It was a horrible dirty thing.
If it was so wrong, then why did it feel so right?
But the truth was that no matter what, it was wrong.
But she was beautiful, so young yet so wise, so intelligent, so sarcastic, so alive, so bright, so perfect.
She was everything he wanted and everything he couldn't have.
He was so much older, so much older he could be her father.
That's what made it so wrong; the fact that he grew up with her father. That he watched her mother and him fall in love. That he was there.
That he could be dead before she was forty.
She was so young, only eighteen. That's so young in his aged eyes.
He wishes he was eighteen again. If not only so it wouldn't be so wrong then to be so he wasn't so bitter. So that he didn't have the knowledge of knowing that he signed his best friend's death sentence. That he killed the first woman he ever loved.
He loved Lily.
It seems like everything he loved was wrong.
Everything he touched died.
He didn't want to kill her, she was so beautiful. So pure.
It tears him up that in the beginning he compared her to Lily. They will never be the same. He couldn't imagine her falling in love with another James. With Harry.
It would kill him.
She knew, she had to. For every night she would curl next to him on the big loveseat in the living room and just lay there, watching the fire and talking of the things she wanted to do when she got older. Of the husband and children she wished to have.
Another man as a husband.
Children that weren't his.
He killed his best friend and the first woman he ever loved. Maybe this was his punishment…watching the one he loved more than anyone being torn away because it was wrong.
Because he was wrong.
If he had one wish…it would be to be right.