Author's Notes:

I was a little hesitant to have prologue that was from the point of view of Dorea, because the remainder of the story (save for a couple chapters) will be from the points of view of Sirius, James, Remus, Regulus, and Peter. Thus, if you don't want to read a story entirely from Dorea's perspective, please keep reading; it's just the prologue (and a couple chapters way later on).

Secondly, this story has a lot of flashbacks. When those occur, I reverse the italics. For instance: in present time, the font is regular and thoughts are in italics, whereas in a flashback, the font is italicized and thoughts are regular. I also try to make it clear when a flashback is occurring with the flow of the story. The name in parentheses at the top of a section will indicate whose point of view that section is written from.

Thirdly, I know that it has been revealed on Pottermore that Dorea isn't James' mother, but I'm still holding onto the fact that Dorea and Charlus were his parents. I try to stay as close to canon as I can, but with new writing coming out on Pottermore so frequently, it's challenging to do so. The story is pretty true to canon as far as the original books go.

Also, just as a warning, I am rating this story an M for later chapters. Most chapters are not M, but there are/will be some swearing and violence in later chapters. I will put specific warnings at the top of those chapters.

(Dorea Potter)

Dorea Potter had been born Dorea Black. When she thought back on her childhood and early years, she often wondered what higher power had intervened to spare her from the misguided thoughts of her relatives. As she could still vividly, yet grudgingly, recall, she had not always viewed the world as she did now. She had been born the fourth child of two very prominent wealthy members of elite wizarding society. As such, Dorea had been informed of her pristine pure blood from birth; she was better than almost all others, and she was a member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

From a very young age, Dorea had taken immense pride in her surname and all of the privileges that she had been told went with it. She had looked at muggles with a learned demeanor of disdain and, because she was naturally compassionate, pity. Looking back now, she could almost chide herself for how foolishly naïve she had been back then – to think that muggles were so weak and stupid that they deserved pity rather than respect. Dorea often liked to forget that she had ever thought of muggles, who she now considered equals to magic folk, as inferiors.

Like all members of the Black family, she had been brought up to know exactly how to conduct herself in high society. Her parents were constantly taking her to social events where she would meet and mingle with the most elite members of the wizarding community. By the time she was old enough to attend school however, much of the glamorous world she thought she knew had changed.

Dorea's earliest childhood memories were not at all happy despite their lavishness; yet, her parents had changed their ways significantly after her elder sister, Cassiopeia, fell tragically ill when Dorea was eight. For almost as long as she could remember, her sister had been ill – mostly bedridden, and though Dorea did not realize until she was older, the untimely illness of her sister had spared Dorea from her parents' severity. She, now the only public daughter and the youngest child, was granted a leniency that her cousins, and even her brother, Pollux, were not afforded. At eight years old, Dorea witnessed how life could change in the blink of an eye. Her once healthy sister was so ill and frail that she could not return to Hogwarts for her third year of school. Instead, Cassiopeia stayed home, shut up in her bedroom, and Dorea was not permitted to visit her.

That same year, her brother Marius did not receive a Hogwarts acceptance letter, thus confirming her family's suspicions that he was indeed a squib. This was of the highest disgrace for her family – or so she had been told at the time. Marius – the thought of him now still brought tears to her eyes – had been ostracized fully after that. He was sent promptly away to a muggle boarding school in Switzerland, and he was never allowed to return home again. If he had ever written to her, Dorea still did not know. She had never received any letters, though she knew that her parents would not have allowed her to correspond with a squib, and would have taken it upon themselves to prevent such a relationship. After her mother and father had been so quick to lock Cassiopeia away from society and to cast Marius out of their family entirely, Dorea had become even more terrified than ever to make even the slightest mistake in her parents' eyes.

By the time she was old enough to attend school, she had perfected her ability to portray a beautiful, flawless, emotionless, marble statue. She was admired by her family and her peers for her beauty, intelligence, wit, and grace. She made friends within her house: Slytherin. Yet, she was not happy. Dorea's early years of Hogwarts, like her years at home, were encompassed by a tremendous fear of being less than her surname and her family required of her. By her fifth year, her parents were already beginning to pick out a suitor for her. But, that was the year that everything changed once again, and she had left the world she thought she knew far behind.

