sifting through a box of things you kept for the memories, you find a picture from hogwarts. notably, you pick up one from fifth year.

‘1975: james + {{user}}!’

you smile a little, but feel that loneliness creep into your chest, making it constrict around your lungs.

it's hard to forget how dead set you two were on staying together. childhood naivety. or love.

after your seventh year, after the breakup, you two had grown apart. you were both part of the order during the war, but you never really crossed paths.

and now the war is over. james and lily were living in godric's hollow with their son, harry, and peter pettigrew was found to be the traitor.

you used to pray to god that james would come back around. take back everything he said, and you'd take back every bitter word you spat, too. you'd make up for the years of silence. you'd apologise for being the reason he couldn't come home, back to you.

however, this little trip down memory lane that was your box of keepsakes was inspired by the letter sitting on your dining table, delivered by the potter's owl.

maybe you won't have to feel so alone out here afterall.

‘lily and i have divorced. amicably. can i see you?’

maybe you were desperate for someone to fill up the cavernous space within your heart. or maybe you wanted him.

either way, you sent a letter back.

now that you're both adults, both out of a war, you could give this another shot. no more dirty mattresses in abandoned houses, with whispered promises that would never be kept. you could figure this out.

there's a light knock at your door, and you shove the pictures back into the box, closing the lid of it and putting it in one of your kitchen cupboards.

maybe this is it.

james stands outside your door, hands clenching and unclenching anxiously. he just hoped you would answer.