Peace
"Hey, look at me. Just breathe."
There was a heavy puff of dirt beside her as James fell to his knees at her side. Hands tugged at her wrists, trying to pry apart the death grip she had on her hair. It was useless. Those strands were her anchor, grounding her to the earth as her chest heaved and her heart threatened to give out. She couldn’t let go.
"Evans, Evans. Lily. For fuck's sake. You can't do this here. You can't do this now."
Dimly she registered his words. Knew the truth in them. Knew he was right.
Ha.
James Potter, right.
Who would have thought Lily Evans would ever have admitted that?
How times had changed.
Now it felt like the world was tilting her off its axis.
"Lily, you have to breathe or you're going to pass out." He pleaded with her.
"Come on, Lily, you can do it. In through your nose, out through your mouth." Coached her.
"We're in the middle of a fucking battlefield, Evans, fucking breathe, damn it." Ordered her.
Nothing.
Nada.
She could do nothing but listen to the roaring in her ears, feel the scratch of her throat, succumb to the ache in her soul.
"Fuck this." His muttered words registered more than anything he'd said before. Maybe because there were actions with them. James no longer knelt in front of her, but stood, hooking her around the middle as he rose. He lifted Lily off her feet as if she weighed nothing, barked an order to Sirius, a request to Remus. With nothing so much as a word of explanation to the woman in his arms, James turned on his heel and apparated them both away.
The change of environment did nothing to help her. The familiar smell of leather and lemons and salt that gave away their appearance in the Marauder's post-Hogwarts flat barely twitched her nostrils. The sounds of James' cat, a fat ginger that had liked her more than him in their final year, chirping a greeting didn't cover the haggard harsh sounds still emerging with each gasp of her lungs. The feel of the soft plush bedroom carpet, insisted on by Mrs. Potter when the boys had taken over the ramshackle apartment, failed to register against her hands as she sank on to it, her body limp, tension focused solely in her throat.
She'd killed someone.
"You had to."
Lily hadn't even realised she'd said the words out loud until James responded. Hadn't realised that he'd joined her on the ground until his hands took the place hers had previously held in her hair. Hadn't realised how much she'd needed him, there, until he was.
"Lily, hey, look at me. Breath."
Finally, finally, her eyes met his.
James' eyes were hazel. That was well documented. Well known. A fact, indisputable.
Except that hazel was a sad, sad description that really didn't cut the mustard. They were warm brown, a glowing earthy colour, highlighted with gold flecks that danced when he was happy, when he was sad, when he was angry.
Really they danced when James felt something, and felt it strongly.
And right then, he felt whatever it was he was feeling very strongly indeed.
She hadn’t seen him look at her like that in a long, long time.
"No, don't." He caught her gaze, following her eyes with his when she tried to drop them, shying away from the intensity of emotion he'd directed her way. His thumb caressed the edge of her jaw, gently lifting her chin to keep her attention on him as he spoke. "Lily, look at me. Listen to me. You had to. You had to."
The lump formerly known as her heart squeezed painful in her chest, stopping the movement of air in her lungs once more. Roaring sounded in her ears as blood rushed heedlessly from her brain, a thumping pressure beating on her skull. She tried to focus on James, tried to listen to the words he said, tried to study the expression on his face. She fought the urge to close their eyes, but it was no use. Nothing would stop the memories flooding in.
It had happened so quickly. Too quickly. All over in mere moments really. Strange how some things in life took forever, but the taking of a life could be performed in a blink. She'd felled one Death Eater, stunning him, incapacitating him, but not killing him, one in a long line of many, on that night and on others, spun on her heel and found a sight she'd never wanted to see.
James, disarmed, wandless, defenceless, facing a masked, determined Death Eater of his own.
