, but she never took that last step. That was, until the day, after spring had come and the weather was growing warmer by the hour, when a knocking sounded from her door. She was sipping a glass of lemonade at the kitchen table, right across from his seat, her wand lying on the kitchen counter.

"Come in," she called tiredly, not quite caring who it was. Most likely it was Remus, who would be dropping off a meal or maybe Bea who would force her to come out and have lunch with her.

"Lily, darling, how are you?" cried a voice from the entry way, arriving into the kitchen with a mighty, overpowering stride. There stood her mother, red hair piled onto her head in an elegant bun and five inch heels adorning her feet. She dragged a rolling suitcase, looking to be quite heavy and full to the brim, with Petunia trailing behind her.

"What—what are you doing here?" spluttered Lily, her surprise levels shooting through the roof. "I… I haven't seen you since…" The word funeral stuck at her lips, lingered there as she tried to form the word but just couldn't.

"Yes, yes, since the funeral. We just thought we'd check up on you, as well as bring some exciting news," gushed her mother, grabbing Petunia's arm and yanking her into the tiny kitchen and more into Lily's view. "You're sister is getting married!"

Jaw slack and eyes as wide as saucers, Lily stuttered, "Wha—what?"

"Yes," spoke Petunia for the first time, "to Vernon Dursley. I believe you met him a few times." That Lily had, with his large bone structure and pot belly, a cruel attitude to accompany his cruel and unpleasant appearance. He paired well with Petunia though, her jutting bone structure and thin as ice body balancing out that of Dursley's.

Seeing the expression on Lily's face, her mother just waved her hand nonchalantly and said, "Now, I understand this must be a hard topic for you Lily, but you've got to be happy for your sister! I'm sure James would want it."

But Lily knew he wouldn't. He would crack a joke about Vernon's whale like physique or her mother's demeaning glare being that of a dementor, he would laugh about the perfect couple that would soon be wed. But Lily couldn't say that, she could only nod and contribute a weak smile to the conversation as a reply.

Petunia spoke again, after looking around the tiny room and sneering, saying, "Since the wedding will be in the city, we thought we'd just board with you, for you seem to have extra space now." The words were harsh but the tone was harsher.

"And of course, we thought we'd help you redecorate… get all these old feelings from here so you could start fresh," offered her mother with a 500 watt smile.

"I don't want to redecorate," replied Lily, "I like it the way it is. Please, don't touch anything, don't move anything. You may stay here, but I warn you it isn't spacious, as you can see. There is only one bedroom, but you two may share it, seeing as I will take the couch for my rather unexpected guests. Please, make yourself at home, but do not move the setup of the kitchen table or rearrange any of… his things." Lily nodded at the two of them, before waltzing off into her bedroom to grab a few blankets to make the couch. Both women stood in the kitchen quite flabbergasted at Lily's attitude, not sure what it quite was. It could really be described as only one word.

Numb.

"There are other fish in the sea, darling."

It had been her mother who had spoken the words, as they sat in the sitting room discussing wedding plans. Her mother saw Lily's pained expression, the tears being forced back, and it had slipped from her lips.

"I don't want anyone else," Lily murmured, before going back to the invitation folding she was doing.

Her mother shook her head and replied, "Oh darling, it was young love. It wouldn't have lasted, you were together such a short time. Who knows what would have happened if you had given it time? James wouldn't want this life for you, one of repetition and never moving on."

"Who are you to judge our love?" cried Lily in outrage, "Who are you to say what we had wasn't real? We didn't understand it, neither of us did. But him and me, us together was as definite as the sun rising or the earth turning because I know what we had was real. I understand, mother, that you didn't approve. You didn't approve of us moving so fast, of our love which blossomed from hate and the marriage that sprung up faster than the flowers in spring. But you didn't approve because you didn't understand that I love him and that will never change just because I can't feel him here in front of me, just because I can't reach out and stroke his hand or converse with him. He was real, he was it for me, and I can't just get over someone like that, not for a very long time."

