It was Halloween.

There were a few leaves scuffling down the street, the sky was iron grey, the small Muggle family across the street was putting out their jack-o-lantern, and Lily was standing at the front door, looking out. It was Halloween, and she couldn't walk through town to look at the decorations, and she couldn't hand out candy, because no one was going to ring her doorbell. No one could see her doorbell.

She could hear someone crashing around upstairs, and then coming down. James, as usual, jumped the last step. "It's Halloween," she told him when he came in. She could feel the melancholy coming on—lately, it was never far away—and for once, she wanted to indulge herself.

He came up behind her and put his arms around her, pressing his lips to her temple. "Going to dress up?"

"Yeah," she said, "I think I might go as a witch." Lately, she was feeling more like a ghost.

He laughed. "Sounds good. Lil...there's something I have to tell you."

She twisted in his arms, looking up. His face was serious. "What?"

James leaned in to her, whispered in her ear: "Harry had a potty accident."

She let her forehead fall onto his chest and groaned.

Four o'clock; still time.

"I love corn," said Harry cheerfully, dipping his fingers in his bowl again.

"It's good to enjoy your food," said James philosophically, while Lily made a dive for the bowl. She managed to get it away from him, but at a high cost—corn mash in her hair.

"Food goes in your bowl, Harry," she said wearily, standing up to get a towel. There were yellow splatters all over the tray of his high chair, and the peas had dribbled on the floor.

"Also, sometimes it goes in your mouth," James suggested. "Try a more direct path from one to the other."

Harry wiped his fingers on the tray and then stuck them in his mouth.

"That's a start...I suppose."

"I love you, Dada."

"I love you too," said James, beaming. Lily came in with the wet towel in her hands, and in a well-practiced move, James lifted up the baby while Lily wiped off the seat.

"Is Sirius coming by tonight?" asked Lily as she rinsed the towel in the sink.

James frowned. "I think he was going by Peter's, not sure. It's been a while since we've seen him, hasn't it?"

"Well," said Lily with a sigh, "he's worried."

She dried her hands and sat back down.

There had been an incident, last week, when two Death Eaters had cornered Sirius in Glasgow. It was after that attack that he convinced the Potters to use Peter as their Secret-Keeper.

Harry inspected his sippy-cup, pouted at it, and turned it upside down.

"Your turn," said Lily, and James stood up to get the sponge.

Six o'clock; almost gone.

She was standing at the door again, watching the night pass by. Wet gusts of wind shook the trees, and the yew hedge in front of the house was shivering.

One Halloween, when she was seven, she and Petunia really had gone out as witches, with green face-paint and fake warts.

One Halloween, when she was seventeen, James had kissed her for the first time.

Lily turned and went into the sitting room. James was making puffs of colored smoke come out of his wand, and Harry, dressed in his blue flannel pyjamas (his favorite ones, the ones with the sheep), was giggling, trying to catch them in his small fists. She watched from the doorway, lips curved into a small smile.

"Did you lock the door?" said James, looking up. His glasses were crooked on his face; they usually were.

"Yeah, I did," said Lily. "Of course, you're supposed to leave the doors open..."

He looked at her, uncomprehending.

"All Hallow's Eve? You leave the doors open, to let the dead pass through." It wasn't something she could remember ever doing—just something she had read about, a long time ago.

"Oh," he said, smiling, "Right."

She bit her lip. "C'mon, it's almost eight, I'll take him up to bed."

James kissed the messy top of Harry's head and handed him over—Lily kissed him on the same spot, and carried him up.

It had been a long day of almost nothing, and James threw his wand down on the couch before stretching into an enormous yawn.

Eight o'clock; their time was out.

The door opened, and death came in.