fic for pasi: Black and White (James, Lily, PG)
Title: Black and White
Recipient: pasi
Character(s): James, Lily
Warnings: None.
Author's Notes: None.
--
The autumn sun was turning the sky from pink to gold when James Potter threw open the bedroom window and shrugged on a dressing gown. The soft rattle of his wife's snores came from the bed and he turned to watch her as she slept, the duvet rising and falling with each breath. He grinned, and went downstairs to fetch Monday's milk. A magpie chattered at him from the elm as he opened the front door and bent down for the bottle.
Lying next to the milk bottle was a dead sparrow.
James gave the magpie an accusing look. It lifted its wings and flapped onto the garden fence in an ungainly flapping hop. He took the milk inside and came back with the Sunday Prophet. He shoved the paper under the dead bird and dumped the tiny corpse in the dustbin.
--
'Remus says they'll be over some time around ten next Sunday.' Lily smiled at him over her cornflakes. 'He says they went Christmas shopping yesterday.'
'In October?'
'It's nearly Hallowe'en.' Lily shrugged. 'He said Flourish and Blotts were clearing out old stock.'
'That'll be a book for Christmas again, then.' Something butted him on the side of the head. James turned. A rusk was floating in mid-air. 'He's doing it again. Ugh.' He brushed crumbs from his hair.
Lily gave him an innocent look. 'He gets it from your side of the family. I can't imagine my sister behaving like that.'
The idea of Petunia bombarding him with rusks was so absurd that James laughed in spite of himself. He caught the rusk with an adroit hand and bent down to peer at Harry, who was watching the conversation from his high chair. 'You want this?' He moved the rusk to and fro, teasing the baby with it as Harry grabbed at the air with chubby fists.
He did not mention the sparrow.
--
On Tuesday morning another sparrow lay beside the milk, along with a rolled up copy of the Daily Express. James glanced around. The magpie was watching him from the elm again. He fished out his wand and tapped the Express. Finding no curses, he shook it out, extracted the centre sheets and put the wrapped body in the dustbin with its brother.
He passed the Express to Lily, who leafed through it as she ate breakfast. James helped himself to toast and marmalade and watched the expressions flit across her face as she absorbed the news. There were no Muggle connections in his family and events in their world did not interest him, but Lily had always liked to keep up to date. It gave her something to talk about with Vernon and Petunia, she said, and James did not bother to remind her that she was barely on speaking terms with her sister. The paper had the added advantage of making them look 'normal' in a Muggle village, and neither James nor Lily underestimated the advantages of not standing out.
Lily pushed the paper away violently. 'Stupid thing. It only ever gives half the story.'
'I can go down and get the other one,' James offered. 'The Hours.'
'The Times.'
'Same thing.'
She shook her head. 'I might wander down later. We're nearly out of coffee, and I could do with the walk.' She stood up, stretching. 'I'll take Harry down after lunch.'
--
On Wednesday James was greeted by the body of a mouse. As he bent to dispose of it, with the sheet of newspaper he had thoughtfully brought with him, Lily spoke behind him. 'Not another one.'
James stood up, very slowly, the mouse dangling from his hand. 'Another one?'
'I threw some away last week, when you were down in London. Mostly mice, but there was a yellowhammer, too. Pretty little thing.' She sighed. 'I suppose a cat must have adopted us, but I never see it.'
'I thought it might be the magpie.' James pointed with the mouse. The magpie scolded him from its perch on the fence.
'Could be.' Lily sounded doubtful. 'I think they do eat small birds.'
In that case, James thought, why doesn't it eat these? He did not say it.
After a moment, Lily added. 'I’ll put some milk out, just in case it is a cat.'
--
On Thursday there was no tiny body on the doorstep. The saucer of milk was untouched.
'Maybe it's shy,' James suggested as he clattered around the kitchen, putting dishes in cupboards and flicking his wand at the mop. 'Don't know if I'd take milk from strangers.'
'So why is it leaving us birds and mice?'
'Dunno.' He ducked as the mop swished past his head. 'Oops.'
'I'm not sure I like it.' Lily frowned. 'Could it be a warning of some kind, do you think?'
'Bloody odd warning.'
'I know.' She pointed her wand at the washing machine, only half paying attention as a stream of tiny outfits flew out and folded themselves into a neat pile on the table. 'I know it's stupid, but I - I really don't like it, James. I'm starting to feel like someone's watching us. If it was just us -'
'I know,' James said. 'But if it was just us, none of this would be happening, would it?' He crossed the room and put his arms around her. 'This was never about us.'
