preface
It had been years since we last saw him.
I felt his absence like a phantom limb, an empty sensation at my side where the string that tied our two souls together hung uselessly as its tether had disappeared. Over the years I'd caught glimpses of him in others: the black hair of a stranger; the laughter of a friend; the warmth of the sun after a cold breeze had passed. But it's never been him.
Others told me that his silence was a sure sign that his time on earth had been cut short but I could never bring myself to accept this. Maybe it's because he didn't say goodbye or perhaps it's because I hadn't seen a body but I knew that if he really were gone then I would have felt it. I was sure that he was alive somewhere out there because I was still able to feel the sun, to breathe and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that if he stopped existing I would be able to feel that world altering moment. It would start as a sharp burst of pain in my chest, then it would spread, shooting pains down my arms and legs before settling as a dull ache in my bones, it would sit heavily on my chest, suffocating my fluttering heart, smothering my gasping lungs.
If James Potter ever stopped breathing, I am certain I would too.
For this reason I've kept hoping, kept looking and kept believing that one day, when he is ready, he would come back to me