Disclaimer: Anything you recognise is property of JK Rowling.

Repercussions

Jets of light. Powerful gusts of magic. Muffled exclamations of pain. Harsh voices grating out curses. And one prolonged yell that cuts through it all.

Blood trickles onto porcelain. It's everywhere: in her hair, slowly dripping down her face; on her clothes, sinking further into the fabric; coating her knuckles and spreading.

She douses the small piece of linen with more Dittany and presses it firmly onto the cut on her hairline.

'Shit,' she hisses.

'Let me.'

She jumps even though his voice is low and steady.

He moves to take the linen from her but her hand doesn't release it to him.

'Lily,' he murmurs. 'Let me.'

She loosens her grip. 'Sorry.'

He shakes his head but doesn't catch her eye. His hands are firm and gentle, but they cannot take the sting away.

'James,' she whispers. Her mouth is so close to his wrist and all she wants to do is find his pulse point and kiss and kiss and kiss-

One prolonged yell cuts through it all.

'Don't!' Moody's voice rises above the mayhem of battle, but she's already taken her eyes off her opponent. A severing charm glances off her shoulder and she retaliates without thinking, sending a full body bind hex towards the cloaked figure opposite her with such fury that she feels momentarily drained.

Until the yell breaks into half a sob.

'James.'

She takes off at a run, throwing herself heedlessly into surrounding duels.

'No, Lily. Lily!'

Sirius is furious. He mustn't have heard James.

Feet pound the concrete relentlessly, he screams relentlessly. Arms circle her waist and yank her backwards.

'Get off me!' she cries. 'Get off!'

'Get your head in the game, Evans,' someone hisses into her ear.

She frees an arm, forces her elbow ruthlessly into her captor's face.

'Evans!'

She can't feel bad, even when his voice indicates a broken nose. Because James has come into view now. And he's on the floor, and he's yelling. And there's a cloaked figure stood over him, wand raised, vindictive smile in place, and unforgiveable things coming out of his mouth.

And her wand is raised. And her arm is shaking violently. And her mouth is opening.

And nothing is coming out.

'Your hair should cover the scar.'

James stoppers the bottle of Dittany and puts it back in the drawer of healing potions.

He turns back to her and sighs. His fingers brush her hair back tenderly and he kisses the still stinging wound. Her eyes close, her forehead rests against his chin and he stays there, breathing in the scent of her.

Too soon, the moment is over and he's moving away from her. Her hand catches his wrist and he halts. He doesn't turn.

'James, please. I'm sorry.'

'An apology isn't good enough in situations like this, Lily. You know that.'

'But I haven't got anything else to say.'

He sighs again and she wishes he wouldn't. He pulls his wrist free and takes her hand instead.

'Let's just... let's eat, yeah?'

Nothing is coming out. Her vision is blurred and her arm is shaking and she can't say anything.

Frantic footsteps approach. 'Fuck's sake.'

Her knees tremble. An impatient arm pushes her own inept arm out of the way. Sirius says the curses she can't. Sirius blasts the Death Eater backwards when she can't. Sirius saves James. Sirius casts a Shield over her and James. Sirius maintains the Shield as he turns his attention to the approaching combatants.

And James is the one offering comfort.

He comes out of the kitchen adjusting his cloak.

'Where...' she hates her voice for trembling. She clears her throat and tries again. 'Where are you going?'

'Sirius needs company.'

'Oh.'

They both decide to ignore the fact that he hasn't actually answered her question.

'When will you be back?' She pushes her hair out of her face, daring him to look at her.

He focuses on her left shoulder. 'I shouldn't be longer than a couple of hours.'

'Right.'

He comes over to her then, leans down to catch her lips briefly.

'We need to talk, James.'

'And we will.'

'And what the hell was that, Evans?' Moody barks across the room to her. She flinches into the side of James, and his grip on her waist tightens.

'I know. I panicked.'

'There's no room for panic in a battle.'

She blushes and drops her gaze. James' thumb strokes her side.

'Look, Moody, she cocked up-'

'Cocked up?' The incredulity of Frank Longbottom's voice is hindered by his still bleeding, still broken nose. 'Falling over her own feet is a cock up. What happened out there was fucking atrocious, Potter, and you know it.'

'Yes, I know it was.'

And his admission adds another dull throb of pain to her wounds.

Frank gets to his feet. His hands drop to the table in front of him and he leans forward to spit out his anger.

