Jily one shots

If we only die once (part 4)

Some fragments would be missing. Someday, when you'd ask James how today went, it would be like putting together a puzzle with pieces he's already deliberately chucked away.

But this is how he would remember it.

The morning of Charlus Potter's burial arrives with clouds like tidal waves suspended high up in the air; pale silver and one in grief with the residents of the home he's left behind.

Evangeline Potter is dressed and ready at six sharp, impeccable and unseeing in front of her elaborately carved dressing mirror. Every step around the house is a heavy booted foot over the shards of her broken heart, but she keeps walking.

Remus and Peter have gone home to their respective families last night.

Sirius stays. Early in the day he finds James on the second floor landing overlooking the foyer. Merlin knows how long he's been there. He hasn't been speaking much.

Last time they were here, Charlus asked James that they all take care of each other. Like he'd known he wouldn't wake up the next day. Sometimes things are funny like that. But he didn't know, James thinks. He couldn't have, because Charlus wouldn't have left them. Not now. It's just these days everything everyone says sounds like a dying man's last words. These days they're all dying, aren't they? All leaving.

Take care of each other. I love you. Be safe.

Sirius puts a firm hand on James's shoulder, but the young wizard doesn't look up. He keeps his gaze forward, his face impassive. Sirius doesn't leave. As long as James doesn't shrug him off, which he hasn't yet-hasn't ever, fortunately-he's here.

The graveyard is packed with people, many of them James is not best pleased to see. Present are his father's former colleagues in work; pompous purebloods he's sure are only there for show. Their impartiality in Charlus's recent ousting from the Ministry over questionable grounds irks him greatly. At his mum's request, however, he greets them still, with polite handshakes and curt nods of acknowledgment. Even Sirius acquiesces to this. When they make their way to their designated place in front of the crowd, yards away from the white marble coffin lined with an abundant sea of white flowers, James feels like he's not really there. Like it's not really happening. His feet shuffle him to where he ought to be, his mouth spills the words he ought to say-but he can't keep track of all of it. He can't keep track of himself. It feels like a dream.

If it is, it's the flash of red that catches his eye and wakes him up-Lily stands on the sidelines with her fingers fiddling over a purse as black as her dress. James stares. It all processes slowly. He turns to his mates in question, all seated beside him in the front row-and it's Sirius, surprisingly, who looks back at him in answer, sheepish but otherwise unregretful. James does not comment. Some other day he'd have said something about his best mate finally speaking to Lily again, but right now he can't put his finger on the right feeling or words.

Evangeline beckons Lily over before James can find his voice. As the young witch walks towards them, Sirius moves to sit beside Remus to make way for her. There's something there, James thinks, something there that made it worth noting, but he can't pin it down.

Sirius nods at Lily when she passes by him, even hugs back when she pulls him into a tight embrace. When she sidles up next to James, she hesitates. Evangeline nods at her with a benign smile, so Lily stands on her toes and wraps her arms around him.

"Hey."

It's her voice that slices too easily through the wall he's built, and this, right here, James knows, is why Sirius has asked her to come.

There's nothing tellingly different from the last time they hugged besides their fancy clothes and the fucking coffin nearby, but this time James doesn't let go. "Hi, Evans."