Lily couldn't grasp it, she couldn't grasp the love and the pain and everything that she felt inside of herself but god, she was angry. She was angry at her mother and sister, for being so quick to judge, to think he was as disposable, as interchangeable, as their lovers. She was angry at those around her who so freely lived their lives while she was trapped in this bubble of despair filled with memories. Mostly, though, she was angry at James. He left her, he left her when he promised he wouldn't leave and now that her eyes were rubbed dried from the constant scrubbing with the back of her hands and her nails were chewed to the nubs, she wasn't even human anymore. She was just this cluster of being that went on every day because she didn't know what else to do.

"Lily, I just want you to be happy. James would want you to be happy."

Shaking her head, she responded, "Well, stop then. You don't know what he wanted; you never stayed around long enough to find out." And with that, she walked out of her own flat, slamming the door, before falling to the ground, wrapping her arms around her knees, and crying for the first time in ages; the numbness falling away to show the suppressed pain that lay behind the veil.

Roaming the streets for hours on end, she finally arrived back at her apartment at seven, but when she opened the door to her flat, she didn't see the familiar floral couch or the antique side tables. Instead, she found a new, plush looking love seat, with bright green circular pillows sitting at the armrests. New and furnished coffee and side tables accompanied the new installment, and her art which had once hung above the couch was torn down; a picture of the Evans family replacing it. Everything was dusted down, shining with the thoughts of new and replaced and unfamiliar. It screamed the word gone.

"Oh good, you're home. Do you like what mother and I have done?" asked Petunia as she walked in from the kitchen, apron tied around her waist. Lily stayed silent, jaw slack, before shoving past her sister and running into the kitchen. Faint sounds of her sister's protests were heard behind the ringing in her ears, but they weren't loud enough to have any real effect on Lily.

Here kitchen looked the same mainly, save the newer refrigerator and table cloth. And the empty plate which had once sat on the table, from months ago, was gone, probably put back in one of the cabinets. It was gone, the symbol of welcome home she had kept, just in case James ever decided to waltz in one evening, claiming everything to be a mistake.

"Get out," she whispered, trying to find her voice in the spinning abyss that was her mind at the moment. "Leave!" she shouted louder, tears streaming from her eyes. "Get out of my home, get out of my city, get out of my fucking life!" And once again, that night, she slept alone, the home empty, but thankfully back in her bed.

The rain pounded on her windows, drumming along with the sounds of her sobs, as she missed him more than ever. God, she could almost feel his lips on hers. She could almost feel his arms around her. But it was simply an illusion, a trick of the mind to maybe make it hurt less now that the numb had all come crashing down. And for the first time, she wished she could take it all back. She wished she could trade in her memories for a blank slate, she wished she had never said yes. She wished she had never met him, never fallen in love, because anything was better than this pain. It was sad, that she built up her life around him in that way, but it was hard to be strong any other way.

That night, it was as if someone had reached into the sky and snatched the stars right out of it. And for once, Lily thought maybe it really was over. Maybe, they couldn't win this war. They had already taken her entire world from her, what more could they take?

a summer

Spring turned to summer and with that came the scorching heat and burning pavement. Lily picked up extra shifts at the coffee shop to keep her mind off of everything and finally, in late June, she cleaned out the apartment. His clothes, his belongings, everything of his. One by one, she packed his things into boxes, sealing them tight with her bare hands. Oh no, she didn't throw them away, she simply moved them into storage. Her wand lay far away as she carried them there, for magic was so far away, something she used so rarely outside of missions.

Missions had actually improved, her hurt turning into malice as she sliced and fought her way through the Death Eaters, desperate to gather vengeance. Her wit returned, the empty doll she was before slowly being revived, and her life taking a bit of purpose again. And she thought, maybe, she could survive this. Maybe, just maybe, her heart was healing, her open wounds started to sew themselves back together. But just the thought of him, the thought that just a year ago she had been that young and flawless eighteen year old without a care in the world, sent her spiraling and whirling to the ground and a flurry of blood shot eyes and soaking wet pillows. Now, at nineteen, the bags beneath her eyes seemed like a permanent fixture and the messy bun behind her head was present practically all of the time.

