Disclaimer: Harry Potter, his past, his present and his
future belong to J.K Rowling. I’m only borrowing them. Godspeed (Sweet Dreams)
is an extremely beautiful, poignant song written by Radney
Foster and sung by the Dixie Chicks, which I am also only borrowing. No
infringement on any copyrights is intended.
Dragon tales and the Water is wide
Pirates sail and lost boys fly
Fish bite moonbeams every night
And I love you
The sun was setting on Diagon
Alley on a Tuesday night, reflecting gold off the few people who still hobbled
up and down the cobbled streets, gazing at the glowing storefronts. A man with
perpetually messy black hair and glasses sliding half-way down his long nose
was staring, awe-struck at a tiny toy broom in his hands, standing in the shadows
just beyond the entrance to Quality Quidditch
“It’s the best they’ve got, Lily, closest thing to
a real broom. The technology has really come along….”
Lily hefted the baby on her hip and rolled her
eyes. She could hear James continuing his rant inside the store rather than
actually see him—the setting sun was starting to blind her but she wouldn’t
walk back in there for her life. The smell of the broom polish had nearly
suffocated her, not to mention the dust. Besides, Harry liked watching the
colors and people and things in the street better anyway. Though, she did wish
James wouldn’t linger so long. It was getting late.
“I don’t know about getting him a broom period,”
she called warningly. She knew James’ face had fallen, despite the shadows
camouflaging him. “I don’t know if it’s safe and I don’t want him endangered….”
“Come on, Lil, he’ll have
to learn to fly sometime if he’s going to be a big Quidditch
star…which he will be, what with my genes and all.” She shot a deprecating look
in his direction. “What?! Do you expect him to just
jump up and start flying?!” he snorted at the idea.
“Actually there’s a Muggle
fairy tale where boys do that. Peter Pan, they call it. It was one of my
James wasn’t listening, though. Truly, he was
hopeless. She shook her head, smoothing down Harry’s hair as the baby laid his
head on her chest and watched the fountain at the end of the street. Fish were
jumping in the air, their scaly backs catching the rays of the setting sun and
glittering magnificently in the cool and sparkling
water. Lily heard a man nearby boasting about his recent battle with a dragon,
claiming he had fought it single handedly and saved a damsel in distress to
boot. His voice echoed down the nearly empty street easily, entertaining Lily.
She could see the reflection of the man’s gaudy orange cloak in Harry’s bright
eyes as he watched, mesmerized. Harry was watching all the movements of the people,
the signs, the colors—the world shined in his infant eyes. Lily only wished she
could see with the wonder he did. Plastered on the side of a dilapidated
building across the way, a wanted poster glared at Lily. Out of its somber
depths, thirteen sets of eyes stared—the evil, calculating eyes of some of Voldemort’s favorite henchmen. It seemed such a cruel
reminder of the war in this peaceful place. Lily shuddered and pulled Harry
closer to her.
“This man says they’re as safe as they come, Lily,”
James was saying desperately, blissfully unaware of her thoughts, the stout
store owner now standing at his side. Lily turned around at his voice and
considered the two, who had emerged into the light. “Says he’ll give us a
bottom price now too, as it’s closing time and they’re
going on clearance tomorrow. Come on, it can’t hurt anything. Come on, Lily…”
He gave her his best puppy dog eyes. The sheen of the broom caught Harry’s
sight and James seized the opportunity. “Look, Harry loves it. He can’t take
his eyes off it!”
Lily looked down at the baby; whose eye lids were
slowly drifting shut now, the reflection of the shining broom fading as he
slowly slumped against her chest again in drowsiness. “Yes, he’s absolutely
thrilled about it, I can tell.”
“Lily!” James begged. He looked like he was about
to wet himself from the want of the broom.
“We should get home soon. He needs to be put down
to bed,” Lily said.
“Can we buy it? Please? I promise he won’t get
hurt. I won’t let anything happen….please?!”
She sighed, “I really shouldn’t have let you come
in here. It’s nothing but trouble.” His hazel eyes widened in a silent plea. It
was no use. They’d kept the poor owner here too long as it was. “Fine,” she
said with a certain resignation. “Buy the broom then.”
James let out a shout of glee that made it sound as
if he had just discovered that fairy tales really did come true. Lily smiled
slightly, kissed the top of her son’s head tenderly, and gazed at their golden
surroundings, alight with magic and wonder--like a fairytale. If only it would
stay that way.