Dorea sat neatly by the lake in the white Louis 14th chair that she'd conjured. She was reading her fifth-year Transfiguration textbook. She wished that the tree beside her was providing more shade; the last thing she wanted was a sunburn when she met her parents' latest selection for a potential husband.

I do hope he's kind. She thought to herself. Suddenly, Dorea was aware of a rising commotion heading her way. Students were yelling, laughing, and shouting.

"Look out!" a boy's voice yelled, and Dorea stood and turned to look behind her towards the grounds, when something large and solid crashed into her. She was shocked by the impact, she was falling backward, and all at once she was underwater in the lake on her back. Paralyzed by shock, she hardly noticed the heavy thing getting off of her. Dorea sat up in the water, coughing, thoroughly embarrassed and confused. She looked around to see what had hit her and then she saw him.

He was sitting there beside her, handsome as the devil with a look of utter shock on his face. He had a mop of messy black hair that was dripping wet. His t-shirt, equally soaked, clung to him. When she saw him, although her first thought was to scold this boy for what he'd done to her – didn't he know how to behave in a lady's presence – she must not have looked angry enough, because that handsome reckless boy dared to smile at her.

You should be apologizing to me profusely, not smiling! She thought furiously.

"You've got a bit of leaf" he said, reaching towards her face. They were only a foot or so apart, and so Dorea lurched backward to avoid him.

"I beg your pardon" she exclaimed, some of her confidence returning to her now that the initial shock of being plowed into by this boy and falling into the lake was passing. She sounded every bit the pampered sophisticated young elite that she was. He retracted his hand and gave a small laugh.

"I'm sorry" he said, still chuckling. "But, you've got a bit of leaf in your hair and the way you're glaring at me… it's as if you're Medusa reincarnate."

Dorea gawked at him. She had never been spoken to so rudely in all her life. She stood up, and he quickly followed suit. He extended a hand to her to help her out of the water, but she ignored it. As she walked, she pulled at her wet hair and yanked a very large, slimy green leaf out of her hair. She gave a little screech and threw it into the lake.

"How dare you!" She rounded on the boy as soon as they'd reached the grassy shore. There were people standing with them on the bank but she didn't care. How dare he humiliate her like this? How dare he laugh at her instead of apologize, and then compare her to Medusa?!

"I'm really sorry" he said earnestly, putting up his hands in defense. Isn't he on one of the other houses' Quidditch team? Dorea wasn't sure; she had never paid much mind to Quidditch. Merlin, he is handsome. No; it doesn't matter if he's handsome, he's rude and clearly uncivilized.

"For what? Plowing into me? Knocking me into the lake? Or comparing me to a mythical monster with a face that could turn men to stone?" She was glaring at him, and to her utter surprise and frustration, that boy apparently had the audacity to laugh at her anger.

He was laughing – albeit he appeared to be struggling hard not to – but he was actually laughing behind his hand all the same. Covering his mouth, and shaking his head apologetically, he managed

"I'm sorry for all of those things, and one more."

"Oh, and what is that, may I ask?" Dorea snapped back, eyeing him with disdain. He wasn't laughing anymore as he took a few steps closer to her. He leaned down to whisper in her ear so that the onlookers wouldn't hear. She had half a second to wonder why before he whispered

"I'm sorry that I don't know your name, because, leaf and all, you are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen." Dorea almost smiled. No. Flattery doesn't work on me after you've just behaved in such a way and hardly even given a real apology. And now he thinks he's going to get a date out of it? Must be a Gryffindor.

"Yes, well…" she said, stepping backward away from him and picking up her transfiguration textbook off the grass. "I'm not interested." Before he could reply, she turned on her heel and began marching back up towards the castle. Wait until I tell the girls about this! Not a minute later, that boy was jogging up beside her.

"I really am very sorry" he told her. She glanced over at him, still soaking wet, his long hair messier than ever. How could anyone stand to be so handsome? She did not slow down in her retreat to the castle.

"Perhaps those should have been your first words after you rammed me into the lake."

"You're right. They should have been. I'm sorry for that as well." She stole another glance at him; he was looking at her hopefully behind round hazel eyes.

"Fine." She said, "You're forgiven; now you may leave me in peace."

"Can I at least know your name?" he asked her. Dorea sighed.

"Dorea Black, if you must know." She kept walking.

"Dorea" he said. "What a lovely name."