--
'It's a Memory Mat,' the salesman told him with pride. 'The very latest thing. Straight from Salem.'
'How does it work?'
'Trade secret, Mr. Potter.' The salesman beamed. 'If I told you that, you might want to go off and make one of your own! But rest assured you'll never miss a visitor again. Just whisper the charm as soon as you get home. The Memory Mat will show you who called, and you can return the favour.' He gave a conspiratorial smile. 'If you want to. The Memory Mat puts control in your hands.'
'I'll take it,' James said.
--
On Friday he collected a blue-tit with the morning milk. The bird went into the dustbin and the milk into the fridge. It was becoming part of the daily routine. The magpie scolded him from the fence as he took the Memory Mat inside and dropped it on the kitchen floor. James knelt and whispered to it. A small boy shimmered into view, laying the dead bird reverently on the doorstep. His face was stained with tears.
'I know him!' Lily said in surprise. 'That's the milkman's son.'
'Which way do they go?' James pulled on his raincoat. 'I might be able to catch them.'
'Lark Lane, I think, then Far Meadow Walk. Up by the new row of terraces.' Lily scooped up Harry. 'You get going, I'll put the coffee on!'
A hasty Apparition took him to the holly bushes at the end of Far Meadow Lane. Rain dripped down his cheeks and splashed off his coat collar as he hurried down the road and listened for the electric hum of the milk float. James gritted his teeth. A quick Impervius would work wonders, but it wouldn’t take a Muggle long to wonder how he could be standing in the rain without getting wet.
As he rounded a corner, he saw the milk float parked about a hundred yards ahead of him. James quickened his pace. There was no sign of the milkman; glancing around, James saw a heavily-built man in a white coat disappearing around the corner with a crate of pint bottles. If he was lucky -
He was. The milk float contained a small boy, curled gloomily up in the passenger seat and fiddling with some sort of handheld machine that flashed coloured lights and made outlandish noises. Harry would love that, James thought. He tapped on the windscreen. The boy looked up and paled, then stuffed the machine in the pocket of his trousers.
'What's going on?' James asked, as gently as he could. It seemed impossible that this child was an agent of the Death Eaters.
'I didn't mean nothing.'
Silently cursing the rain, James squatted beside the milk float. 'I know you didn't.'
The boy's lower lip trembled. 'I thought you could fix 'em.'
'Fix them?'
The milkman's son nodded. 'It's my cat,' he sniffed. 'Flossie. She don't mean to, but she kills 'em. Only playing. I thought you could make 'em better.' He looked hopefully at James.
James took a deep breath, and tried to keep the smile on his face. The boy was watching him closely. He shook his head. 'It's not that simple.' He watched the hope fade from the boy's face and hated himself. 'I wish it was. Once something's - dead - it's gone for good. You can't bring it back. I'm sorry.'
'Why not? What's the point if you can't make things better?'
'I'm sorry,' James said again. Then, because he needed to know, 'Why us?'
The boy frowned. He chewed his lip, as if choosing his words carefully. 'I seen you,' he said at last. 'You didn't see me, but I seen you. When you put that washin' out. You had a big basket but you wasn't carryin' it. You just waved at it and all them clothes just danced on to the line, like in Fantasia.' He gave James a wistful look. 'It was magic, wasn't it?'
James nodded. There wasn't much he could say.
'Will you teach me?'
'How old are you?'
'Eight. Well, nearly.'
'If it's in you,' James said, with all the conviction he could muster, 'you'll learn. Nobody can teach it. But I can cast a spell on you, if you like.'
Delight leapt into the boy's eyes. 'Wow! Really?'
'Really.'
'And it won't hurt? Promise?'
'I promise.' James pulled out his wand.
The boy stared greedily at it. 'I knew you couldn't fix 'em, not really,' he murmured. 'But I thought, just maybe -'
'Close your eyes.' The boy obeyed. 'Obliviate', James whispered. Then he Apparated away.
--
Lily opened her mouth to speak as he walked in, met his eyes and said nothing. He shed his raincoat, cast a quick drying charm and bent to pick up his son, hugging him tight. Over coffee, he told Lily what had happened.
'What's the point, if you can't make things better?' he said. 'He asked me that, and I didn't know, I didn't have an answer for him.' Harry gurgled on his lap, and James bent his head, touching the top of Harry's hair with his forehead. 'How do I protect you?,' he mumbled into the baby's hair. He raised his head. 'What do we say when he starts asking why things die? What do we tell him?'
Lily reached out to squeeze his hand. 'Let's cross that bridge when we come to it,' she suggested. Her face was grave. 'We had an owl while you were out, from Dumbledore. He says he's got news. He's coming round tonight.'