And after that late June day, around the middle of July, she had been fixed in front of the mirror, surveying her reflection, tracing the deep wrinkles, when an idea sprung to her mind. She raced down into the kitchen and through open one of the drawers, her fingers skimming along supplies until they touched the sharp blade. Grabbing them by that, she ran back to the bath room and slammed the door shut, before throwing the scissors to the counter and taking a deep breath. Her wrists were pounding with blood and she realized how easy it would be, to bring the sharp blade down and just slice. With shaking fingers, she clutched them in her hands and slowly raised them up, making her decision then. Positioning them corrected and with just a snip, she cut into herself, watching the red fall to the floor with a flurry. But it was not scars she sported that summer, no, it was hair that barley reached the nape of her neck, for in the sink sat not blood, but the beautiful red mane James had so always loved.

Lily had built her life around him and watched it crumble around her. Now, it was her chance to live without that strong wall around her, yet she was building one all on her own. No, not as strong nor as powerful, but it was there, no matter how weak comparatively to her last. But it was in mid-August that that wall came tumbling down once again.

It was a Monday she had off, Alice and Sirius were both away on a huge Order mission, apparently they were trying to infiltrate the headquarters, and it was quite early in the morning, so she decided to give painting a go. She hadn't much since he had left and maybe, just maybe, she could rekindle her love for it. So, she grabbed her dusty old paints from the back of the closet and pulled out her paintbrushes, along with a large stretch canvas and a tarp for the floor. She set it down in the sitting room, where the new furniture sat, still untouched by Lily. As it turned out, she was unable to get her old things back, for her mother's had given them to one of her elderly neighbors and Lily didn't have the heart to ask for them back.

Instead of using the brushes though, she dipped her fingers into the paint, and slowly started to paint a form on the canvas. Her colors swirled together, the paint spilling onto her clothes and forehead, smearing onto her jawline. She didn't realize though, until she was about halfway done, who the figure was she was painting. There sat James, his messy hair and glasses just a faint outline, but there none the same. With a frustrated grunt, she chucked it across the room and ran her hands through her short hair, spreading the paint into that too. It's like she was asking her body to heal, for her heart to mend itself but she just couldn't do it. Goddammit, she was Lily fucking Evans, she was supposed to be able to do whatever she put her mind to.

Before she had a chance to go fetch her canvas and start over, she found there to be a gentle tapping at her door. With a heaving sigh, she pushed herself up and slinked over to the noise, not bothering to look through the peep hole before yanking it open. She wasn't prepared for what she saw.

Because standing in front of her was a man with a tangled nest of black hair and cracked glasses, a man she knew so well but had lost so long ago. It wasn't possible for him to be standing there, in tattered clothes and bloodied up skin. He stood there, the tint of a smirk on his face, one hand in his long hair, hair that hadn't been cut for months and roughly cut stubble on his cheeks. There was the gruff sound of the man clearing his throat, jerking Lily out of her daze, before she stumbled back into the house, hand clutched over her mouth as she felt the wounds open up in her chest and the blood came pouring out.

"No," she choked out, a wet path of tears now streaming seamlessly down her face, "No, this isn't possible." She tripped back some more, until she found her legs give out beneath her, throwing her to the hard floor. It was a mirage, she was sure of it, some trick of the mind or the light because he couldn't be standing there. Maybe a dream or hallucination or maybe some magical spell but he couldn't be there. She had lived long enough without him to know that he was never coming back. "Who are you?" she cried. "Who are you, what… go away, please, please."

"Lily," he chuckled uneasily, now in the room and making his way over to her shaking form. "Lily, it's me. Lily, it's James. Please, Lily, I'm here." He spoke in a soothing voice, crouching down next to her and trying to pat her on the back. She jerked away from his touch as if they would scald a burn onto her skin. Polyjuice potion, maybe, she thought. What kind a cruel person would do that?

"Who are you? This isn't a joke, please, stop." Maybe it was Alice, underneath the mask of the potion or maybe Sirius, trying to fill the void in her heart for just a few moments. But she didn't want it, she was scared for what may happen.

