fight ; a james/lily drabble
Fight
RATING: PG-13.
PAIRING: James/Lily.
WARNINGS: Mentions of death.
SUMMARY: Lily receives entirely unpleasant news.
DISCLAIMER: The Harry Potter series and its characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I am merely borrowing them.
The words on the page began to blur together. Lily shut her eyes and wished it would all go away, that she could be the naive eleven-year-old girl again when her life was whole.
She forced herself to open her eyes. Shutting them would bring her closer to crying and she was certain she didn't need more tears. She had found herself crying so often that she would be surprised to find that her eyes were dry.
Lily,
Mum passed on. Funeral was on Monday--didn't know how to reach you in time.
Petunia
She took in a ragged, gasping breath, not entirely sure when she had last drawn a stable breath of air. Her mother had been a wreck after her father's death; the sight of smoke could set her off, rendering her a sobbing, sputtering mess, her tolerance of the animosity between her daughters virtually non-existent. Lily had been there when her father had passed away, and she forced herself to be strong for her mother's sake, only allowing herself to cry when she was alone. She would cry in the hallway when no one was watching, in her old bedroom when she was going to sleep, curled up under her covers. When she left Cokeworth to return to the real world, she went straight to James and cried until she couldn't cry anymore.
It was worse today than it had been that entire few months.
She didn't want to cry. She wanted to live for her mother's memory and her father's and she wanted to fight for the baby inside her.
She had been so absorbed in trying to keep the tears from falling that she hadn't noticed her husband entering the room. She nearly fell off the bed when she felt his arms wrap around her, his warmth radiating from him like a comforting blanket. His lips brushed her jaw and she knew--he didn't have to ask--as she silently handed him the brief note her sister had sent.
He said nothing as he let the paper fall from his hands. Lily lifted her hands to cover his, shaking slightly against the slight swell of her stomach.
They sat there on the bed for what felt like ages and she could hear her breathing even out, but none of it felt real. Slowly, she shifted, turning in James' arms to face him. His eyes were blazing with everything that he didn't say and Lily felt the tears springing to her eyes again.
James leaned forward to kiss her forehead, and she could almost see his eyes closing, though she was staring at her hands in their laps. "Our child has no grandparents, James," she whispered hoarsely, her voice scratchy from disuse. She fought the mad urge to laugh--everything felt like a horrible nightmare and perhaps she would wake up and find that none of this had actually happened, that she was happily married to a man she loved in a world that was accepting, with her family alive and well. She sighed, placing her shaking hands loosely on his hips. "How have you lived with the pain?" She probably sounded like a child, but James doesn't laugh.
He tucks his finger beneath her chin, tilting her head up so he can look into her eyes. There was pain there--she can plainly see it--but she could see determination, passion, ferocity, courage... and love. Most of all, she could see love reflecting back at her and she found her own fear ebbing away. "I don't know," James admitted, and she choked, the sound like a whimper as a tear rolled down her cheek. "But I do know that I manage. I take it a day at a time... With you always by my side. We'll get through it together."
RATING: PG-13.
PAIRING: James/Lily.
WARNINGS: Mentions of death.
SUMMARY: Lily receives entirely unpleasant news.
DISCLAIMER: The Harry Potter series and its characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I am merely borrowing them.
The words on the page began to blur together. Lily shut her eyes and wished it would all go away, that she could be the naive eleven-year-old girl again when her life was whole.
She forced herself to open her eyes. Shutting them would bring her closer to crying and she was certain she didn't need more tears. She had found herself crying so often that she would be surprised to find that her eyes were dry.
Lily,
Mum passed on. Funeral was on Monday--didn't know how to reach you in time.
Petunia
She took in a ragged, gasping breath, not entirely sure when she had last drawn a stable breath of air. Her mother had been a wreck after her father's death; the sight of smoke could set her off, rendering her a sobbing, sputtering mess, her tolerance of the animosity between her daughters virtually non-existent. Lily had been there when her father had passed away, and she forced herself to be strong for her mother's sake, only allowing herself to cry when she was alone. She would cry in the hallway when no one was watching, in her old bedroom when she was going to sleep, curled up under her covers. When she left Cokeworth to return to the real world, she went straight to James and cried until she couldn't cry anymore.
It was worse today than it had been that entire few months.
She didn't want to cry. She wanted to live for her mother's memory and her father's and she wanted to fight for the baby inside her.
She had been so absorbed in trying to keep the tears from falling that she hadn't noticed her husband entering the room. She nearly fell off the bed when she felt his arms wrap around her, his warmth radiating from him like a comforting blanket. His lips brushed her jaw and she knew--he didn't have to ask--as she silently handed him the brief note her sister had sent.
He said nothing as he let the paper fall from his hands. Lily lifted her hands to cover his, shaking slightly against the slight swell of her stomach.
They sat there on the bed for what felt like ages and she could hear her breathing even out, but none of it felt real. Slowly, she shifted, turning in James' arms to face him. His eyes were blazing with everything that he didn't say and Lily felt the tears springing to her eyes again.
James leaned forward to kiss her forehead, and she could almost see his eyes closing, though she was staring at her hands in their laps. "Our child has no grandparents, James," she whispered hoarsely, her voice scratchy from disuse. She fought the mad urge to laugh--everything felt like a horrible nightmare and perhaps she would wake up and find that none of this had actually happened, that she was happily married to a man she loved in a world that was accepting, with her family alive and well. She sighed, placing her shaking hands loosely on his hips. "How have you lived with the pain?" She probably sounded like a child, but James doesn't laugh.
He tucks his finger beneath her chin, tilting her head up so he can look into her eyes. There was pain there--she can plainly see it--but she could see determination, passion, ferocity, courage... and love. Most of all, she could see love reflecting back at her and she found her own fear ebbing away. "I don't know," James admitted, and she choked, the sound like a whimper as a tear rolled down her cheek. "But I do know that I manage. I take it a day at a time... With you always by my side. We'll get through it together."