Recipient: pasi
Character(s): James, Lily
Warnings: None.
Author's Notes: None.
--
The autumn sun was turning the sky from pink to gold when James Potter threw open the bedroom window and shrugged on a dressing gown. The soft rattle of his wife's snores came from the bed and he turned to watch her as she slept, the duvet rising and falling with each breath. He grinned, and went downstairs to fetch Monday's milk. A magpie chattered at him from the elm as he opened the front door and bent down for the bottle.
Lying next to the milk bottle was a dead sparrow.
James gave the magpie an accusing look. It lifted its wings and flapped onto the garden fence in an ungainly flapping hop. He took the milk inside and came back with the Sunday Prophet. He shoved the paper under the dead bird and dumped the tiny corpse in the dustbin.
--
'Remus says they'll be over some time around ten next Sunday.' Lily smiled at him over her cornflakes. 'He says they went Christmas shopping yesterday.'
'In October?'
'It's nearly Hallowe'en.' Lily shrugged. 'He said Flourish and Blotts were clearing out old stock.'
'That'll be a book for Christmas again, then.' Something butted him on the side of the head. James turned. A rusk was floating in mid-air. 'He's doing it again. Ugh.' He brushed crumbs from his hair.
Lily gave him an innocent look. 'He gets it from your side of the family. I can't imagine my sister behaving like that.'
The idea of Petunia bombarding him with rusks was so absurd that James laughed in spite of himself. He caught the rusk with an adroit hand and bent down to peer at Harry, who was watching the conversation from his high chair. 'You want this?' He moved the rusk to and fro, teasing the baby with it as Harry grabbed at the air with chubby fists.
He did not mention the sparrow.
--
On Tuesday morning another sparrow lay beside the milk, along with a rolled up copy of the Daily Express. James glanced around. The magpie was watching him from the elm again. He fished out his wand and tapped the Express. Finding no curses, he shook it out, extracted the centre sheets and put the wrapped body in the dustbin with its brother.
He passed the Express to Lily, who leafed through it as she ate breakfast. James helped himself to toast and marmalade and watched the expressions flit across her face as she absorbed the news. There were no Muggle connections in his family and events in their world did not interest him, but Lily had always liked to keep up to date. It gave her something to talk about with Vernon and Petunia, she said, and James did not bother to remind her that she was barely on speaking terms with her sister. The paper had the added advantage of making them look 'normal' in a Muggle village, and neither James nor Lily underestimated the advantages of not standing out.
Lily pushed the paper away violently. 'Stupid thing. It only ever gives half the story.'
'I can go down and get the other one,' James offered. 'The Hours.'
'The Times.'
'Same thing.'
She shook her head. 'I might wander down later. We're nearly out of coffee, and I could do with the walk.' She stood up, stretching. 'I'll take Harry down after lunch.'
--
On Wednesday James was greeted by the body of a mouse. As he bent to dispose of it, with the sheet of newspaper he had thoughtfully brought with him, Lily spoke behind him. 'Not another one.'
James stood up, very slowly, the mouse dangling from his hand. 'Another one?'
'I threw some away last week, when you were down in London. Mostly mice, but there was a yellowhammer, too. Pretty little thing.' She sighed. 'I suppose a cat must have adopted us, but I never see it.'
'I thought it might be the magpie.' James pointed with the mouse. The magpie scolded him from its perch on the fence.
'Could be.' Lily sounded doubtful. 'I think they do eat small birds.'
In that case, James thought, why doesn't it eat these? He did not say it.
After a moment, Lily added. 'I’ll put some milk out, just in case it is a cat.'
--
On Thursday there was no tiny body on the doorstep. The saucer of milk was untouched.
'Maybe it's shy,' James suggested as he clattered around the kitchen, putting dishes in cupboards and flicking his wand at the mop. 'Don't know if I'd take milk from strangers.'
'So why is it leaving us birds and mice?'
'Dunno.' He ducked as the mop swished past his head. 'Oops.'
'I'm not sure I like it.' Lily frowned. 'Could it be a warning of some kind, do you think?'
'Bloody odd warning.'
'I know.' She pointed her wand at the washing machine, only half paying attention as a stream of tiny outfits flew out and folded themselves into a neat pile on the table. 'I know it's stupid, but I - I really don't like it, James. I'm starting to feel like someone's watching us. If it was just us -'
'I know,' James said. 'But if it was just us, none of this would be happening, would it?' He crossed the room and put his arms around her. 'This was never about us.'
--
'It's a Memory Mat,' the salesman told him with pride. 'The very latest thing. Straight from Salem.'