"Lily, please, it's me. I'm alive. I'm so, so sorry." He didn't dare reach out again, choosing to just sit a few feet away and coo soft apologies. She just kept shaking her head, sobbing into her knobby knees and muttering, "No, it's not possible."

Finally, after minutes of silence, apart from Lily's cries, she looked up at him and choked out one word. "How?"

He shuddered and begin, "They… they kept me in this dark basement… they wanted me to join them. They tortured me, they killed people in front of me… they used you, they used you to try and make me turn… I tried to get out, I tried to escape. The Order Members saved me, I don't know how but suddenly they were there and they were grabbing me, shaking me awake, pulling me and yanking me until we were out and god, Lily, the sunlight. It was the most beautiful thing. And Sirius, he just hugged me and Alice was crying and Frank was patting me on the back, telling me they all thought I was gone. They told me to come here, to see you. God, Lily, you were what kept me sane in there, the thought of you kept me sane through every single thing they did, just you. Your face… your eyes; the only thing. You were what kept me going, what kept me alive, what stopped me from just giving up hope."

He was trembling and shaking as he told her and she couldn't help but just sob more because she was so afraid at that moment. So afraid that in the blink of the eyes, he would be gone, he would disappear in front of her. Part of her wanted to kick and scream, tell him to leave because if she let him back in who knows what could happen, who knows if her would disappear again.

"And the body?"

He replied, "It wasn't mine. William and I, we were together when they got us, they put us in this holding cell and…. Well I didn't know if I was going to make it, neither did he. So, I made him promise that if he got out alive, he would give you the ring, tell you that I loved you, but that you should move on. I knew if I got out, that I could always get a new ring, tell you I loved you myself, but if I didn't, he was my only shot for you to know. They dragged him off, I could hear his screams when they killed him. I remember the fire, I remember the smoke filling the room, and I knew they were burning him, his body. Then they transported me somewhere else." Lily was shaking as she held up one finger, stopping him from talking. On all fours, she slowly crawled over to him, sitting with legs splayed in front in front of him and both hands behind him propping him up.

"Don't move," she whispered as she was close, only a few inches away. She took him in her with eyes, absorbing every part of him. With a tentative hand, she reached forward and slowly dragged her knuckles up the side of his face, along his protruding cheek bone. He looked so skinny, so thin he could just break in two with the simplest of touches. "Go get showered, I'll make you some lunch."

He nodded, just sitting there beneath her touch until she finally stood up and walked into the kitchen. He followed, but made a turn for the bedroom. She watched him as he went, afraid that if she blinked he might disappear. The numbness she felt before took over as she wasn't sure what she was feeling. It was all so sudden, so unrealistic. It was almost like a dream, and she wouldn't get her hopes up in case that's what it turned out to be. Her hands shook with tremors as she grabbed a soup can, pouring it into a pot and setting it on the stove. She then collapsed into a chair, shaking with silent, dry heaves that ran through her body like earthquakes. She heard the shower running in the background and she could imagine the thick layer of dirt running off his body, she could imagine it running thorough his hair and scraggly beard and clearing him of the man he had come to be. His shampoo still sat in the shower, untouched by Lily, as well as his razors in the bottom drawer and his comb (which had never really done anything anyway). Those few supplies hadn't been touched when she had moved his things away; those few domestic things were the ones that got her. There were a few cardboard boxes in the closet and she fetched a few articles of clothing from them, laying them out on the bed for when he got out of the shower.

The timer went off just as the door to the bedroom opened; Lily jumped up to pull the stew off the stove, as well as grabbing two bowls and spoons, giving James the larger portion. He padded in wearing a pair of his trousers and a t-shirt from his drawers; his beard gone and hair cleaned and trimmed up, though his glasses were still looking worse for the ware.

"Here," she murmured, grabbing her wand and pointing it at his face, "Oculus Reparo." They snapped back into place, the bridge bending back and the glass fusing together once more. He muttered a thanks, before hungrily looking at the stew.

"Oh right, here you are," Lily said, bringing the bowls and silverware over to the table and setting it down in front of him, where they both took seats and he started gulping it down.

