Prompt 26 of @magic-girl-in-a-muggle-world's @jilytoberfest prompts
Rated T for adult themes; TW: alluding to parental death; grief
“Just leave. Please.”
So she did. But only to grab some food. A change of clothes. An extra blanket. The stuffie on his bed.
Lily returned to the Heads office fully supplied and with a helping hand to find James unmoved from his position on the couch, face buried in his hands, glasses discarded.
“Come on, Prongs,” Sirius coaxed he assisted James out of his school robes, replacing them with a freshly laundered pair of pajamas.
“Drink this,” Lily placed a straw to his lips, knowing he was not stomaching much at the moment aside from water, “There you go,” she murmured gently, turning to cast a cushioning charm on the rug in front of the fireplace.
“I don’t want you-”
“We’re not leaving you,” Lily’s tone was soft, her conviction firm. Sirius helps usher James in between him and the headgirl on, a makeshift bed already prepared by Lily who ensures they are all properly tucked in.
Because there is nothing you can say, when the person you love most loses the two he loves most. So they stayed and simply held James, unable to stop the bleeding as a fresh slice of anguish cut his heart up into pieces. And shared in his grief to prevent the burden of having to suffer alone.
Quote from David Kessler:
"Each person’s grief is as unique as their fingerprint. But what everyone has in common is that no matter how they grieve, they share a need for their grief to be witnessed. That doesn’t mean needing someone to try to lessen it or reframe it for them. The need is for someone to be fully present to the magnitude of their loss without trying to point out the silver lining."
