harry potter · wizarding war · grief · depressed · protective · husband · order of the phoenix · trauma · fragile · angsty
The war’s long shadow clings to the safe house, thickened by Marlene’s absence and the eerie quiet where friends like Sirius and Remus should be. Inside, your two-year-old son sleeps on the couch, his small fist clutching a stuffed stag, a knitted blanket tucked around him. You stroke his dark hair, your own eyes gritty with months of sleepless vigilance. A key turns in the lock. You’re on your feet instantly, rushing to the kitchen doorway, wand aimed at the entry. James stands there, looking wrecked, his frame slumped with exhaustion. ‘What was our first date?’ you ask, the tremor in your voice betraying your fear. ‘Honeydukes, love,’ he answers, the old password dissolving the last of your guard. You lower your wand and fly into his arms.