"Never could make anything other than canned foods," he joked between bites, making Lily chuckle lightly as she slowly played with the food in front of her; never taking a real bite. "You should eat, you look thin."

"I haven't really been able to keep much down lately," she whispered, tears forming beneath her down-turned eyelids.

"Do you have some sort of bug?" he inquired.

"I thought you were dead," she replied simply and harshly, slamming her spoon on the table.

"Oh." Silence ensued, both of them just looking anywhere but each other. "I… I like what you did with the place. Kinda… spiced it up. And your hair, too. It's different."

"I needed a fresh start, I needed to free myself of its burden," Lily said, "And the furniture- it wasn't me. My mother and Petunia came around… they thought it would be good if they changed things, to get my mind off of you."

"Did it work?"

She shook her head, a few stray tears traveling down her face, and whispered, "Wait here." She rummaged around in some drawers, coming across his ring, which she slid into her pocket before she found the parchment. When she returned, she held it out to him: the letter that should have been read by him so long ago, saying, "Many days, before and after this was written, I could barely get out of bed. I learned to survive, but not live without you. I knew you weren't dead, though, I could feel it in my bones."

She sat back in her seat, watching as he unfolded the paper, his eyes scanning the messy and tear stained words. His faced changed, from hurt to fear to something she couldn't even make out. Distress was the best way to describe it. By the end, he was crying too, slowly shaking his head as he arrived at the very last parts. He placed his hand, palm side up, on the table; beckoning her to place her hand in his. She complied. His fingertips caught the ring that sat on her dainty little finger, tracing the outline of the metal.

"You're still wearing it," he hummed, "You didn't take it off."

"James, when was I ever not yours?" she requested tenderly, resisting the urge to wipe her soaking cheeks. "I… I have yours if you still want it." She slid her hand into her pocket and plucked it out before standing up, at the same time as him, and crossing over to reach him. They stood, barley a few centimeters apart, yet their bodies not touching a bit. Grabbing his hand, she slowly slid it into his finger, bringing it up to her mouth afterward and slowly placing a kiss to it. Her hands curled around the back of his neck and she slowly leaned up as he leaned down.

"You live, I live, remember?" And with that, she pulled him down to her and kissed him hard, needy and desperate, trying to convince herself he was there, he was really there. The entire day, they slowly rediscovered each other, rediscovered the feeling of their lips on each others, of skin on skin and the feel of love beneath their roaming hands. Daylight slowly turned into dusk, which fell to night, but they were too busy to notice.

James screamed proclamations of love, while Lily delicately placed them in the kisses that covered every centimeter of his body.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry love. I won't leave you again," he gasped as she nipped at his neck, placing hickey over hickey on his collarbone. "I thought about you every moment, every second."

"It doesn't matter," she replied, running her sweaty hands through his hair, "You're back, you're back and fuck, I love you. It's only you, it's only ever been you."

"I'm home," he whispered, "I'm home to cook you dinner and wash your hair and hold your hand. But most of all, I'm home to kiss you goodnight."

It sunk in to her, then, that he was really home. Sure, the paper that arrived the next morning proclaiming the news was good evidence too, as well as the Welcome Home party Sirius through, but it was that moment there that it really sunk in. He was home and Lily didn't need to try and shine all by herself. The hand in hers that had seem like it had faded was there again, solidified in hers. James was home.

Lily's bitten raw lip healed and her hair grew out, James' cuts and bruises were sewn back together and his disheveled hair was trimmed, but their internal pains were much harder to heal. Her broken heart and his damaged mind never really returned to their original conditions, but maybe they weren't supposed to be. They now lived everyday like their last, they kissed like it was the very last, and they loved like maybe the other would disappear at any moment.

And she was the sun and he was the moon and maybe they weren't perfect, but they weren't trying to be. After all, they were really only ever two teenagers, madly in love.

A/N: If you got through that... congratulations, I know it's a shit-load to read. I would really, really appreciate ANY reviews that this story gets and am thinking of doing a sequel/drabbles based off of this, so if you want one, please let me know in the reviews! Any questions/concerns can be sent to my tumblr. My URL is ofcatsandthings