A/N: Sorry it took so long...
"Where am I?" James groaned, placing a hand on his throbbing head. The dark room was empty, cold, and foreboding. Only small bits of light found a way through the filthy window, that didn't lead outside. James realized: this was another room in... what it was, James didn't know, but he had spent the last three months of his life there. Here, he learned his son was dead, and no Death Eater spoke of his wife, which gave him hope that she, at least, was still alive.
He looked out the window, as a sense of deja vou seized him; he didn't want to look, but he had to. He did.
The window showed a dimly lit cell, and there she was, huddled up against the wall, Lily.
James couldn't describe the relief he felt. She was incredibly thin, he could see most of her bones, and her fiery hair lay lank and dirty against her face, but James didn't care; she was alive, and as long as she was, he still had a reason to live, to exist in this hell.
"Lily! Lily!" James yelled out to her, pounding on the window with what strength he had left. "LILY!" She didn't move, she couldn't hear him.
"She can't hear you," a masked figure taunted him. "She can't see you either."
James fell to his knees, still able to see through the window.
The door to Lily's cell creaked open, and knew he didn't want it to. "What's going on?" he demanded. "What are you doing?!"
But, somehow, he already knew.
Lily looked up as a second figure - first to her - masked and cloaked, approached her.
James panicked. "Lily! Lily, no!" He didn't want to look, he had to look away, but he couldn't, somehow, he was kept from even glancing away from that window.
He watched. He watched the Death Eater approach her, force her down.
He heard. He heard her screams, her screams for him.
He cried. He loved her, she didn't deserve this, any of this, and he was helpless to stop it.
"Shouting for Potter won't help you now, Mudblood," the Death Eater told her, snarling.
James listened as well as he could while striving to control his tears as the nameless Death Eater finished what he had to say.
He saw her eyes, her beautiful emerald green orbs, already filled with the pain and abuse of these last three months, look up. She had died; not her body, but her soul.
James was back at Grimmauld Place. It was empty and dark, silent, too, except for the sound of someone crying. James followed the sobs; it was Lily. She had her back to him.
"Why?" she answered.