Godspeed little man
Sweet Dreams little man
Oh, my love will fly to you each
night on angel's wings
Godspeed (Sweet Dreams)
The sound of the Wireless drifted lazily into the
dark bedroom as Lily did up the last buttons of Harry’s pajamas. She leaned
down and breathed the smell of him in. Baby powder and cooked carrots, that’s
what he smelled like. Lily smiled at the memory--of all things she thought
Sirius would do, she had never anticipated that he would actually engage in a
food fight with a one year old—but that seemed a long time ago now. Presently,
she could hear the low, heated voices of James and Sirius talking about grave,
somber matters in the next room. But Harry gurgled happily at her regardless
and she hefted him into her arms, walking out into the kitchen where Sirius and
Daddy awaited goodnight biddings.
“I don’t know what he’s planning, but whatever it
is, I want you to keep safe, right? Don’t do anything reckless and stupid—we
need you.” James was saying, as Lily and Harry entered. He was sitting at the
table across from Sirius, pinning him with an intense stare.
“Don’t tell me about being reckless and stupid—I
can take care of myself. It’s you I worry about, mate. I don’t want you running
off and risking your own neck again with that bloody nobility obsession of
yours. You have a family now,” Sirius shot back.
“Yeah, I do. And you have a godson now and I’d like
to be assured that if anything should happen…and I’m not saying it will,” he
added quickly, seeing the look on Sirius’ face. “I want to know you’re still
Lily walked over and clicked off the Wireless,
which wasn’t being listened to anyway. Only then did her husband and Sirius
notice she had entered the room. She smiled wanly at them. “Harry here wanted
to say goodnight.”
“Are you going to sleep then?” James asked
conversationally, eager to change the topic.
“It depends on how easily he falls asleep,” she
shrugged slightly and added, “I might wait up for you.” Sirius had now plugged
his fingers in his ears and started humming loudly. James kicked him hard under
the table and smirked innocently back at Lily.
“Okay, I’ll be up in a bit,” he said, rising and
kissing Lily and Harry on the cheek.
Sirius got up and shook Harry’s pudgy hand, his
fingers now removed from his ears. “It was a good fight you put up today,
Harry.” Sirius glanced at the orange collar of his shirt. “But I hear that your
dad has bought you a broom so much more mischief lies in our future, my little
fellow.” He leaned over and kissed Harry on the cheek too, Harry batting Sirius
with his other hand and manufacturing quite an amazing amount of drool. “I’ll
see you tomorrow, then. G’night, little man.”
Lily took Harry’s pudgy hand in her own and waved
at Sirius and James, walking upstairs to the nursery. She heard them talking
after she left:
“So, what can this toy broom do? How high can it
go?” Sirius inquired, folding back into his chair at the table.
“Two feet, but I think I can make it go higher with
a few simple charms,” James answered confidently, rotating his tea cup in his
“Only two feet? I’ll bet
we can make it go at least five. Let’s see this bugger…where do you store it?”
Sirius muttered, getting up and following James, who was already leading him in
the direction of the toy box.
Lily sighed, smiling slightly. What they wouldn’t
do to make sure Harry could fly as high as possible, she didn’t know.
The rocket racer's all tuckered out
Superman's in pajamas on the couch
Goodnight moon we'll find the mouse
And I love you
James lay with Harry on the bed, a tangled mess of
bedclothes twisted around them. He bounced Harry on his knee to screams of
delight, grinning up into the laughing baby’s radiant face.
“Who’s my big boy? Is that Harry? I think that’s
Harry. He’s bouncing and bouncing and bouncing…up in the air…”
Harry clapped his hands and giggled. James lifted
him high and brought him down close to his nose, burying his face in Harry’s
bare belly and blowing a loud raspberry at which Harry giggled more and patted
the top of James’ head with his pudgy hands. “There’s my Harry. There he is.”
He threw him up into the air and caught him. Harry laughed louder but his mum,
curled on the other side of his dad with a big picture book in her hands,
“I’ve got him,” James reassured Lily and then
stretched his arms up high again, holding Harry above his head, “Don’t I,
Harry? You’re perfectly safe….” Harry put his pudgy arms up high, saying he wanted
to go up again, giggling. “Want to fly? We can make you fly.” James threw Harry
into the air again and caught him. “Look at him go,
Lily. We’ve got a Quidditch star on our hands. A
natural, he is.” James smiled broadly. “I always knew he’d love the air….just
like his daddy, isn’t he?”
