Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series or any of its characters or plot.

For All He Was Worth

"James is through with moping around. He's not going to let this cruddy war get to him, and that's that."

James sighed as sat down in the living room of Godric's Hollow. He'd never felt more frustrated in his life—then again, he seemed to be thinking that a lot, so maybe he was only exaggerating. But it felt good to exaggerate, so he didn't exactly care.

Peter had disclosed information to him about the Order meeting, and it hadn't been particularly cheerful, either. Voldemort seemed to be gaining more power by the minute. There were Death Eater attacks everywhere, disappearances from all over the country, and—James' throat constricted—the McKinnons, dead.

The McKinnons. One of the fallen, James had realized in horror, had been Marlene McKinnon; she had been just a year or two older than him at school. James never got to know her very well in his Hogwarts years, but he remembered, quite clearly, embedded in his memory for life, a pretty blond-haired girl who was always smiling, always optimistic, as if never having a worry in the world.

And now she was gone, another innocent life stripped away by a savage war.

They had talked at Order meetings, once or twice—for war brought very different people together—and Lily had met her too, talked to her... how would she even take the news?

Everything was going the wrong way. People weren't supposed to die. Voldemort should have been defeated by now.

For the umpteenth time, he wished he could use his Invisibility Cloak—he wished he could do something.

Neither can live while the other survives.

James nearly jumped out of his skin. He did not know where the thought came from, or why or when. Perhaps the stress was getting to him, but he was once again reminded that his son—his son, his only son, who was only a baby, only a child—was meant to defeat Lord Voldemort.

It wasn't right, it wasn't logical. Harry was only nearly a year old, and already the weight of the world was upon him.

James was frightened. James would never want to admit it, but he was scared. He always tried to stay upbeat, to keep up a shield of bravado, but he was scared—he was terrified. Terrified for himself, for Harry, for Lily, for Sirius, and Remus, and Peter, and—and all of them!

He hadn't seen Sirius or Remus for ages. Tonight was the full moon, so Remus was out of the question. Sirius couldn't drop by, though he promised he'd come soon. He'd tried to keep the worry out of his mind, but—what if one of them were next?

He leaned against the table, biting his lip. Sometimes he wished they could all just go back to the good old days, when all that mattered was talking McGonagall out of giving them detention and pranking Snivelly without getting caught and trying to persuade Lily to go out with him...

He shook his head. Alright, Potter. Deep breath, now. You can't afford to go sentimental. You're not that kind of guy, remember?

Slowly, he walked towards Harry's bedroom, taking care not to make any noise, in case he was asleep.

Instead, though, he heard Lily's voice, singing sweetly, ever so sweetly that it sounded like a lullaby even though it wasn't supposed to be lullaby— "Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts, teach us something please..."

Suddenly he grinned, opening the door softly. Lily, not noticing him, was cradling a sleeping Harry in her arms, smiling down at her child. "Whether we be old and bald, or young with scabby knees, our heads could do with filling, with interesting stuff..."

James' heart warmed. "For now they're bare and full of air," he sang suddenly, entering the room and sitting down next to her. Lily turned her head to look at him, startled. "Dead flies and bits of fluff..."

Lily flushed a little, and she smiled shakily. James, fully aware that he was an awful singer, went on: "So teach us things worth knowing—"

"B-bring back what we've f-forgot," said Lily, her voice trembling as she hugged Harry close to her chest.

"Just do your best," they sang softly together, and James was sure—just positively sure—that he saw Harry smile, as if in the middle of a very beautiful dream. "We'll do the rest, and learn until our brains all rot."

There was silence for a few moments, before Lily kissed him softly on the cheek and went to lay Harry down in his crib gently.

Lily continued to watch Harry in his crib, and before long James stood up and joined her. Harry was sleeping very soundly, and James wrapped an arm around his wife and asked, his eyes still locked on his son, "Lily, you alright?"

He felt her nod once, her head burying itself into his chest. "Lily?"

"Yes?"

For some crazy reason, James felt a mad desire to laugh. He turned to look down at her. "Why'd you choose that song, of all things?"

Lily pulled away from him, her expression completely serious. "It's a nice song," she said simply. "I don't care if you laugh," she said, as a corner of James' mouth curled up playfully, "It's a nice song, and you know it." She was silent for a few moments. "And... it reminded me of when we were at Hogwarts."