'This isn't fucking Hogwarts, now, Evans. Potter isn't hurling hexes at some nasty little Slytherin who called you a name. You're not the only Muggleborn he's fighting for anymore. You didn't see him charging over when you were hit by that stinging hex. There's more at stake than your stupid romance. If he can keep his head in a fight, why the fuck can't you?'

James has risen to his feet now, a hand on her shoulder and another hand reaching out as though to pacify Frank.

'She knows that, Longbottom. You can't pretend you don't panic when you see Alice being set upon by Death Eaters.'

'I don't fucking throw myself across a battlefield, putting countless lives at risk though,' he shouts back.

'I'm sorry,' she whispers uselessly. James squeezes her shoulder.

'Oh, tell it to Sirius,' Frank replies scornfully.

'Now just hang on-'

'Alright. That's enough. Longbottom, sit down and cool off.'

Frank drops back into his chair, still eying her resentfully. James waits until Frank catches his eye before regaining his seat next to her. His hand moves to hold hers.

Moody takes the floor, rubbing his forehead wearily.

'Regardless of our individual understandings of the term, Evans: you cocked up. And until I can trust you to respect the lives of our colleagues, you're not fighting when Potter is. You were reckless, and we don't have time to correct your mistakes.'

When she nods, he continues.

'We'll debrief tomorrow. I think we all need to take some time for ourselves. We'll meet at 9 o'clock sharp.'

The room empties rapidly. James is guiding her to the door.

'James, thank-'

'Don't, Lily.'

He doesn't say anything until they're back at home.

'What were you thinking?'

'I don't know.'

'Moody's right. You can't fight with me.'

She sits in the increasing darkness, waiting for him. The scene replays mercilessly in her head and there is no escape. She cocked up, and they both know it.

The sun has long set when she hears his voice murmuring the various enchantments that protect their home. Suddenly desperate to present a strong front to him, she lights the room and scrapes her hair into a ponytail.

The door opens and he smiles tiredly at her. He slumps into the sofa and tugs her into his arms, his head resting lightly on hers.

'How's-'

'He's not mad.'

She feels his words rumble through her back.

'Says he understands exactly what happened. Reckon he's getting soft in his old age, the soppy bastard.'

She wriggles further into his grasp.

'I understand exactly what happened, too,' he tells her, his head tilted downwards, his lips brushing her hair. 'As much as I disagree with how he shared his views, I can't argue with what Frank said, Lily. It's not just you and me. Too many people are trusting you with their lives for you to lose your head.'

Tears sting her eyes and she curls her head into his chest. He pulls her up, along his body, until her head is cradled in his neck.

'I need to trust you to get out alive, Lily. I need you to trust me to get out alive.'

It's too much. She sobs, her tears wetting his skin, her shuddering gasps tugging at him.

He brings his body out from under her, his arms still around her, and he lifts her. Her face is still pressed into him and he kisses her forehead.

'You're exhausted,' he says.

He climbs the stairs, holding her easily in his arms, and he enters the bathroom. The sink is still flecked with her blood. He sits her on the closed toilet lid while he runs the bath. She watches his movements quietly, her sobs now reduced to silent juddering tears. When the bath is ready, he turns back to her and pulls her up. He undresses her slowly, lingering over patches of skin to add his kisses and caresses to her bruises.

And then she is safely in his arms once again and the water is enveloping them both. He washes her carefully, and once done, encourages her to lean against his chest.

She draws absentminded patterns on his forearm and he scatters kisses wherever he can drop them. They take in the silence.

'I'm sorry.'

'Don't, Lily. There's no need. I'm not angry anymore. I can't fight with you.'

The smirk in his voice lifts her spirits.

She lifts her face to his and he takes the hint. The kiss is long and warm and finally she accepts his forgiveness for her monumental cock up. He nibbles her lips lightly and breaks away to bite the spot where her pulse stutters, his tongue soothing an ache she will always welcome. His mouth returns to hers for another searing kiss. When they pull apart, his hand on the back of her neck keeps her from retreating. Their noses touch, their breath mingles.

'Lily.' Her name is a timid sigh.

'Yes?'

'I won't be able to cope with this again.'

'I won't ever do it again.'

Quiet. Just water touching skin.

'Lily.' His voice has gained strength.

'Yes?'

'I need you to tell Moody you're pregnant.'