“Just like his daddy all right: nothing but
trouble. Honestly, I don’t know how I’m supposed to read a bedtime story to you
two if you won’t stay put!”
“Hear that, Harry? Bedtime story.
I figure mummy wants us to land,” he whispered conspiratorially to the baby and
then with a whoosh, brought him down between his parents. James rolled over and
threw a leg over his wife. He looked at Lily expectantly; his glasses askew,
his hair sticking up at odd angles and his son trying to crawl back up onto his
chest again. He looked so ridiculous and perfectly endearing that Lily felt
that if she kept looking at him, her heart just might burst. She averted her
Their bedroom wasn’t exactly neat. Socks were
strewn all over the bed, all of theirs. They were different colors, patterns,
shapes and sizes. A few were thrown across the headboard. Harry’s pajamas lay
abandoned at the foot of the bed, his mum’s slippers left beside them. The
baby’s toys were scattered on the floor, where they had left them the other day
when James had been playing with him. Harry loved it when his daddy played with
him. Beaming at the memory, Lily’s eyes fell on James’ invisibility cloak,
obscuring half the bedroom door and his bulky leather Auror
boots thrown haphazardly on the rug and her smile dimmed. Next to the portrait
of their little family, the heavy black curtains hung on the windows
contrasting coldly with the warmth of the rest of the room. The thick,
important-looking files on their bedside table looked out of place next to
bottles and pacifiers. No, neither James nor she had ever been much for
organization; Lily thought sardonically, their life was never meant to be a
Lily looked down at the big picture book in her
hands. Large, shining illustrations glowed back at her, their occupants
fidgeting under her gaze, waiting to be admired and enjoyed by infant eyes. One
person waved at her and she laughed for some inexplicable reason. Maybe it was
just the moment, in all its melancholy peculiarity. “Well, it’s no use now, is
it?” she said, nodding at Harry. “Go on, you can play with Daddy more.” Harry
clawed at his dad’s chest still, clearly wanting back up. Lily laughed softly,
“Mummy’s just a bore, isn’t she?”
James laughed, “No, no, Mummy’s not boring--Mummy’s
our favorite playmate!” He leaned over and kissed Lily full on the mouth and
though she wanted to scold him for his bad pun, it amazed her how he could
still make her melt, even after all the hardships and the stress and a thousand
other little things.
“James!” she reprimanded in mock outrage. “There’re
children present!” She could feel the corners of her mouth lifting, quite
against her will. She glanced down at Harry who had taken a seat between them
now and was clapping his hands gleefully, his eyes locked on his mum and dad.
“What? Harry knows how much I love his mum!” James
stretched out an arm and gathered Harry up to them, nuzzling his wild black
fuzz. He kissed the baby’s cheek loudly, making a theatrical smacking noise. Then,
James whispered into Harry’s ear, to the delight of the infant: “I love your
mum so very, very much, Harry; and I love you more than you could ever know.”
James felt a hand on the top of his head, trying to
smooth his unruly hair. He lifted his eyes and saw Lily’s pure green ones.
“You’re such a loveable idiot,” she said.
James kissed her again.
A few moments later they felt the soft padding of a
baby crawling up the mattress and then James felt a warm and pudgy hand against
his face. He opened his eyes and saw his son giggling, one hand patting each of
his parents’ cheeks.
Lily laughed that ringing, beautiful laugh that
James would do anything to hear and pulled Harry toward her. “Come here, you
silly little munchkin,” she murmured.
James wrapped his arms around the both of them,
grinning. “Mummy and Daddy love you sooo much, Harry.
You’re our good little man, our big boy,” he crooned but his son didn’t seem to
hear the words at all this time. Harry teetered between them and then collapsed
against his mother’s chest, fast asleep.
“Our little man is all tired out.” Lily whispered
James nodded, kissing the top of Harry’s head,
“Sweet dreams, Harry. Sleep tight.”
