Maybe it was just one of those things. That Perry was feeling so tapped out there was nowhere to go but up, or the stress had made him giddy, or something. Whatever it was, when Lily held up the pie with that innocent smile, he cracked, and a laugh, soft and hoarse but a laugh all the same, broke out from deep inside him. Suddenly feeling the need to touch her, just because, he gently pushed the hands holding the pie tin away, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her, softly but intently.
Drawing back, he brushed his fingers over her cheek, watching her for a moment, scanning her face. It was odd: nothing had actually changed in the past few minutes. The weight on Perry's shoulders was as great as ever, the hollow tight feeling in his chest as gnawing, and there was still a great deal of pain in his eyes as he looked at her. And yet, he found that despite all that he could smile, and he did.
The truth was, he was incredibly lucky to have her. Even if the hiking trip had slightly backfired on them, the way she was still putting so much effort into just trying to make him feel better... In a lesser woman, he might have mocked it as a thin attempt to please, or turning oneself into a doormat, but he respected Lily far too much to see this as anything but the support and warmth that was being offered him. "Thank you," he said quietly, meaning it with all his guarded, broken heart. He kissed her again, then tipped her chin down to kiss her forehead softly.
Pulling away, he reached for his Firewhisky and drained down the rest of his glass in one neat swallow. He lay down, pillowing his head with his arms, and tried to make himelf relax again. He had been feeling so good for a while, there. What on earth had happened, anyway?
Returning his kisses, her own lips tugging up in response to his smile, Lily met his gaze steadily. She was startled to see a look in his eyes that she recognized. One that had been passed between the Order members every time they'd approached a house with the Dark Mark above it. One she remembered seeing in Dumbledore's face the day he'd asked her to join the movement against Voldemort. One she'd seen lurking in her own eyes when she realized the child she was carrying would be hunted and hated, that her precious son would have a horrible destiny hanging over his head. The look, that stomach-dropping look, she recalled from the night they'd decided to use Sirius as bait, to let Peter be their Secret Keeper. And one she saw over and over again in her nightmares when she and James knew who was outside their door.
Once again she felt the sharp agony of a helpless longing to do something to prevent him from having to endure this. And yet Lily knew, better than most, that this had no easy solution. That once he'd accepted this pain, it was his, and it wasn't going away. The shadow of it would haunt his eyes from now on, and all she could do was hold his hand. If she could, Lily would take it from him. All of it - the pain, the helpless fear, the sorrow, the guilt, the hopeless frantic need - she would willingly take on herself, to spare him this. But, of course, she couldn't. And imagining his reaction if he knew she was thinking this made her smile softly. So, she'd just sodding hold his hand, then. It wasn't much - wasn't anything, really - but if it was everything she could do, then it was what she would pour herself into. And the fact that he still could smile, in spite of all of it, made her think that, maybe, he'd find a way to live with the look and all that it meant. All that lurked behind it.
When he thanked her for her pale efforts, her breath caught slightly and she swallowed, hard, to again force back tears. 'You're welcome' seemed so inadequate, so out of place, so she simply put all of the emotion behind those words into her kiss and hoped that he understood. That of course she'd done what small things she could, and would continue to do them as long as he let her; that he didn't need to be alone if he didn't want to be; that she wasn't going anywhere; that she'd support him however she could. Hell of a lot to put into a kiss, but she tried. Words - usually her first resource - failed her and so the kiss would have to do.