James sighed wistfully. "It does, doesn't it," he said, sitting down again.

"So... what happened at the Order meeting today?" There was a definite casualness in Lily's voice, as if she knew something wrong had happened and was bracing herself for it.

Suddenly James didn't want to tell her any sort of bad news. "Nothing much," he said slowly. "Voldemort's been gaining power, but—well, I reckon the Order's got their guard up pretty well." James, anxiously, tried to focus on the positive. There wasn't much. "And there were a bit of Death Eater attacks and Muggles disappearing, but—don't worry, the Order managed to stop nearly half of them, don't worry."

Lily was watching him closely. "James?" she asked gently. "Is everything all right?"

Dang it. James had never been able to lie straight to Lily's face, or try and hide the truth, either. He could have a million alibis, or a thousand ruses, but Lily always saw through him. (One would think, after tricking the Hogwarts professors about a gazillion times, it shouldn't be so hard—but, oh, it was.) It was like she was his weakness. And she probably was.

"What is it?" she asked, moving nearer to him, beautiful, brilliant emerald green staring into hazel.

Finally James gave in. "The McKinnons," he said simply, miserably.

Lily understood at once. "What?" she whispered, horrified, the green eyes filling up with tears.

James did not bother to confirm it with an answer. She knew what had happened. There was no changing that.

"Oh—oh, James!" Lily mumbled almost ramblingly, now positively sobbing. James squeezed his eyes shut and put his arm around her as she buried her face into his shoulder.

"Lily, it's alright, shh, Lily—" James knew nothing of what he was supposed to say—for he had never been very good with girls and emotions—but he would be there for her. Of course he would.

After some time—it could've been a few minutes, or maybe half an hour, or days and days and days—Lily lifted her head and looked up at him, her eyes red.

"J-James—w-what if V-Voldemort wins—what if the Prophecy—"

"Don't!" James hissed, horrified—he couldn't bear thinking about that possibility, he couldn't bear considering it. He stared at Harry, sleeping soundly in his crib. The very thought of Harry, his child, their child, dead, would be too much for him to stomach.

But it was as if Lily didn't even hear him. Her eyes were full of tears again. "But James, as long as—as long as Voldemort's here Harry's life is always in danger, and—James, what if he doesn't get to go to Hogwarts, and—"

"Yes, he'll get to go to Hogwarts!" said James, fighting to keep his voice down—he didn't want to wake Harry. "I don't care about Voldemort, Harry's going to go to Hogwarts, and he's going to have the time of his life, Prophecy be damned!"

Lily bit her lip and nodded.

James stared at Lily; Lily stared at the floor. It was so unlike her, to break down like this. Usually it was she who cheered him up, who kept a positive outlook on things.

But of course, war was bound to change both of them, sometime.

Lily looked at him, forced a smile, shook her head, and stood up to leave the room.

"Oh no you don't," said James, catching her wrist. He pulled her back down, cupping her face in his hands.

"James, just leave me alone, I—"

And James kissed her, kissed her as if he never had before, and Lily was kissing him back—and suddenly, nothing mattered; not Voldemort, not the Prophecy—just their family: she, Lily, and he, James, and their child, their son, Harry.

Then—after a few minutes (hours? days?)—Lily pulled away, looking slightly flustered.

"You know I hate it when you do that," she breathed, but James saw that she was smiling all the same.

"No, you don't," he said, laughing quietly.

Lily glared at him, though her twitching lips gave her away. "No, I guess I don't." A pause. "James—thank you. For being here."

James rolled his eyes playfully. "What, did you expect any different?" he asked. "I am your husband, you know. And Harry's dad, too, so there."

And at last Lily laughed.

James knew that there would be trouble heading their way. He knew they would probably be stuck right in the middle of it. He even knew that there was a possibility, a possibility that he wouldn't ever want to think about again, that this war would get them killed.

But the the truth was that he didn't care, and he'd be damned if he just wallowed in self-pity and didn't bite back—no. Because that wasn't the James Potter that he was supposed to be.

And so he vowed to fight for all he was worth, and for what Lily was worth, and what Harry was worth, and Sirius, and Remus, and Peter, and the McKinnon family, and everyone who had died in this war, and for everything Voldemort was not.

AN: I don't really think this was one of my best works—the start was good enough, I guess, but I think I rushed the ending a bit. I don't know. *sighs* Well, reviews and constructive criticism are very, very well appreciated.