Godspeed little man
Sweet Dreams little man
Oh, my love will fly to you each
night on angel's wings
Godspeed (Sweet Dreams)
She was framed in a shaft of moonlight by the
window, rocking slowly back and forth, back and forth, alone in the nursery
with Harry pressed to her bosom. It had been a long time since the baby had
cried out in the middle of the night; a long time since she had left her warm
spot in bed next to James to come rock him back to sleep. Some part of her
wanted to go back to that warm place beside her husband, some part of her
wanted to return to sleep, to put Harry back in his crib and pretend that
everything was normal, but there was another part of her, a stronger part, that
kept her here, rocking back and forth in this dark nursery with her infant son
clutched to her chest, the soft rise and fall of his sleeping breath calm
against the heaving of hers.
Standing in the doorway, James knew that she was
aware of his presence. He had tried to enter quietly, but she knew though she
never turned away from the window. And somehow James knew that she feared the
moment when he would speak, when he would ask her to come back to bed, when he
would try to comfort her, to tell her it was all right--somehow he knew she
feared the moment when he would ask her what the matter was. But James could
never stand it when Lily cried and he felt even worse when he didn’t know what
she was crying for, when he didn’t know how he could make things better.
“Lily?” His voice sounded lonely in the room, like
he was the only person present, though Lily’s soft sniffles testified
otherwise. He took a few cautious steps forward. “Lily, you should really go to
bed. Harry’s fine, he’s asleep now. You can come to bed. We’ve a long day ahead
of us tomorrow.”
She kept staring out of the window, staring at the
black night sky and James became a bit unnerved. Harry’s toy broom hung
paralyzed in the middle of the air, a consequence of Sirius’ attempted
improvements and it lent a preternatural quality to the place that chilled him.
The room was bathed in night, making everything look ominous and strange. And
Lily kept staring out of the window. The moonlight reflected eerily on her wet
cheek and if he didn’t know better, he would’ve thought her an exquisite
sculpture, this scene a masterful and mournful painting. But it wasn’t. It was
very real and James felt his composure falter, his heart constrict painfully,
as he fell into a nearby armchair wearily.
“It’s the middle of the night, Lily. We should
catch our sleep while we can, you know,” he tried but she didn’t move.
“Lily, please.” She didn’t say anything. He wished
she wouldn’t do this right now. James leaned his head back. “Please, I can’t
handle this right now.” She snorted softly and James had the distinct
impression that she thought his comment very selfish. Starting to feel
defensive, he snapped, “I’m trying, Lil, but I feel
like I’m all alone here. I can’t talk to myself forever, you know. You have to
tell me what the matter is.” Upon his last statement, James saw a fresh stream
of tears fall from her eyes. He felt a pang of guilt.
“You know, I can’t fall asleep without knowing
you’re safe beside me. You need to take care of both your babies, Harry can’t
have all the fun,” James joked, trying to lighten the situation but not even
the slightest flicker of a smile crossed her face. Even humor couldn’t get him out
of this one.
He sighed. When it got down to it, James knew what
the matter was. He knew why both of them lost hours of sleep every night, why
Lily was crying now, why he felt like crying now. James knew but he hated
talking about it. He hated talking about it because when they did, it seemed
that much more real.
“Don’t leave me here alone, Lily. I can’t handle
this alone,” his voice was hoarse, strained, like he was struggling against
something that could destroy him if it ever burst out in full intensity. “Talk
to me, please. I need you to talk to me.” Again, only silence answered him.
“Okay. Okay, that’s fine. But come to bed, Lily. Put Harry in his crib, we
should really go to sleep…”
“Do you ever wonder whether he’ll know how much we
love him if something should happen to us?” Lily asked. Her voice wavered
feebly, it was tear filled and faltering but very few things had hit James with
as much force in his life. Was that what she worried about? Was that why she
was here, crying? He didn’t know…he didn’t know how to handle this.
“Nothing’s going to happen to us. We’ll…we’ll be
fine. I swear we will,” he finally answered but even James didn’t believe
himself. He blinked hard.
“I’m not saying anything will happen,” she said,
her voice still wet and wavering but steadily growing in strength. “but sometimes I wonder…if something happens to us, will
Sirius know to stop and let Harry point at the pictures when he reads him his
bedtime story the way we do? And what about the feeding—a baby is a lot to take
care of for a bachelor, no matter how good his intentions may be—and sometimes
you really can’t tell when Harry’s hungry unless you know what to look for. And
will he know to hold Harry a lot? He likes to be held and cuddled with, it
calms him and will he know to….to tell him…” Lily looked up at James for the
first time that night. He wished she hadn’t.
