For 100quills
Title: Last Moments
Author: kbpkrissy
Rating: PG
Prompt Set: Lily 5.3
Prompt: Peace
Word Count: 537
Summary: That fateful night at Godric's Hollow, seen through the eyes of Lily Evans.
Warnings: Character deaths.
Notes: This was so hard for me to write. I couldn't get through a single sentence without my vison becoming blurry because I was crying. This is such a poignant scene, and for my sake, I needed to write it.
“Avada Kedavra,” she heard as she pressed herself against the nursery room door. Locking it and pushing her weight against it, Lily let out a strangled sob as she heard the resounding thud that followed the unforgivable. Her husband was dead. Everything in her told her that she’d never see him again. The way his glasses would fall lopsided when he laughed or the way he would unconsciously tug at the ends of his hair when she still made him nervous. It was all gone with those two little words.
She slid down the door, grasping the cool handle in her hand. It was as if it were the only thing holding her together as she tried to keep her painful heart quiet. She could still hear the Death Eaters moving downstairs, but then a sound from the crib - a soft little cry echoed in the still room.
She turned and saw her son - her precious Harry, who looked so much like James, hanging over the edge of the bars, reaching for her. She crawled her way to the crib, the carpet feeling scratchy against her palms, and pulled herself up. Picking him up, she held him close, pressing her cheek against his unruly hair and crying.
A crash downstairs startled Harry and he, too, started to cry. Lily bounced him anxiously as she heard footsteps ascending the stairs, her eyes never once leaving the door handle. Fumbling with her wand, she prepared to apparate the two of them out of there, but the door flew open and her wand sailed out of her hand before the words could even leave her lips.
She was face-to-face with the man who had threatened her family, the man who wanted her son dead, and all Lily could do was angle her body away from him, protecting Harry.
He had said something then and Lily felt herself responding long before she even formed a conscious thought. She sat Harry back down in the crib and leaned against the bars that jutted uncomfortably into her back. She was defiant and a Gryffindor, and no amount of persuasion or bribes for her life would make her move out from in front of that crib.
A moment later (or maybe it was merely seconds, she couldn’t be certain), Lily was looking at the end of the same wand that had killed her husband moments before. Her hands tightened around the bars behind her, letting her know she was still alive. She saw Lord Voldemort begin to utter the curse that would kill her and she closed her eyes against the world for the last time and waited. Just waited for inevitable.
It was in that moment that she felt the most serene peace; an overwhelming sense of tranquility where James was laughing jovially at her and trying to get her to go out with him and of nights of sitting in front of the fire in the Gryffindor Common. Of friends lost to the war, waving and smiling at her, and inviting her to a small get-together. And finally, of her son. His eyes, the same as hers, were the last image she had before the world fell away into a quiet oblivion.
Author: kbpkrissy
Rating: PG
Prompt Set: Lily 5.3
Prompt: Peace
Word Count: 537
Summary: That fateful night at Godric's Hollow, seen through the eyes of Lily Evans.
Warnings: Character deaths.
Notes: This was so hard for me to write. I couldn't get through a single sentence without my vison becoming blurry because I was crying. This is such a poignant scene, and for my sake, I needed to write it.
“Avada Kedavra,” she heard as she pressed herself against the nursery room door. Locking it and pushing her weight against it, Lily let out a strangled sob as she heard the resounding thud that followed the unforgivable. Her husband was dead. Everything in her told her that she’d never see him again. The way his glasses would fall lopsided when he laughed or the way he would unconsciously tug at the ends of his hair when she still made him nervous. It was all gone with those two little words.
She slid down the door, grasping the cool handle in her hand. It was as if it were the only thing holding her together as she tried to keep her painful heart quiet. She could still hear the Death Eaters moving downstairs, but then a sound from the crib - a soft little cry echoed in the still room.
She turned and saw her son - her precious Harry, who looked so much like James, hanging over the edge of the bars, reaching for her. She crawled her way to the crib, the carpet feeling scratchy against her palms, and pulled herself up. Picking him up, she held him close, pressing her cheek against his unruly hair and crying.
A crash downstairs startled Harry and he, too, started to cry. Lily bounced him anxiously as she heard footsteps ascending the stairs, her eyes never once leaving the door handle. Fumbling with her wand, she prepared to apparate the two of them out of there, but the door flew open and her wand sailed out of her hand before the words could even leave her lips.
She was face-to-face with the man who had threatened her family, the man who wanted her son dead, and all Lily could do was angle her body away from him, protecting Harry.
He had said something then and Lily felt herself responding long before she even formed a conscious thought. She sat Harry back down in the crib and leaned against the bars that jutted uncomfortably into her back. She was defiant and a Gryffindor, and no amount of persuasion or bribes for her life would make her move out from in front of that crib.
A moment later (or maybe it was merely seconds, she couldn’t be certain), Lily was looking at the end of the same wand that had killed her husband moments before. Her hands tightened around the bars behind her, letting her know she was still alive. She saw Lord Voldemort begin to utter the curse that would kill her and she closed her eyes against the world for the last time and waited. Just waited for inevitable.
It was in that moment that she felt the most serene peace; an overwhelming sense of tranquility where James was laughing jovially at her and trying to get her to go out with him and of nights of sitting in front of the fire in the Gryffindor Common. Of friends lost to the war, waving and smiling at her, and inviting her to a small get-together. And finally, of her son. His eyes, the same as hers, were the last image she had before the world fell away into a quiet oblivion.