Jily oneshots

Mr and Mrs Potter

by WeasleyWannabee

James makes one final adjustment to his sniper rifle stand, checking its balance on the small table he's shoved up against the wall under a broken window. A light breeze slips around the jagged panes of glass that remain, gently tousling the curls of dark hair that have fallen over James's forehead. He combs them back impatiently with his fingers. Wrapping a corner of his jacket around his hand, he punches out the rest of the glass in the window, leaving a clear path for the muzzle of his rifle.

He kneels on the dusty carpet of the abandoned office building, peering through his scope to check its focus. Satisfied, he picks up the radio on the windowsill and speaks into it.

"Royal, this is Prongs. I'm in position."

There's a burst of static, then Kingsley's voice crackles through. "Copy that, Prongs. Moony's going to be your eyes from up here—you'll go on his signal. Padfoot, do you read?" A low buzz of static is the only response. "Padfoot," Kingsley tries again, "check in."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here," comes Sirius's irritated voice. "Christ, Royal, you just radioed two minutes ago, where could I have gone?"

"I don't think you want him to answer that, Padfoot," Remus notes dryly.

"Don't make me ask for you twice again," Kingsley adds sternly.

Sirius chirps back with false sincerity, "Aye-aye, Captain."

James smirks to himself as he once again hefts his rifle against his shoulder, squinting through the scope at the street below. The late afternoon sun glints off the windows of the building opposite, coloring them in brilliant orange and gold. Though James has a good view of the surrounding area, he's relying on Remus to identify their target, as he's been kept purposefully in the dark about who they're after. It's a system they've used for the past six months, limiting the information provided to the whole team as a way to prevent the very incident James now struggles to push from his mind. He had just managed to convince Kingsley he was up for this job, and is now determined not to give their leader any reason to believe he's not ready.

"Got her," comes Remus's voice from the radio beside James. "She's approaching from the north, Prongs, and . . . looks like she's alone. Won't need you on this one, Padfoot."

"Dammit."

Sirius's quiet reply makes James grin again. His mate is always hoping for "a proper fight," even though that would mean they hadn't done their jobs right.

James sweeps the sight of his rifle to the left, glancing up to scan the street with unaided eyes for the imminent approach of his target. His body is tensed with anticipation, all senses on high alert. A twitch of movement immediately draws his gaze, and he notes with some surprise that the figure approaching appears to be female. From the conversations he'd had with Kingsley and the others, he'd assumed it would be someone in Riddle's inner circle, and the only woman in that group had been locked up two years ago.

Pushing away this unexpected development, James refocuses his attention on tracking the woman's every move through his scope. She's wearing a long coat and tall boots with a knit hat pulled low over her forehead, from which James can see wavy brown tresses emerging. With a small click, he removes the safety on his rifle. Adjusting his grip, he lets out a long, slow breath so that he won't instinctively flinch when he pulls the trigger. As he touches his index finger to the smooth metal, the woman looks up slightly, her face coming into view for the first time.

Immediately, James recognizes her. It's his ex-wife, Lily.

Everything inside of him freezes. Time itself seems to slow down, something James thought only happened in movies for dramatic effect. His heartbeat pounds in his ears and his breath comes in shallow gasps as his mind tries to reconcile the impossible scene before him. He can hear voices shouting over the radio channel, but they sound as though they are coming from a great distance and James can't make sense of the words.