"Thank you" she said, already annoyed by this boy, yet unable to refrain from using her instilled manners to thank him for the compliment. "Good day." She added, dismissively.

"Wouldn't you like to know my name?"

"Not really. I'd prefer to carry on as if this incident and meeting you never occurred."

"But how will you address all of your letters of anger for the humiliation I've caused you?" He was teasing her, and she knew it. She tried to hide her smirk from him. "I'm in Gryffindor" he told her. Hadn't that just been so obvious? She stopped at the foot of the front steps. She did not want to walk in, soaking wet with this boy. Goodness knows what people would think, and she couldn't risk looking shameful.

"Fine. Tell me your name if you must, and then kindly part from me. I have no desire to spend my time talking to a boy who rudely plows ladies into lakes while they're reading." Again, he laughed at her choice of words. "You aren't helping your case by laughing at me, you know. Tell me your name so that after today I can do my best to avoid you and never speak to someone so ungracious again."

He looked unabashed by her words, and instead adopted a more confident – if not arrogant – expression. He held out a hand for her to shake and offered her a little bow, still grinning recklessly. He might just be the most handsome boy she had ever laid eyes on – not that it mattered because she didn't like him.

"Dorea, I'm very honored to meet you." He said smoothly, and she thought that she could now pick up an heir of aristocracy in his manner. "My name is Charlus Potter."

Even still today, after many happy years of marriage, Dorea still thought of the day that Charlus fell into her life as the day the real world literally hit her like a well-built Quidditch player and woke her up in a lake. Her life was never the same after he had entered it. She had at first tried to do all she could to avoid him, but despite his initial rudeness upon meeting, he was quite charming. More than that, his view of the world -politics, muggles, and traditions - was fascinating. She had never heard anyone talk the way he did – animated, alive, excited about everything and truly eager to make a difference in the world. Dorea had been fascinated to learn that not all members of the upper class upheld all of the behavioral traditions that her family insisted upon so religiously.

Being the youngest daughter of aging parents, Dorea had been allowed to marry Charlus Potter, the man who revealed to her that not all pureblood families were like hers, when she was nineteen. It was the happiest day of her life up until that point. She had never dared to imagine she'd marry for love – it just didn't happen in the elitist pureblood families – and yet she had been that fortunate.

Life with Charlus could not have been more enjoyable. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that she had never dared to let herself envision living a life she had chosen for herself; or perhaps it was the way he looked at her, spoke to her, treated her – as if she was his entire world. Dorea went on to pursue a career in medicine, and she worked as a Healer at St. Mungo's for many years. It wasn't what her own parents would have had her do, but it was what she wanted, and that had been all that had mattered to her husband. There was no real reason for her to feel unhappy, and yet she was so. More than anything, she wanted a child. When she was younger, Dorea had always feared bringing a child of her own into the world she knew. It was a harsh, strict, demanding world – full of obligation and false smiles.

Dorea had always been grateful, however, that she had not been in the main line of the Black family tree; her child would never run the unfortunate risk of being declared the heir of the Black family's main ancestral line. No, that unfortunate task fell onto her cousin: Orion. She had always felt bad for the poor boy when he was a child. Dorea's cousin Arcturus II, Orion's father, was a very hostile man, and he had never given the child a moment's peace. Dorea would have liked to have believed that this had been in Arcturus' nature, for surely that would have been less tragic than the truth, which was that Arcturus' father – her own uncle – Sirius II, had been equally as horrendous to his son. Thus, she understood - or at least she could attempt to rationalize - the cruelty, because she had witnessed the way the heirs of the main line had been treated first hand when she was a child. The boys were treated with merciless severity, and the girls as political pawns who had no right to be anything but flawless.

Dorea had grown estranged from her elder brother, Pollux, as the years passed. After he married – a wretched woman named Irma Crabbe –, the two had borne three children: Walburga, Alphard, and Cygnus. At first Dorea feared that her brother would fall into the habit of cruel ruthlessness that many of the men in the Black family seemed to adopt; yet, he did not. Dorea was pleased to see that her niece and nephews were brought up happy – though they were treated as if they were royalty and spoilt beyond all imagination. Dorea had spent a few summers with Alphard as her little ward, and she had tried to instill the notions in his young mind that blood purity did not truly matter. Yet, as the years passed, Dorea grew estranged from her brother and his family; their views on blood status differed so greatly from her and Charlus' opinions that civilized conversation became nearly impossible.