As much as her heart ached now, it had nothing on the swift sharp piercing pain she’d experienced in that moment. Lily had reacted without thinking, her wand raised, words forming on her lips, pure hatred driving them forward. It wasn’t a green light that had shot forward, she wasn’t sure she’d ever hate enough, deep enough that she could make that one spell work, but something just as deadly, but almost worse really, for the time it had taken to work.
The constriction of the Death Eater’s throat had been invisible to the naked eye. But the darkening of his eyes, flooded with panic as he’d clutched at his neck had made the effects of her cast obvious just the same. He’d clawed at his robes, uselessly trying to loosen the fabric, as if it would help. The frantic movement had dislodged his mask and it fell to the ground at James’ feet.
She knew him.
Not by name, a fact she both regretted but rejoiced in. But by his face, his features. A Hufflepuff, she was fairly confident and appalled to realise. He was still a boy really, two years below them at Hogwarts, which probably meant he wasn’t a boy at all, as they’d been gone at least four now. Enough time had passed for him to grow up, graduate himself, and apparently make all the wrong choices that had brought them to this very moment.
He collapsed before he’d run out of breath, and Lily had managed to stagger several steps away from the middle of the street in which they’d been duelling, the one in which the fallen Death Eater’s mates were still doing their best to destroy the shops, the homes and the Order members desperate to protect it.
She hadn’t realised James had trailed after her into a shadowed spot until he’d spoken those words, urging her to breathe as the boy she’d just killed could no longer.
“You saved my life.”
James’ words again became a life line, forcing Lily back into the present moment. Her eyes, glazed as she’d relived what had only happened minutes before, but felt like an absolute eternity, focused again on him.
“I killed him.”
“To save me. Evans,” his hands moved, cupping the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair, thumbs brushing along her cheekbone, “Evans, you didn’t have a choice. You were saving me.”
“I know.” Deep down. Deep, deep down. But that didn’t stop those eyes, the light in them slowly fading out, from flashing through her brain once again. “I know, but-”
“But nothing,” he cut her off gently. “It was him or me. I’m just glad you chose me.”
“Of course.” Her stomach rolled, nausea creating an acidic taste on her tongue. Suddenly needing to touch him, reassure herself he was still there, he was real, this terrible horrible thing she’d done had at least had the desired result, Lily’s hands moved quickly, taking hold of his forearms where they stretched toward her face. “It wasn’t even a choice.”
The corners of his mouth twitched, that trademark smirk she’d once hated, then loved, then feigned disinterest and ambivalence in once more, coming to the fore. “Didn’t think you cared that much, Evans.”
She blinked. Stared. Tried to make sense of his words as adrenaline finally started to cool in her system. “I- what?”
He smiled now, a true James Potter shit eating grin that would have set butterflies alight in her stomach if she was a different kind of girl and he a different kind of boy and there wasn’t over a decade of love found and lost between them. “Wasn’t so sure you’d come to my aid, to be honest.”
“Potter.” His name came out more cross than confused, and of course it made those lips of his curve even wider. “I am having a crisis.”
“I know.” His forehead dropped forward, resting on hers. So close their noses brushed together, sparking a memory of a different kind. Causing her heart to squeeze in a way she'd forgotten it ever could.
Her hands slid down his forearms, feeling the tone of the muscle underlying his smooth skin, until her fingers overlapped his own. "I'm having a crisis and you're making it all about you."
He laughed, a small puff of air, floating across her face given how close they were. "I am."
"How very in keeping for you." It was a lie, obviously. James Potter was the most selfless, determined, honest, loyal man she'd ever met.
So selfless she'd refused to stand at his side while he tried to get himself killed again and again, while also trying to protect her from the evils he knew she didn't want to face in the same breath.
This.
This moment.
This was what he'd been trying to prevent. This was what he'd been trying to protect her from. This was what he'd always feared that she wouldn't be able to handle, swearing her capacity to love, the very lightness of her soul, wouldn't be able to accept.
The taking of a life.
