The only person that Jamie had ever grieved for was Julia Darling. Julia was alive, and so close that he could feel her breath and smell her tears. She was not, in fact, gone from his life, but there had been a time when  they'd told him that she likely was, and his heart had broken with the longing for his friend. He'd had a few friendships growing up, but not very many, and none were all that close. It hadn't been a choice. He'd had to move from school to school, and he'd never been anywhere long enough to make the sort of lifelong best pal people often talked about having. When he finally settled down in a primary school he somehow became a target for ridicule, and it wasn't until he came to Hogwarts that he really relaxed enough to try to get close to people. Julia was really one of the closest friends he'd ever had. Apart from that period of time when he thought he'd lost her, he'd never had the experience of fiercely missing someone he loved. His missing was the shallow kind, the 'see you later' kind. All of the people he cared about outside of school were far away, but not gone. Nobody he loved was dead. He'd never felt what Julia was feeling – not really – but the near loss had been enough to teach him about how deep grief could really go, and it pushed him closer toward understanding, even if it wasn't quite the same. 

“You're not a baby,” he insisted  as he continued to hold her. “You're not crying now because you want milk or anything like that. That's why babies cry, isn't it? You're not needy or nothing. You're sad.” Although he wasn't as well acquainted with grief (or babies) as she was, he understood wanting to cry and feeling like you shouldn't. Jamie rarely gave in to the impulse when it struck. If his mum died, though? You'd better believe he'd cry. He didn't know that he'd ever stop. Some people were irreplaceable, and mothers were those sort of people. “I reckon it's hard not having her around. It's good to think about her, if you miss her and that. You're honoring her like that, and I'll bet she deserves it. So crying's not the worst thing.” There were many ways to be reverent. 

“What can I do for you, bird?” he asked her, his arms wrapped around her upper back. “I'll play something for her, if yous like.” It was really all he had to offer besides his two arms and the dinner he was sacrificing. Thoughts could get stuck in people's heads like melodies and, when sad, they could be haunting. Perhaps he could play her something sweeter. 


a simple rule that every good man knows by heart: its smarter to be lucky than its lucky to be smart