disclaimer: written by will write for food

Don't Think

"You're thinking again."

I turn my head, startled, and look you in the eye. You're on your back, the sheet coming up to about your stomach. You're watching me.

My lips curve into a slight smile, more of a smirk than anything. "Sorry."

You stretch, your arms reaching in the air and waving in front of the window. I watch them, noticing for the first time just how blue the sky is. I love early morning in the nearly-summer.

"Don't be sorry," you say. "Just stop."

The room is alight from the already beginning day. The walls are illuminated with happiness, and bright splashes of sunlight stretch across the hardwood floor that is clear, except for the occasional article of clothing that had been so carelessly discarded the night before.

I look back at you, and nearly jump to find your face right against mine. Your breath is heavy. "Good morning, Lily."

I squirm. "Hi."

You laugh, and I'm struck, although not for the first time, by the beauty of this familiar situation. No awkwardness, no blushing or forced conversation. Just you and me. James and Lily. It's always this way. There's a level of comfort between us that is puzzling. It's remarkable, really, how far we've come...

"Lily..." you whine, softly. "Stop it!"

"I'm sorry," my words come out softly, and I'm apologizing for breaking the cardinal rule, the only rule. "I don't even realize what I'm doing until I've done it."

It will continue in this way, as it has so many times before, with sweet banter and soft laughs, until one of us finally pulls away, leaving our own piece of the universe that we've claimed as our own.

I'd give anything to live forever in this single moment.

But even as we're talking, I'm thinking back to that night when it wasn't nearly-summer, but rather nearly-spring, and the evening dew on the grass, combined with the freshness of the air, was unintentionally inappropriate.

"Don't ask," you had whispered, taking my hand and leading me out of the castle. "Don't even think. Just bask in the knowledge we can live tonight."

There were tears heavy in your voice, and I struggled not to let my mind wander to the next day, when you would be apparating back to the Potter Manor, for the funeral services being held for your father, who had been killed in this ever-looming, ever-growing war.

But I knew you were thinking. I knew you were going over in your head whether it was worth it. Whether leaving, fighting, in this terrible war would make a difference. And my eyes clouded with tears as I could practically hear you wondering if one more boy, one more soul to be wasted, would even make a difference.

And the thought of you thinking this was killing me, so I held your hand tighter, and murmured in your ear, "Don't think."

You looked away, but I knew you listened, and I knew that that would only ever be our one rule.

Don't think.

We were walking through the grass, now, beyond the greenhouses, making our way not towards the forest, but more towards the Quidditch pitch. But it didn't matter, really, where we were going. It just mattered that we were together.

And we didn't say a word. None were needed, nor wanted. All day you had been receiving condolences, hearing sympathies and words of encouragement to which you had no response.

No, our relationship was beyond words. Silence was perfectly adequate, however loud that silence may have been.

In fact, it was only hours later, when we were back in the Gryffindor common room that I even thought to say anything at all.

"I love you, James."

And I'm not a boastful person, but I suspect that those four words the most sympathetic, most encouraging, most soothing ones that you had heard all day.

And the next morning, you didn't seem cheerful, but you did seem eager to begin again. You wanted that new beginning that was promised by sunrise.

In the present, it is you, as it turns out, who finally glances at the clock and begins to rouse yourself from your morning stupor. I laugh at you, albeit only teasingly, as you scrounge around for enough articles of clothing to make the journey to the bathroom with dignity.

It's not long before I, too, start my day. I can't quite say that I'm looking forward to hearing whatever bad news I know is probably awaiting us, but it's inevitable.

We've spent the night hiding, but it's time to face the world. Even the sun and the moon take their turns being disguised and being revealed.

You've returned from the bathroom now, and speak about meeting for lunch, perhaps making more wedding plans before the Order meeting tonight. We both know that we probably won't, that some emergency will probably come up, but it's nice to pretend, even for a few minutes.

No matter what may happen, it's invigorating to know that we will have the darkness to recuperate, to heal and be healed in our personal sanctuary, before stepping out to meet the world again.

Before reaching out to start anew.