Lily’s eyes were like pensieves—if
only one knew how to read their mysterious depths all her thoughts, feelings
and memories were open to them. And James knew how to read them—he had known
for many years how to decipher the secrets of those bewitching green pools. And
now, James saw in her eyes the absolute terror she felt, the helplessness, the
pain, the heartache and the overwhelming love she held for their son, who
possessed her very same emerald green eyes. James saw reflected in Lily’s eyes
the same emotions that boiled, suppressed, deep inside of him.
“Sirius, Peter and Remus
will take care of Harry for us, Lily, if….if anything should happen.
They’ll…they’ll tell him…” James choked on his words. He screwed up his face
and buried it in his hands. This was so hard. “They’ll….they’ll tell him how
much we…love him,” he mumbled, but his forced words were only weak comfort at
best. All of them lived a precarious existence—there was no guarantee that any
would survive this war, no guarantee that Harry wouldn’t be shuffled off to who
knows where or even killed. James shuddered at the mere thought.
Harry. Everything came back to that child—he was
James’ whole life, the reason for his existence. Sometimes James found himself
pulling himself out of bed in the morning and reporting to Dumbledore solely
out of his love for Harry. Sometimes, when he was ducking Death Eaters’ hexes,
he found himself sustained by the thought of his infant son. Harry was the
reason he kept fighting this war—kept fighting so that someday Harry and other
children like him may live in a world where there was no terror and no war, where
there was no Voldemort. If there was anything that
redeemed James’ life—redeemed him for all his errant youth, his stupidity and
recklessness, his foolishness and his bullying—it was Harry and the love that
created him. James’ body heaved with a dry sob. There were no words…
“I’m sorry, James,” Lily said and he felt Lily’s
hand rest on his shoulder, rubbing his back comfortingly. “I’m sorry that I
can’t control these fears but…” she broke off shakily but started again, “but
sometimes I’m terrified that I’m going wake up and find Harry gone, that he’ll
be lost to us forever and...James, I can’t stand that. I want to hold on to him
forever, James. I want to…I want to know him. I want him to know us, James. I
don’t want to….I don’t want to leave my baby,” she dissolved.
Blindly, James sought her hand and brought it down
to his face, kissing her fingers and shushing her softly. “I know, Lily. I
know,” he rasped, screwing up his eyes against the emotions.
“I’m just being silly,” she laughed damply,
“Really, you’re right. We should just go to bed. I’ve wasted enough time as it
is…” She pulled away, her hand slipping softly out of James’ embrace. He looked
up at her departure, watched as she cradled Harry above his crib, gently laying
him down under his blanket.
The moonlight gilded her in silver, shined on her
skin, reflected off her hair. Its pale glow enveloped her as she bent above her
son, her hand caressing his cheek, cherishing every part of him. James heard
her whisper lovingly, “I love you, Harry. I love you more than you’ll ever,
ever know. I love you more than words can express. I love you more than myself,
more than my life, more than the world. I love you, I love you; I love you. I
love you, my little Harry, my darling baby boy, my beautiful, beautiful son. I
love you…” Tears dropped down, one by one, catching the moonlight in their
watery brilliance—like small diamonds raining from her eyes. James felt streams
run down his own cheeks, watching his family. He rose up from his chair and
walked over to them, slipping his arm around Lily’s waist, holding her close to
him while they both gazed down at their still sleeping son.
“I love you, Harry. I love you more than I’ll ever
be able to express. I love you so much, so very, very much. I love you, Harry.
I love you, my son, my little man, my baby boy. I love you, I love you; I love
you. I love you until eternity and back. I love you. You are the reason for my
life and when I’m gone, whenever that is, Harry, I want you to know above all
else that I love you. Whatever else I may have done, whatever else happens, I
love you, I love you, I love you forever,” James whispered as Lily chanted her
He stroked back Harry’s hair knowing it would never
settle down—it was just like his hair. Throughout his life, Harry would look in
the mirror and see a spitting image of his father but James wanted the original
to be there. James wanted to see Harry mature into an individual, to grow up,
he wanted to know him and he wanted his son to know his father, to see him daily.
He wanted to hear himself be called dad. But, lacking this, James wanted his
son to know that he was a good man, that though he may have made many mistakes
in his life, he ultimately fought for what was right, what was true and good.
