18. Incarcerous

People came sometimes. Not always, most of the time it was just the three of them in their cozy cottage in Godric's Hollow. Filling their perpetual days with repeated conversations and jokes, avoidance, constantly thinking up new ways to keep Harry occupied, having fun, and learning. There were days when James and Lily tried not to fight, biting their tongues. There were happy, joyful days, but there were also the bad days. Fights, tears, tantrums.

The worst time was just after visitors left. Minutes or hours spent in company, laughing, hearing and discussing new things, seeing someone other than each other. But when they left, there was a period of depression. The post-visit blues.

"Well, at least it's not Azkaban," James said.
"Yes. We're not in the Dementor's company. Just the effects of it."
James put his arm around his wife. How was he to cheer her up when he was feeling the exact same way?
"Home is the prison we make it," she cried.
"What else can we do? If it was just us two we would be out there fighting, but this isn't for us, it's for Harry."
Lily nodded. "For our Harry." So he could live.