It was not until several years of not speaking to her brother when she found out that he had arranged for his only daughter to marry into the direct line. A marriage of the two was, in Dorea's firm opinion, a disastrous proposition. Not only were Orion, the direct heir, and Walburga second cousins, but it would also mean that Dorea's own future great nephew, or nephews, would be exposed to the harsh treatment that all Black heirs in the direct line were subjected to. It had pained her so greatly to hear of it. All she and Charlus wanted was a child – and they had tried for so many years without avail – and here were her relatives incestually having children, which they were sure to mistreat terribly. Walburga and Orion had not been married a year before their first child was born. Dorea had not been invited to the christening of the young heir; yet, that same year, Dorea had finally had a precious miracle of her own to call son, and she fell out of contact with the Black family altogether.

As time passed, Dorea was able to happily escape into her life of light, laughter, and joy with Charlus and their son, James. She gave little thought to her maiden name, or to the Black family that she had once called herself a part of. Thus, Dorea was quite caught off her guard on the sunny warm summer's day when she suddenly found herself faced with them for the first time in years.

"James!" Dorea called laughing happily as her five-year-old miracle, with his perpetually messy black hair and twinkling hazel eyes, ran along Diagon Alley in front of her. He had been there many times, but at such a young age, his young mind could not retain the memories, and he always reacted with the surprise and awe as if everything he was seeing was for the first time. Oh the blissful enchantment granted to the young!

She caught up to her son at Quality Quidditch Supplies. James, alight with happiness, was bobbing up and down in front of the shop window, his head only barely seeing inside despite the fact that he was standing on the tips of his toes.

"Mummy!" he was saying as she approached. It seemed he had been repeating the word several times, for he still had the childlike innocence of believing that his parents would surely follow him wherever he ran off to – which, in the case of Dorea and Charlus, they most certainly did – and that danger did not exist. My goodness, you keep us young.

"Yes dear? What is it that you see?"

"Broom!" James was jabbing his little index finger into glass. "Mummy, broom! Look!"

"Yes, it is magnificent. I see it, darling."

"Can we get it? Can we, Mummy? Please!" Dorea's soft smile widened. She knew that she should not spoil her son so much; surely it would come back to bite her during his teenage years, but… how could anyone say 'no' to such an adorable hopeful face…especially when it was to a request so easily granted? What harm would it do to buy him the broom? None. No harm at all.

"Well, James. You have been a very good boy for this whole trip, haven't you?" He stared up at her, his eyes beaming with anticipation, and his mouth curving into a knowing smile. "Yes, we can get it."

James let out a scream of pure exhilarated joy and hopped up and down several times. He charged at her and wrapped her in a hug just above the knees. Not fifteen minutes later, Dorea and James were exiting the shop hand-in-hand; in her other hand, she held a bag which contained the small child-sized broomstick.

"Thank you Mummy! Thank you! Can I ride it? When can I ride it? Can I ride it now?"

"As soon as we get home, you can ride it, dear. But Mummy has a bit more shopping to do. How about we go get you an ice cream cone for you to eat?" That should keep you entertained, and hopefully content to stand in one place, while I finish up.

"Can I get sprinkles?"

"James Potter, have you ever not gotten sprinkles?" she teased lovingly. James giggled and jumped with delight and boundless energy once more.

"No."

"That's right. What a silly question. Of course you can get sprinkles." The parlor was in sight now, and James slid his little hand out of hers and took off at a run towards it. Dorea sighed with happiness. There was nothing she loved more than seeing her son happy. One day it will take more than toy broomsticks and sprinkles… ah, I'll enjoy every moment of this while it lasts. It took Dorea a few minutes to make it to the ice cream parlor; she was not as young as she used to be for one thing, and for another, unlike a five-year-old, she could not weave her way through the dense crowd of people unobtrusively.

When she arrived at the entrance, she spotted her son inside near the counter. He was talking to two small boys, one of which looked about James' age, and the other slightly younger. Unlike her son, who was dressed in play clothes, the two boys were dressed in fancy robes, which, in her opinion, were rather too heavy for the hot summer weather. Dorea drew nearer, but she did not interrupt the boys. She always wanted to encourage her son to be social and make friends. From where she now stood leaning against the wall of the ice cream parlor, she could hear their adorable conversation.