And despite the fact she'd pushed him away at every opportunity, denied them both the brief moments of happiness that they should have been having, should have been revelling in during the broken, barren existence that was a life spent fighting in a war, he was here when she needed him.
And fuck did she need him.
"It worked, didn't it?" James squeezed their hands where they still held Lily's face, sending a jolt of warmth directly to that sodden heavy lump in her heart, that finally felt like it was starting to beat again. "You're breathing now."
And she was. Slowly, painfully, as if each movement of her ribcage, inflation of her lungs was something of a marathon, but where before she flipped from hyperventilation to a complete respiratory freeze, now the rhythm was somewhat normal, and adequate enough that she wasn't on the verge of passing out.
Lily moved slightly, not far, and certainly not away, just enough that her cheek aligned with his, her lips almost touching his ear. It brought their bodies closer, her hands dropping to trail down James' chest. "Thank you."
"Always." One of his now freed hands moved to stroke her hair, soothing, reassuring her while the other kept their cheeks together. "I'm always going to be here for you, Lily. Even if you don't want me to be."
Even if you don't want me to be.
She pulled away, pushing insistently back against James' grumble of protest, until they were face to face once more. Now that she was calm, Lily could appreciate the sight of him, up close and personal, like they hadn't been for months. Her eyes drank him in, appreciating, admiring.
"I love you."
The words were out before she could stop them. Before she even knew they were coming. It didn't mean they weren't completely and utterly true.
James didn't miss a beat. Didn't leave her hanging. Didn't even question the timing or legitimacy of her statement.
"I love you too."
"I miss you."
"I miss you too."
It felt so good to get the confessions off her chest, hear the words in return, that Lily just kept going. "I want you here. I always want you here, with me. Don't think I don't want you with me. It's not that. It's never that."
James' face hadn't changed much during their exchange, his eyes a soft hearty brown, but the rest of his features impassive, as if they discussed no more than the weather. Now, though, at the reminder of their separation, his mouth tightened, a tick running along his jaw as he swallowed reflexively. "I know."
"I'm sorry." And she was. She always was. That never changed, much like he didn't, and their circumstances didn't.
James pulled Lily in, arms circling her shoulders, blocking her from seeing any further emotions as his chin lowered to rest on the crown of her head. But she felt the resignation in the heavy sigh that reverberated through his body to hers as it shifted the hair on her head. "I know."
Peace.
This is what peace must feel like.
Peace wasn't simple, and it definitely wasn't easy. It wasn't lasting either, and Lily knew that better than anyone. This night, it might change things between them, it might heal hurts and change their paths to align once more, or it might not. But she couldn't turn down a glimpse of peace when it offered itself up on a platter. She'd learnt- the hard way- to grasp these fleeting moments, in case they were the last. She’d learnt to find peace, to take it, where she could.
They didn't say anything for a long, long time. Really, what else was there to be said? So instead of trying to fill the silence, of trying to think of things, Lily chose instead to burrow deeper into James' arms, taking refuge in his warm, solid strength, letting herself be lulled by the steady, constant beat of James' heart.
Before she was ready to let go, to let him go, for this blip of a moment to be over, James shifted, jostling her in his arms. She wanted to protest, opened her mouth to do so, but before a sound could come out, before a word was uttered, his lips fell to hers.
The press of their mouths was gentle at first. A soft, supple embrace of her bottom lip within both of his. It spoke to the care, the tenderness, the love that James continued to have for her, the one she never really doubted, no matter what else passed between them. The love that she still harboured for him in return.
But as her own mouth began to move under his, the kiss deepened into something more. He gasped, or she did, and the joint suction of air fused them together, intensifying the waves of electricity that radiated to her core. James squeezed her even closer, until Lily couldn't be sure where she ended and he began. She lost herself, gave herself willingly to movement of their hands, their mouths, their bodies.
And later, much later, curled in his arms, not a scrap between them and on the verge of sleep, she realised she'd been wrong before.
This, this was peace.