James wanted Harry to know that he
loved him, that he would love him beyond his own life, that he would love him
James felt Lily burrow into his chest, her tears
dampening his pajamas. He wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her to
him, kissing the top of her head, murmuring softly and gazing through bleary
eyes at his baby, still sleeping soundly in his crib.
They never left the nursery that night. When
morning’s light touched them, they were curled together in the armchair beside
the crib, hair matted and eyes red rimmed. Neither had wanted to leave their
son, even for a few hours, instead wanting to be there for him, to see him and
touch him while they could—as if they anticipated some imminent tragedy. They
didn’t want to leave their baby.
But as long as Harry remembered them, James and
Lily would never leave.
God bless Mommy and matchbox cars
God bless Dad and thanks for the
God hears "amen" wherever
And I love you
Harry had figured out a long time ago how to
unlatch his cupboard door from the inside and he used that knowledge now,
wriggling out from his tiny nook under the stairs onto the cold tile floor of
the Dursley’s front hall. The whole house was quiet
and dark, the peace broken only by Uncle Vernon’s snores and the occasional
creaking of bedsprings as he shifted in his sleep. Harry wished he could sleep
too but tonight his mind wouldn’t leave him alone. He scrabbled up on his feet
and pushed open the living room door, being careful not to make any noise—Aunt
Petunia slept lightly.
The plush carpet of the living room made little
noise as Harry’s small feet padded across it and his tiny frame sat down beside
the cabinet where Aunt Petunia stashed all of Dudley’s
toys downstairs. Silently, Harry pulled open the cabinet door and brought out
the toys one by one. Dudley got all of the greatest
toys. Matchbox cars, video games, action figures—he got everything he wanted
and Harry got nothing at all. Harry pushed one of the toy cars around on the
carpet, imprinting little tracks on the rug as he rolled it around himself,
making quiet “vrooming” noises in the dark.
Harry wished he had toys. He wished he’d be allowed
to play, that Dudley would let him share. Harry wished
that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would give him something besides a tissue or
an old pair of socks for each holiday. He wished that they’d be nice to him
sometimes or at least stop Dudley from beating him up.
Harry never got any attention from his aunt and uncle, never got any sign of
love or affection while Dudley was smothered with kisses
and hugs and gifts. Harry told himself that he shouldn’t care, that he
shouldn’t care about these things; that they didn’t matter because his aunt and
uncle were mean people and they were just trying to show him that he didn’t
matter. Really, Harry didn’t need a lot of toys, he didn’t need to be smothered
in shows of affection, didn’t need a lot of worthless things to make him happy.
He just needed to know he was cared for.
On a lot of lonely, bleak nights Harry found
himself wondering about his parents: if his parents had lived would he have his
own toys too, would he have his own bedroom to sleep in, his own place to play?
Would his mum have read him bedtime stories? Would she have tucked him in,
kissed him goodnight and left a nightlight on in case he got afraid of the
dark? Would his dad have played games with him? Would his parents have hugged
him and held him and comforted him? Would they have told him they loved him? If
his parents had lived, would Harry be happier? He thought so.
Harry stopped pushing the toy car around in circles
and looked out the window. A streetlight illuminated the garden, the moon
floating above in a hazy dark blue expanse. Harry wished his mum and dad hadn’t
died in that car crash. He wished that he didn’t have to wonder about whether
they would have given him this, or done that for him. He wished he didn’t have
to wonder what their faces looked like, what their voices sounded like. Harry
wished he knew for sure how his parents loved him. But sometimes, in the middle
of the night like this, when he was all alone wondering about his
parents—sometimes he thought he could hear the barest whisper of a man and a
woman saying, “I love you, Harry.” And then his parents didn’t seem that lost
to him after all.
Godspeed little man Sweet Dreams
Oh, my love will fly to you each night on
Godspeed (Sweet Dreams)
A/N I remember when I was four or five--my great grandfather
had just died and I started wondering for the first time about death. I asked
my mom about it when she tucked me in one night—would she die someday? Yes, she
would and I would someday too, probably a long time from now. And then I asked
if she would die to protect me and she said yes, if she had to, without any
hesitation. I’m not a parent but I am a daughter and I hope that I’ve portrayed
James and Lily and their trials as parents adequately. Please review, I love