"My favorite is banilla." The youngest was saying.

"It's vanilla, Reg." The other corrected, shooting a grin at James.

"That's what I said. Banilla."

"He's only four. He doesn't know."

"I'm five." James said triumphantly.

"Me too! What kind are you going to pick?" asked the taller boy.

"Raspberry! With rainbow sprinkles of course." As always. "What will you get?"

"Uhh…" The boy's smile faltered, but was quick to return. "I'll get pumpkin spice…if she lets me."

"Who? Your Mum?"

"Yeah."

"Siri, I want banilla." The littlest of the three repeated, tugging on lightly on his brother's sleeve.

"I know, Reg. I'll get you your vanilla."

"Does she not like pumpkin spice?" James asked. The boy laughed.

"Mum doesn't eat ice cream."

"Why won't she let you get it then?" Again, the small boy's smile faded, and he shuffled his feet a bit.

"I did something bad." The boy told him, and James' eyes widened.

"It must have been really bad if she won't let you get ice cream!" James said, positively horrified at the prospect of someone losing an ice cream. The boy nodded gravely. "What did you do?"

"I-I…" he hung his head, "I accidentally talked to a muggle. Accidentally." James cocked his head to the side in confusion. "I-in the pothcary."

Dorea wondered if she should intervene. She did not want James getting confused by prejudices that this little boy's parents had unjustly confused their own son with.

"What's the pothcary?" The littlest one asked, pulling on his brother's sleeve.

"You know, Reg. The one we were in with all the potions."

"Smelly." All three of them laughed.

"Yes."

"So?" James mentioned, still confused. The little raven-haired boys' eyes widened with shock, and they exchanged a look. They had clearly never questioned that muggles were inferior to themselves, nor heard anyone act as if they were not, before.

"Muggles are – " Dorea felt her time to interject had arrived.

"Hello, boys." She said smiling. They looked up at her. James was grinning.

"Mum, why is it bad that he talked to a muggle?" It most certainly isn't. How to answer this without confusing any of the three. My goodness… Dorea's musing was cut abruptly short by the sound of a loud high-pitched harsh voice.

"Sirius Orion Black, how dare you go running off like that!"

Dorea turned to see a tall, thin, rather beautiful, yet stern-looking woman. She looked to be about 23. She was completely over-dressed, wearing a tight ankle-length green gown and very high heels. She had jet black hair, which was pinned up elegantly in curls, thus revealing massive fire opal and diamond earrings. True, Dorea had not seen her young niece in many years, but Walburga Black was unmistakable. Walburga seemed to catch sight of Dorea, and her expression changed to a more tranquil one.

"Dorea? My dear Aunt Dorea" she said with a false kindness that Dorea recognized all too well from a lifetime of dealing with the Black family. False kindness was in their nature.

"Walburga," Dorea said sweetly. "What a surprise. Are these your sons?" The two women turned to look down at the three boys. Dorea was upset, but not surprised, to see that Walburga's two sons were cowering, the elder one now strategically positioned in front of the younger, as if to shield him.

"Yes." Walburga answered, and her voice held no affection. "This is Sirius, our family's heir." At the introduction, the taller of the two small raven-haired boys stood up straighter and held out his hand for her to shake. Dorea crouched down and shook the little hand gently.

"Hello, dear."

"I'm very pleased to meet you" he said shyly. The words sounded rehearsed.

"Aren't you polite!" Not surprised, you poor dear. "I'm very pleased to meet you as well." Dorea spoke as warmly as she could, but he did not smile.

"And behind him is Regulus." The littlest boy poked his head out from around his brother's arm at the sound of his name.

"Hello, Regulus." Dorea said smiling. He returned the smile. "This is my son, James." Walburga turned her stern gaze down onto James, who was eyeing her curiously.

"Hi" James said happily.

"Hello, Master Potter." Dorea's niece answered curtly.

"Shall we all sit together?" Dorea suggested, trying to be as friendly as she could. Her niece eyed the tables with disdain.

"I suppose we could stay for a short while." The five of them sat down at one of the round tables. Dorea was seated between Walburga and James, with Regulus on the other side of James, and Sirius seated between his brother and his mother. A short moment later, a young wizard of about sixteen came over to take their order.