'How does it work?'
'Trade secret, Mr. Potter.' The salesman beamed. 'If I told you that, you might want to go off and make one of your own! But rest assured you'll never miss a visitor again. Just whisper the charm as soon as you get home. The Memory Mat will show you who called, and you can return the favour.' He gave a conspiratorial smile. 'If you want to. The Memory Mat puts control in your hands.'
'I'll take it,' James said.
--
On Friday he collected a blue-tit with the morning milk. The bird went into the dustbin and the milk into the fridge. It was becoming part of the daily routine. The magpie scolded him from the fence as he took the Memory Mat inside and dropped it on the kitchen floor. James knelt and whispered to it. A small boy shimmered into view, laying the dead bird reverently on the doorstep. His face was stained with tears.
'I know him!' Lily said in surprise. 'That's the milkman's son.'
'Which way do they go?' James pulled on his raincoat. 'I might be able to catch them.'
'Lark Lane, I think, then Far Meadow Walk. Up by the new row of terraces.' Lily scooped up Harry. 'You get going, I'll put the coffee on!'
A hasty Apparition took him to the holly bushes at the end of Far Meadow Lane. Rain dripped down his cheeks and splashed off his coat collar as he hurried down the road and listened for the electric hum of the milk float. James gritted his teeth. A quick Impervius would work wonders, but it wouldn’t take a Muggle long to wonder how he could be standing in the rain without getting wet.
As he rounded a corner, he saw the milk float parked about a hundred yards ahead of him. James quickened his pace. There was no sign of the milkman; glancing around, James saw a heavily-built man in a white coat disappearing around the corner with a crate of pint bottles. If he was lucky -
He was. The milk float contained a small boy, curled gloomily up in the passenger seat and fiddling with some sort of handheld machine that flashed coloured lights and made outlandish noises. Harry would love that, James thought. He tapped on the windscreen. The boy looked up and paled, then stuffed the machine in the pocket of his trousers.
'What's going on?' James asked, as gently as he could. It seemed impossible that this child was an agent of the Death Eaters.
'I didn't mean nothing.'
Silently cursing the rain, James squatted beside the milk float. 'I know you didn't.'
The boy's lower lip trembled. 'I thought you could fix 'em.'
'Fix them?'
The milkman's son nodded. 'It's my cat,' he sniffed. 'Flossie. She don't mean to, but she kills 'em. Only playing. I thought you could make 'em better.' He looked hopefully at James.
James took a deep breath, and tried to keep the smile on his face. The boy was watching him closely. He shook his head. 'It's not that simple.' He watched the hope fade from the boy's face and hated himself. 'I wish it was. Once something's - dead - it's gone for good. You can't bring it back. I'm sorry.'
'Why not? What's the point if you can't make things better?'
'I'm sorry,' James said again. Then, because he needed to know, 'Why us?'
The boy frowned. He chewed his lip, as if choosing his words carefully. 'I seen you,' he said at last. 'You didn't see me, but I seen you. When you put that washin' out. You had a big basket but you wasn't carryin' it. You just waved at it and all them clothes just danced on to the line, like in Fantasia.' He gave James a wistful look. 'It was magic, wasn't it?'
James nodded. There wasn't much he could say.
'Will you teach me?'
'How old are you?'
'Eight. Well, nearly.'
'If it's in you,' James said, with all the conviction he could muster, 'you'll learn. Nobody can teach it. But I can cast a spell on you, if you like.'
Delight leapt into the boy's eyes. 'Wow! Really?'
'Really.'
'And it won't hurt? Promise?'
'I promise.' James pulled out his wand.
The boy stared greedily at it. 'I knew you couldn't fix 'em, not really,' he murmured. 'But I thought, just maybe -'
'Close your eyes.' The boy obeyed. 'Obliviate', James whispered. Then he Apparated away.
--
Lily opened her mouth to speak as he walked in, met his eyes and said nothing. He shed his raincoat, cast a quick drying charm and bent to pick up his son, hugging him tight. Over coffee, he told Lily what had happened.
'What's the point, if you can't make things better?' he said. 'He asked me that, and I didn't know, I didn't have an answer for him.' Harry gurgled on his lap, and James bent his head, touching the top of Harry's hair with his forehead. 'How do I protect you?,' he mumbled into the baby's hair. He raised his head. 'What do we say when he starts asking why things die? What do we tell him?'
Lily reached out to squeeze his hand. 'Let's cross that bridge when we come to it,' she suggested. Her face was grave. 'We had an owl while you were out, from Dumbledore. He says he's got news. He's coming round tonight.'