A/N: Thank you all who have read and reviewed my previous drabbles and one-shots!
Disclaimer: All of these wonderful characters belong to Jo.
There was laughter all around the night James Potter died— from the children that skipped down the road in their costumes, to the men and women in the pub at the corner of the street, to the small, green-eyed child who laughed in delight as his father produced wisps of colorful light with a wave of his wand.
Then, all too soon, there was only sheer terror, his son's cries, and green— green in Lily's horrified eyes as she turned back to look at him for the last time and in the blinding light that hit him square in the chest.
And just like the bursts of light and his son's ringing laughter, his life came to an end.
It was like blinking, really. One second he was falling to the floor, the next his eyes struggled to adjust to the strange new place before him, which wasn't a place at all but vast nothingness. He was alone so he knew he must be dead. James heard himself laugh, as was his custom during the most inappropriate situations. How funny, in a cosmic way, that the last thought in his old life was the very first in this new one: Lily and Harry. If he was dead and they were nowhere to be seen, then that meant they had escaped him.
The thought of never seeing them or holding them in his arms again destroyed him, but James could spend all of eternity alone if it meant they were safe.
Then she was there and his breath caught like it did every time he saw her unexpectedly in the corridors of Hogwarts when they were younger, except this time, his heart all but broke. For the first time ever, he was hoping he did not have to see her again for a very long time.
Her green eyes, still as radiant and bright as they were in life, scanned around until they fell on him. "James!" she breathed, allowing that mask of bravery to finally collapse. She ran to his arms and buried her face on his chest.
"Lily," he mourned, holding her tight.
Lily wept. It was strange that in this state beyond life, beyond death, they could still feel the stabbing pain of loss and fear. He bitterly wondered as he held her what then was the point of dying.
"I tried—" she attempted to explain.
"I know," he replied softly. "I did too."
James pulled back a bit and Lily blinked at him through her tears. Without another word, she leaned up to kiss him like no other time before. He kissed her back just as fervently, the thought of almost having lost her burning in his mind. "I'm sorry," they whispered against each other's lips.
Lily held onto him once more. "Harry," she sobbed . "Our Harry." James shut his eyes tight, praying that their son would not appear. He dreaded the moment his tiny form would materialize before them, the chance of growing up snatched so violently from him.
But he never did.
James sighed softly in relief and Lily, who had been clutching his arm all that time, relaxed. Her tears, however, did not subside.
"He lived," he assured her, stroking her hair.
"We'll never see him again," she whispered sadly. It was a lament as well as a resignation.
His arms tightened around her—the best comfort he could give her— and said nothing. He was convinced that, one way or another, someday they would.