Lying down on her stomach beside him, she closed her eyes and sighed. This was...not how this entire day was supposed to go. That thought made her laugh a little, and she couldn't stop the smile that crossed her face. So, hiking was good, picnics were all right, but talks of double dating were right out. "Once," she said, seemingly out of the blue, "my roommates and I decided to go skinny dipping in the lake. We snuck out one night, stripped off all of our clothes, and went streaking down to the water. The swimming bit went fairly well - with the help of some warming charms we'd put on before going out - but when we went back to find our clothes they were...well, someone - we never really found out who - decided to 'liberate' them. So there we were, five naked, sopping wet girls standing out on the great lawn." She glanced at him and grinned, "Go ahead and picture it, Ginger. It was quite a sight. So then - as none of us had thought to bring our wands - we had to somehow make our way back up to Gryffindor tower without being caught. I believe the theme of that evening was 'this seemed like a better idea when we all had our clothes on'." She glanced at him and shrugged. "Somehow that struck me as an appropriate anecdote."
Drawing back, he brushed his fingers over her cheek, watching her for a moment, scanning her face. It was odd: nothing had actually changed in the past few minutes. The weight on Perry's shoulders was as great as ever, the hollow tight feeling in his chest as gnawing, and there was still a great deal of pain in his eyes as he looked at her. And yet, he found that despite all that he could smile, and he did.
The truth was, he was incredibly lucky to have her. Even if the hiking trip had slightly backfired on them, the way she was still putting so much effort into just trying to make him feel better... In a lesser woman, he might have mocked it as a thin attempt to please, or turning oneself into a doormat, but he respected Lily far too much to see this as anything but the support and warmth that was being offered him. "Thank you," he said quietly, meaning it with all his guarded, broken heart. He kissed her again, then tipped her chin down to kiss her forehead softly.
Pulling away, he reached for his Firewhisky and drained down the rest of his glass in one neat swallow. He lay down, pillowing his head with his arms, and tried to make himelf relax again. He had been feeling so good for a while, there. What on earth had happened, anyway?
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Once again she felt the sharp agony of a helpless longing to do something to prevent him from having to endure this. And yet Lily knew, better than most, that this had no easy solution. That once he'd accepted this pain, it was his, and it wasn't going away. The shadow of it would haunt his eyes from now on, and all she could do was hold his hand. If she could, Lily would take it from him. All of it - the pain, the helpless fear, the sorrow, the guilt, the hopeless frantic need - she would willingly take on herself, to spare him this. But, of course, she couldn't. And imagining his reaction if he knew she was thinking this made her smile softly. So, she'd just sodding hold his hand, then. It wasn't much - wasn't anything, really - but if it was everything she could do, then it was what she would pour herself into. And the fact that he still could smile, in spite of all of it, made her think that, maybe, he'd find a way to live with the look and all that it meant. All that lurked behind it.
When he thanked her for her pale efforts, her breath caught slightly and she swallowed, hard, to again force back tears. 'You're welcome' seemed so inadequate, so out of place, so she simply put all of the emotion behind those words into her kiss and hoped that he understood. That of course she'd done what small things she could, and would continue to do them as long as he let her; that he didn't need to be alone if he didn't want to be; that she wasn't going anywhere; that she'd support him however she could. Hell of a lot to put into a kiss, but she tried. Words - usually her first resource - failed her and so the kiss would have to do.
Lying down on her stomach beside him, she closed her eyes and sighed. This was...not how this entire day was supposed to go. That thought made her laugh a little, and she couldn't stop the smile that crossed her face. So, hiking was good, picnics were all right, but talks of double dating were right out. "Once," she said, seemingly out of the blue, "my roommates and I decided to go skinny dipping in the lake. We snuck out one night, stripped off all of our clothes, and went streaking down to the water. The swimming bit went fairly well - with the help of some warming charms we'd put on before going out - but when we went back to find our clothes they were...well, someone - we never really found out who - decided to 'liberate' them. So there we were, five naked, sopping wet girls standing out on the great lawn." She glanced at him and grinned, "Go ahead and picture it, Ginger. It was quite a sight. So then - as none of us had thought to bring our wands - we had to somehow make our way back up to Gryffindor tower without being caught. I believe the theme of that evening was 'this seemed like a better idea when we all had our clothes on'." She glanced at him and shrugged. "Somehow that struck me as an appropriate anecdote."
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