Harry Potter Hollow Love

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the creation and property of J K Rowling. I am making no profit from my writing.  
  
He hadn't come home that night. He wouldn't come home that night: if he was late. Lily shut her eyes, stroking the cheek of the sleeping baby she had let lie in bed with her that night. Harry slept on, oblivious and unmoving, except for the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Lily wondered if his father was breathing right now.  
  
James was an auror. They had all been aurors, truth be told, although Lily had quit the moment she found out she was pregnant. She knew that she couldn't fight, couldn't put herself at risk whilst she carried the baby within her. The pregnancy itself had been easy enough, but horrible: James refused to retire alongside her. Money was not an issue, with his inheritance they could have lived comfortably together for the rest of their lives, with enough spare to give little Harry more than a decent start also. But James, dear, brave James, couldn't walk away from the fight that they both knew, but refused to accept, they were losing. He had raged, as Lily wept, saying that he couldn't bring a child into a world where he had sat back and done nothing, while Lily choked on sobs that stung with guilt that she had done exactly that. And so he had left her each day, in that house made so much bigger by its lack of company, with nothing to do but fear for the future of the baby whose only concern in the world just then was kicking at her bladder.  
  
But then he was born, baby Harry, and James did indeed take time off from his dangerous job and stay with them: a family, together in the house that was warm and loving, not big or empty any more. Harry grew and learned. Lily and James laughed together at the adorable noises he learned to make, and their hearts nearly burst when he learned to smile, first at Lily and then at James.  
  
James was holding Harry's hand one night, keeping him upright so his wife could take a photograph of their little boy, a full six months now, when there was a sound at the door. Two dull raps and a thud. Lily scooped Harry into her arms and put him in his pram, then wheeled that into the kitchen as James opened the door. Lily gasped as she returned; her husband was helping a beaten and bloody man into their living room and onto their clean couch. But it wasn't the state of her immaculate house that caused Lily's gasp, it was the man. Sirius Black, as invincible as her husband, was lying before her, severely wounded.  
  
She sent James to the floo, while she went to Sirius' side: she had done much better in the short medical magic course during Auror training than James had. Soon, she and Molly Weasley had Sirius healed as best they could, cleaned up, and asleep on the couch. Sirius was reckless and bold, and although aurors were fully entitled to the services of the staff at St Mungo's Hospital, it was often difficult to ascertain whether he was doing auror work, work for the Order, or simply freelance revenge. Sirius Black was a man with a lot of time on his hands, and the energy to use it well. Lily Potter loved him like a brother.  
  
James left them the next day: left Lily and Harry alone in the house that was big and empty again. It was nicer here with Harry than it had been when she was all alone, but it wasn't the same any more. Lily knew it would be only a matter of time before James would end up like Sirus-or worse. Siruis, at least, had made a full recovery, and had apologised to Lily so many times for taking her husband away from her. She had wept and raged, but finally embraced her friend. It was not his fault: it had only been a matter of time before James let his duty steal him away from his family.  
  
She had cried, that first day. Cried as Harry cried: him on his back, screaming for his mother, she curled into a ball on the couch, knowing that it would be useless to scream for her husband. He wouldn't come for her.  
  
James never stopped loving them, never stopped caring. Despite this- because of this-he pushed himself harder and harder every day. His young body was scarred, burned, a few of his bones even broken-but those breaks were quickly healed by the aurors' complement of mediwitches and wizards, and he never missed a day. He found as much time for his family as he could, when he had a spare moment.  
  
Dumbledore himself came the next day, and explained what had happened. He spoke with Lily, and escorted her and Harry St Mungo's. James was out within two days, but was forced to stay home for a further week. Lily almost found it in her heart to be grateful to the Death Eaters who had hurt him so, for it was during this week that he listened to her, finally acquiesced to her begging. Her begging, and Dumbledore's frank assessment of the risk. Their old Headmaster, their current leader, appealed to James' sense of danger: not to the world, not to simply himself, but to his family.  
  
James finally agreed.  
  
Sirius came that night. His hair was longer now, his body as scarred as James'. His black eyes still shone, but not with humour any longer. Rage and hate and passion motivated their old friend now. They kept their voices light, so as to not scare the baby, who was not truly a baby any longer. Sirius played idly with Harry, barely attending to the boy who giggled and climbed about his godfather and parents. Lily held him for a short moment, clutching him close to her; she buried her face in his soft hair for a moment, and missed the look of sorrow that passed through Sirius' eyes.  
  
Sirius would not agree.  
  
They understood his reasons, and agreed with his suggestion. He caught Harry into his arms, and tossed him into the air, catching him as he came down again, and ruffled the boy's dark hair as Harry squealed. He embraced James, and turned as Lily stood. Sirius touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers, smudging away the single tear that she had not been able to contain. He kissed her forehead gently, and left as Peter arrived. He knew they would be safe.  
  
Lily had her family again, and was happy. Harry learned to climb the stairs, and they ate dinner as a family each night. They had no contact with the outside world, but they didn't need it, for they were together. The house was cosy and warm, and filled with love.  
  
And at night, Lily would hold her son in her arms, her husband holding them both. The touch of Harry's and James' skin burned against her own when she thought how close she had come to losing them both. 


End file.

Harry Potter