Everything they'd worked for, all the laughter, the tears, the arguing, and everything in-between was leading up to the moment where they'd had Harry and built a family. Her little baby boy, the love of her life, and she'd dreamed about all the anniversaries that would come after his first birthday.

What kind of mother goes and dies on her son?

She doesn't care if they make a scene, doesn't notice the way the space around them grows a little quieter with each passing moment, because she's so in tune with James and her grief that nothing else matters. James, her beautiful James.

"I'm sorry." He'd thrown himself at Voldemort to protect her and Harry, and she hadn't gotten out in time. A hand smoothes up and down his back when she feels him tremble. "I'm so sorry."