“Gobllesdowskit.”

Little Harry continued to chew a toy. “Gobblesdowskit.”

“Don’t tell me that’s his first word, Lils,” James entreated.

“I don’t doubt it will be, if you tuck him in, every night,” Lily shot back. She wore a silver dress that flowed down to her flats.

“Who are you supposed to be? The White Witch?”

“Actually, yes.”

James adjusted his witch’s hat and snickered. “Now we’re both witches.”

Lily sighed. “You’re impossible.”


*

It was eleven. She had managed to convince James to take off his costume - he sat on the sofa, with Harry, now.

“We should put him to bed, James.”

He nodded. Lily followed him into the bedroom – let him tuck Harry in – before kissing her son, and settling into bed. James sat by her and, in the candlelight, he thought she looked lovely.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. Even when you dress yourself up as a witch, and Harry as a broomstick.” He felt the smile in her words, as she buried her head into his chest and, his arms around her, they fell asleep.

It was the last good moment they shared.

- Before the gates broke down, before fate intervened, before Voldemort’s demise began.