James thinks that someday after they’ve grown old together they’ll laugh about this.
But then he curses himself and reminds himself of his promise. Because that’s what James has decided: if he thinks only of now, and never of tomorrow, tomorrow can’t hurt him. Out of sight, out of mind. James won’t think of tomorrow because that might remind him that there might not be a tomorrow.
Right now, though, there is only this moment. Lily and him sit on their invisible porch with their hidden son on their laps and snuggle on the swing. Her red hair - the red of glory, and of poppies - tickles his nose. Little Harry grabs at her hair and fumbles, punching him in the eye with his tiny meaty fist. It is soft and doesn’t sting, only tingles.
Lily murmurs something about tricks and treats and James trips over her words.
“What’s that?” he asks, all incredulous boy and wide-eyed wonder. Lily smiles at this, because since they have been hidden he has been all sombre man and set-faced determination. Lily smiles because James grew up all at once and still stumbles now and then.
“Trick-or-Treat,” Lily explains, and the baby on her lap gurgles and drifts. “A Muggle thing. Kids, they dress up in costumes and go door-to-door for candy.” She shakes her head. “I haven’t trick-or-treated in ages.”
It’s a long silence now, the sort of silence that seems to hold into yesterday and forever. James buries his head in her hair again and breathes in her smell (the scent of roses). Her face digs into his shoulder and James records this moment for tomorrow - after they’ve grown old together - but then kicks himself and forgets and focuses on the now. It’s too late, though, because the flickering thought has already occurred: that they won’t grow old at all. He gives the barest of shudders and burrows deeper into Lily.
Trick-or-treating sounds dangerous to James. You couldn’t know whether a trick or treat awaited you behind a door. Costumes hid true faces. James has worn a mask most of his life, always being strong for others and hiding his weaknesses. He doesn’t know if he could stand putting on another. Arms wrapped protectively around his wife and son, he breathes deeply and reminds himself why he grew old all at once.
Far down the street, in the neighbour’s yard, a jack-o'-lantern sparkles. For some unknown reason, jack-o'-lanterns have always frightened James. It wasn’t something in their visage, not their leering grins or cold eyes, but they way that they burned only for a while and were discarded like trash. The way that they were celebrated without a tomorrow.
He clutches tighter to Lily. A breeze ruffles the trees and her hair and the jack-o'-lantern light and he holds even tighter, like he’s afraid they’ll blow away. James must clasp tightly to things but then let them go. Not his family, though. ‘His family,’ the words burn on his tongue and taste of commitment and love.
James’ feet push the ground and start them swinging slowly on the bench. It gets things moving now, keeps interest in the moment. He must live all at once because for him, there is no conceivable tomorrow that he will allow himself to think of. Life flickers like jack-o’ “lanterns: dappled light and smooth, quick celebration today and then the rubbish bin tomorrow.
Leaves scatter the ground. He knows that Lily would love to go and kick in them - it’s a childlike pleasure she’s admitted she still holds, but she also thinks that she is a mother now and it is her child’s job to kick in leave piles. After today, of course. He is sleeping now.
James satisfies himself with the thought that she is safe today so that tomorrow may be another now. Then, maybe, Lily could kick in the leaves.
His fingers pull slowly through her hair as they swing in a rhythmic motion. Harry is fast asleep on Lily’s lap between them. This is what their life has become, James thinks. A quiet survey of today and a hiding from tomorrow.
James doesn’t like that. His wife deserves more, his son deserves more, he deserves more.
“Maybe we could go Trick-or-Treating, Lily,” he mumbles, tilting her head up. She sighs.
“Oh, James, I wish we could. I wish we could take our beautiful baby, dress him up, and take him around for sweets.” She ruffles Harry’s small tuft of hair. “I wish we could go out.”
Silence falls around them once more like a heavy blanket (the sort you can’t push off and don’t necessarily want to).
James breaks it. “Then why don’t we?” There is a strained, hopeful recklessness in his voice. He knows that they can’t, but he has to hope and ask. James realises that if he refuses to think of the future that there is no point in today.
“You know we can’t, James. It’s not safe for us, or for Harry,” she says softly. Again, she brushes her baby’s hair with her hands and traces a finger down his soft, unblemished forehead. “It’s too bad, though. I’d love to see you in a costume.”
James chuckles, and she giggles for once. He had almost forgotten how nice it was to laugh. In one swift motion, all notions of holding to now and hiding from tomorrow are abandoned and they are just a small family on their porch on a fall evening. But only for a moment.
“We could...” James starts, but then trails off. He’s not used to thinking of future plans. He’s out of practise - but the skill returns quickly. “We could put little bowls of candy around the house, then lead him to each one! It’d be almost as good as the real thing!”
Lily grins. “Yeah! We could!” She pecks him on the lips, and it’s the happiest he’s been in a long time. “After he’s eaten his dinner, of course.” He rolls his eyes.
She rests her head on his shoulder. The jack-o’-lantern light reflects in her hair and dances in his eyes.
“It’ll be marvellous.”
He’s sitting on the couch now, playing with Harry. Earlier, him and Lily had sat small bowls of sweets around the house in low places to take Harry to. It would be their own Halloween celebration. Not perfect, but good enough for now.
Lily is finishing rinsing the dishes. It’s been a long day, and they’ve had their healthy dinner. James blows coloured puffs of smoke into his son’s face from his wand, and baby Harry laughs, innocent and joyful and unaware. With his wife coming to him from the kitchen and his son on his lap, James knows what love is. He wants it tomorrow; he promises that there will be a tomorrow for all of them. The hallowed solemnity of this vow brings a smile to his face.
He forgets that maybe, maybe this is a promise he cannot keep. James forgets that maybe there might not be a tomorrow.
“Alright, honey, we can do it now. Dishes are done,” Lily calls from the other room, setting down one last plate with a clink.
“Okay!” he replies, tickling Harry under the chin and shooting one last jet of blue-and-green smoke. He lifts his son up, twirls him, and sets him down soundly on the carpet.
There is a bang at the door. Suddenly, there is no tomorrow to forget. There is only now.
In the hallway, the last thing he sees through the open doorway is the orange-fire light of a grinning jack-o'-lantern. He yells something, but it is lost in the moment.
The orange fades to green.
Author's Notes: Y'know, sometimes I just put notes down here because I like the way the look. But, this time, I have something to say.
That last line up there caused me a lot of trouble. I kept debating whether or not I liked it. I thought about putting 'There is a bang at the door, and tomorrow never comes.', but then I changed my mind. I don't know why; something about it just resonates with me.
Thanks for reading!