a foul place is where i love you

Six

The mist paused, leaving the room in a shocked silence as everyone seemed to contemplate Harry's words. James felt Lily's grip on his hand tighten, and he glanced over at her to see her pale face, her green eyes that looked so exhausted. He knew she felt the same way he did, seeing their son like this. Would it ever end? This endless cycle of having Harry, losing him, and then getting him back only to be hurt again?

After a few moments, Sirius cursed softly beside him, drawing everyone's attention. "What is wrong with him?" he asked, seeming unnerved.

"I don't know," James said hoarsely, his voice not feeling entirely like his own, "but he was saying similar things to us when we were in there."

"Perhaps he's just ... lost it," offered Amelia Jackson. "He hasn't been seen or heard from in a year after a disaster that everyone believed had killed him. He could have easily gone mad from it all. He was already on the brink of it last year."

"Perhaps," considered Remus, examining Harry carefully. "While he was definitely twisted around last year, he wasn't like this. To Harry, everything seems to be a game that he gets to control as he pleases, yes, but he prefers to do it through strategic trickery—much like You-Know-Who—and not through desperate acting. Before, he would have never stomached pretending to have any sort of care for James and Lily, nor any hatred for his master." He shot James and Lily an apologetic look at this, which James pretended to ignore. "Whatever he's trying to say, it seems to me that he actually believes it."

It was Colbert who intervened this time. "Well, whatever he's playing at, it's definitely not true," he gritted out. "If You-Know-Who was dead, we'd know by now. We shouldn't believe a single thing that comes out of Potter's mouth. He could be trying to throw us off to save his own hide."

Dumbledore, who had been watching and listening to them in calculative silence, cut in, "Your argument, Isaac, is not invalid. And I do not expect any less of you to be distrusting of Harry." The whole room seemed to wait with bated breath as they waited for Dumbledore to continue. "I must agree with Remus. This Harry and the Harry we met a year ago are not one and the same. Until we can understand all that has happened to him this past year, we cannot simply accuse him and put the situation to rest. Not yet. We need more time to find out the whole story, lest we fall into Voldemort's trap."

The atmosphere grew cold at the name, but, once recovered, Robards sighed heavily. "I understand your reasoning, Albus, but the Minister won't have it. And neither will the public. The law is the law, and Potter has committed some serious crimes. They will want to administer the Kiss by the end of the week."

Suddenly, every bone and muscle in James's body went numb, and the room seemed to do a 360. The Kiss. The Dementor's Kiss.

Lily choked out a sob beside him.

He should've known—some deep, dark part of him had known. But he hadn't let himself prepare for it, consider it.

The Dementor's Kiss.

The ultimate death.

As much as James knew Harry would need to be punished, had only hoped that he would get put out of his misery, that it would all just end, he hadn't ever imagined the Kiss as that punishment as much as he should've. He had always had the quiet hope that if Harry couldn't find peace here, he could find it elsewhere. Even if he died in a cell in Azkaban. But with the Kiss ... there was no chance of that. Harry's soul would cease to exist.

James barely felt Sirius's hand on his shoulder, barely noticed how all eyes seemed to fix on him and Lily.

James heard Lily take in a shaky breath beside him, then watched as she stumbled up from her chair. "I'm ... I need a moment."

Without waiting for an answer, she began to make her way to the door, and James immediately stumbled from his chair to follow her.

Now alone in the dark, torch-lit corridor of the prison, James immediately enveloped Lily in his arms, his vision blurring as she sobbed heavily into his shoulder.

James gently rested his head on top of hers, brushing her beautiful red hair with his fingers. They were both trembling as they held each other. "M-My baby," she weeped quietly, "my baby."

It was James's turn to sob.

"What did they do to him?" she continued.

They destroyed him.

James held her tighter.

He wasn't sure how long it had been before they'd finally calmed down, yet still held onto each other, not quite ready to face the pain the world still had to offer. Eventually, the conference room door opened, and Sirius alone emerged, his face solemn.

"What is it?" asked James.

"Dumbledore wants to question Harry himself."

————

And done. Your weekly dose of angst.

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