The End

James

 31st of October, 1981

It had all happened so fast.

One minute, they were dancing to ABBA in the kitchen, Harry on Lily's hip, they were both swaying around, laughing and having fun, it was almost as if everything was normal.

Except it wasn't.

The next minute, the alarm went off, alerting them that someone was heading towards their house. And James knew. He knew it wasn't Peter coming to check on them, it was far too late for that. He knew it was him.

And Lily knew too.

They only had about thirty seconds before he would be at the front door. Thirty seconds to try and save themselves. Thirty seconds to get Lily and Harry away.

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!" he shouted.

She tried to protest but it was no use, she had to get Harry away, even if that had meant leaving James behind. They shared one last tiny peck on the lips.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he said repeatedly as she ran up the stairs.

Just then, the door burst open, bits of wood flying everywhere. James reached for his wand when he realised.

Shit. I left my wand on the couch.

In the spur of the moment, James had forgotten his fucking wand. He was certain to die now.

He didn't care though, it wouldn't matter if he died. As long as Lily and Harry were safe. As long as they were okay. He would give his life in an instant, without a second of doubt, if it meant that they would be safe. Because they were his world, his everything, nothing would matter if they were gone. Life wouldn't matter then.

He would go to his death, bravely, he would not beg for his life, it would be of no use. He would be a true Gryffindor.

The man that stood before him was nothing short of a monster. He was heavily disfigured, with only two slits for a nose. He was tall, slender and his skin had a sickly colour to it. As if he hadn't seen the sun in years. James had been expecting it, it was no surprise, he had gotten out of Voldemort's clutches three times already, so he had seen the "man" before. And yet he couldn't wipe the absolute face of disgust upon seeing the dark lord.

What a shame it is that I'll be killed by such an ugly fucking shitty excuse of a man.

Voldemort stood before James at the entrance of the house, clearly expecting James to do something. But he didn't. Doing something would've just gotten him killed quicker and he just needed Lily and Harry to try and get away, since he was going to die anyway.

Voldemort raised his wand about to aim the curse, but that's when James lifted his hand up, his right thumb in between his index and middle finger.

"I got your fucking nose," he spat out.

His last hurrah.

Voldemort shouted the killing curse, his voice full of anger and venom.

The whole ordeal had started and finished so quickly, it had only been about two minutes. And yet it felt like hours. Especially as he saw that green light heading his way, he knew in less than a second he would be nothing more than a corpse, but everything seemed to slow down and he could think.

Peter. What happened to Peter? Voldemort must have gotten to him. Poor, poor Pete. he didn't deserve this.

Remus. Sirius. What would happen to them? Merlin, James couldn't imagine what their reaction would be to finding out he's dead. It would be horrible. At least they have each other, yes they'll get through it. They'll be fine.

Lily. oh, god. Lily, Lily, Lily. Lily Evans Potter. His wife. His beloved wife. The woman he had been in love with ever since day one. She better be okay. She better live. She needed to live, James needed her to live. Why, why did they have so little time together? Why?

Harry. Harry his son, his everything, his quidditch pro-to-be. Harry had to be okay. He would live, just like his mother. And they would have a happy life because someone would finally defeat Voldemort. Uncle moony and uncle Padfoot would come round every other day and have dinner. He would be fine. Everyone else would be fine. It would just be Peter and James gone. The others would get over it eventually.

James was scared shitless. He hadn't shown it. Not to Lily for the last few seconds he had with her, not to Voldemort, and not even to himself. But as that Light came closer and closer he could feel every last bit of it.

He didn't want to die. He was young, so young, only 21 years old. He had practically his whole life ahead of him. He wanted to grow old with Lily, see his son become a man, see his friends start their own families, see a change in the world. He wanted to see the world no longer prejudiced against werewolves, he wanted to see his two best friends get married to each other.

But he couldn't.

Because he was about to die.

The curse hit him.