Two figures. A boy and a girl. Splayed out on their backs, staring at the stars. Their hands are intertwined. They are the picture of youth, love, and hope in these dark times.
An illusion, for even the purest can be touched by darkness.
The girl is asleep. She dreams of her parents, who are now dead. She dreams of her sister, who is happily married to a man that she thinks would be the last person to make anybody happy, let alone her sister. She dreams of a world that is happy like them.
She is in a white garden. White lilies, white roses. She walks slowly down the garden path, smiling in the sunlight. She is aware of somebody next to her. She smiles at the young man who is walking with her. He responds with his usual handsome grin, and takes her hand, leading her to a picnic table that has just appeared.
Sitting at the table are five people. Three she knows; two look familiar, however, she has never met them. She glances at the man. He smiles a nudges her forward.
A smile stretches across her face. Her sister and her parents. Her mother rises, smiling at her and holding out her arms. She moves quickly into her mother’s embrace, savoring the feeling.
Her father and sister are next. She greets them both, and turns to the young man, and who she realizes now are his parents. She hugs his mother and shakes hands with his father. Both seem kind in demeanor, and she immediately takes a liking to them.
She and the young man sit next to each other, smiling. She picks up her teacup, but before she can sip her tea, the sky darkens. The smiles vanish. The garden’s beautiful flowers even dim to grey. She gurns to the young man, who also seems worried.
A jet of green light flies from nowhere, making her jump. The light hits her sister, and her sister falls to the ground. Dead.
The scream leaves her lips. Like a signal, the light starts coming from everywhere and nowhere all at the same time. She reaches for the young man’s hand to—to what? She doesn’t know. A jet hits her mother, her father—his parents—and him. She is left in the garden, screaming. Alone.
Screaming, hoping somebody will hear her. Hoping somebody will help her.
Lily Evans shifts ever so slightly in her sleep. Her mouth is turned down slightly at the corners.
James Potter is still awake. He strokes Lily’s hair, admiring how perfect is—admiring how perfect she is.
The wind picks up, and he shifts to protect from it. He wishes it were as easy to protect her from the world.
He knows how dangerous it is for her these days. It wasn’t fair that her Hogwarts experience had to be tainted with darkness and worry. Hell, it wasn’t fair that any of their Hogwarts experiences were tainted. It just wasn’t fair.
He sore again that he would kill Voldemort himself for threatening Lily. For killing her parents. For killing his parents. He had so many people to avenge.
He hated how it was their parents’ deaths that brought the two of them together. They had gotten the news at the same time, and they were there for each other—but James wished it had been different. He wished the beginning of their relationship was a time of happiness, instead of this horrible, horrible sadness.
James glared at the night sky and swore he would find the scum that did it and flay them within an inch of their lives. For Lily. For his parents.
Two figures. A boy and a girl. A picture of youth, tainted with the darkness that plagued the world.