"Can I help you ma'ams?" Walburga's eyes traveled up him and she turned her head away in a look of pure revulsion.

"Yes, thank you. We'd like to order" Dorea said with an apologetic look at the waiter. "James, honey, tell him what you'd like."

"A raspberry with rainbow sprinkles in a cone" James announced brightly.

"Great choice!" The waiter said with a friendly grin. He turned to look at the other two boys. "How about you two?"

"He'd like a vanilla in a bowl please." Sirius said.

"Alright, and you?" Sirius paused, his eyes darting to his mother, who still had not looked away from the large front window of the parlor.

"I'll have –" but at this point, the long painted red nails on Walburga's right hand tapped the tabletop once in succession. Sirius stopped speaking at the sound, and then, after a second's pause, "I don't want anything, thank you."

Really! Walburga, you are being absurd. You won't let this young child have an ice cream, all because he spoke to someone that you do not approve of based on nothing more than a petty prejudice! I should say something. Not my place. Oh, but that poor child.

"Are you sure?" the waiter asked, and this time Walburga did turn her intimidating glare on him, causing the young man to take a step backward. He shuffled away hastily.

"Walburga, surely Sirius would like an ice cream as well, don't you agree?"

The stunningly beautiful, yet very harsh, woman raised one of her elegant thin eyebrows. Walburga turned to her son, speaking frankly.

"Sirius, do you want an ice cream?" The young boy looked very confused now, and was clearly afraid to answer lest he upset his mother further. "Well?" she demanded.

"Y-yes, Mother." Walburga let her hand collapse flat onto the table loudly and her eldest son gave a start as if she had slammed the table. She was glowering at the poor child.

"Do you think you deserve an ice cream after what you did at the Apothecary?" His face fell and he cast his eyes downward.

"No, Mother."

"Thus, do you want an ice cream?"

"No, Mother."

"There, you see, Dorea, he does not want an ice cream. Sirius understands discipline. He does not desire what he does not deserve."

"Really, Walburga? He is a child. Don't you think-"

"I do not attempt to tell you how to raise your son, Aunt. Do not aim to tell me how I will raise mine." Dorea sighed.

"You're right. I'm sorry for overstepping."

At that point, the waiter returned with the two ice creams, and both James and Regulus ate happily. Dorea could not draw her eyes away from Sirius: the Black heir. Oh, how she had feared for what his life would be like even before he had been born. Her great-nephew, subjected to the parenting of Orion and Walburga. Poor dear. The boy sat quietly, staring at his hands in his lap, looking utterly miserable. Beside her, James wasn't used to being so quiet.

"Today, I got a new broomstick!" he shared. Both boys looked at him in awe.

"Are you going to fly on it?" Sirius asked.

"Yes! As soon as I get home!"

"You're so lucky" Sirius breathed.

"I can't wait! Mum, how high does it go?"

"Five feet." Dorea told the two boys.

"It goes five whole feet!" James reiterated to his cousin. "I'm going to fly over mountains."

"Wow!" The two conversed about the broomstick for another five minutes until both James and Regulus had finished their ice creams. Walburga stood.

"Well, Aunt, it was certainly a pleasant surprise seeing you after such a long estrangement" Walburga lied with a small smile on her beautiful porcelain face.

"Yes. I am glad to see that you are doing well." Dorea now addressed her two young sons. "Sirius, Regulus, it was very nice to meet both of you as well." Regulus stared at her with big grey eyes, and Sirius obligatorily held out a hand for her to shake once more.

"Thank you. It was a pleasure to meet you." I can hardly believe he's only five years old. Sadly though, I can. All of the Blacks in the main line have always been treated like mini adults since the age of two or so. She shook his hand once more and tried to give the little child an encouraging smile. He turned to James.

"Nice to meet you. Have fun on your new broomstick."

"Thanks!" Thus, as suddenly as the Black family had popped back onto her radar, they were now leaving the ice cream parlor just ahead of Dorea and James.

Dorea couldn't shake her young niece's treatment of the poor boy, who had really made no mistake at all. She reached down and hugged James tightly. She knew that she couldn't help all of the children of the world who deserved better treatment, but she could at least make sure that she gave the one precious child she did have the best life possible.

"How was your ice cream, dear?"

"Delicious, Mum!"

"I'm very glad to hear that."