A/N:- Written for The Limes Network, in collaboration with mickisketch (who provided the fantastic art used as the cover image for the story). Thank you for reading!

The sight of snow never bothered Lily till she stood with her ankles submerged in a blanket of white covering her husband's grave. She never knew she could feel such hate for something inanimate till she felt her baby boy squirming to be let down by his father's grave.

Hot tears rolled down her cold cheeks and grief welled within her chest.

Lily set Harry down and he tumbled forward, incoherent words bubbling at his lips. He waddled up to the grey stone. She kneeled down as Harry ran his chubby fingers over the words etched into it, looking over his shoulder at his mother. Bits of snow cascaded to the floor.

"Pa!" Harry uttered, his bright eyes shining with interest.

Lily smiled in return, placing the wreath on the snow, listening to Harry repeat the sound.

James had always wanted to be remembered for something great… Now he was. The world would never forget his sacrifice and she would never forget his lifeless eyes staring up at her while their son trembled in her arms. The name 'James Potter' would be remembered for posterity as the boy who defeated the Dark Lord and Harry would grow up knowing his father from pictures, memories and the statue that towered over the brave, fallen soldier's grave.

James was a mass of broken dreams and ambitions sleeping beneath the snow.

The night was wet and windy. James Potter sat in his living room, reveling in the sound of laughter that filled the house. Harry tried to grab the puffs of smoke erupting from his wand. As the smoke changed colour once more, Harry giggled and swatted at it.

"It's getting late. We'd better get Harry to bed," Lily said as she entered the room. She cooed, "We've got an early day tomorrow, don't we, Harry?"

James ran a hand through his hair," Tea, again?"

She nodded, pushing her long hair back and retrieving her son. She placed a kiss on her husband's cheek, smiling, catching James's eye. Letting the infant play with her hair, she grabbed his night clothes from the counter and began making her way to Harry's nursery.

James rose, throwing his wand upon the sofa and yawning. He didn't hear the gate leading up to their home creak as it was opened. He didn't notice a strange, hooded figure make his way over the threshold. He didn't realize what was happening until it was too late.

"Harry," Lily called after him. "I think that's enough flying for one day."

The toddler zoomed around in their backyard on his miniature broom, his face screwed in concentration. He narrowly avoided the startled cat, the latter who considered him her nemesis. The wind carried away his thrilled yells as he shot downwards and swooped close to the damp grass.

"Harry James Potter," impatience crept into her voice.

"Five more minutes, Mum, please," he dragged the last word like he often would when he was pleading with his mother but he knew it was a losing battle. He didn't have to look at her to know that her eyes had narrowed and an eyebrow was raised.

He groaned, flying to her. While he landed gracefully, his broom didn't share his luck. It flew past him and crashed into the grass. He cringed at the raggedy tail of the broom.

"When can I get a real broom? I wanted to try some real tricks."

"I s'pose that's alright for now seeing as you still have milk teeth… but you wouldn't want to break them once they're permanent."

"Mum, I'm better at flying than you think. Maybe you can teach me to chase a Snitch tomorrow!"

She had never thought she'd be the one to teach Harry how to fly. She shouldn't have been. She swallowed the lump in her throat, "Harry, we've got to be ready to leave for Padfoot's soon."

Harry perked up at that, "Is it time? Are we going to Padfoot's?"

Unruly black hair, knobby knees, pointy elbows, lanky frame and a wide grin on his small face; Harry was barely six years old but he already looked like the spitting image of his father. Except for the eyes. He had inherited his mother's sparkling, green eyes.

"First, we're having lunch. Come in and help me set the table, then make sure you have a bath, okay, love?"

He bobbed his head, taking his mother's hand, "As soon as I get to Hogwarts, I'm going to be in the Quidditch team."

Lily chortled, ruffling his hair, "Yeah? Excellent! Have you thought about which house you'd like to go to, if you've got the choice?"

"Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart," Harry mimicked brandishing a sword. "Just like you!" He paused. His cheeks turned red and he blushed, looking at his feet, "And dad. Would he like that? Padfoot says he would."

"Well, of course he would," she replied without missing a beat. "If anyone could have led the Harry-Potter-Fan-Club, it would have been your father but only because he'd stubbornly fight Sirius and me until we gave up."

Harry grinned, threading a hand through his hair, "Alright but can we call it a 'squad'? Padfoot calls it so."

"Seeing as I'm the president, I think we can. I'll have to remember to get us matching t-shirts for it later…"

Beads of sweet were peppered all over his face and his skin appeared tanner than usual. He had Chudley Cannons's colours painted into streaks on his cheeks and the paint was dripping down his chin but he didn't seem to mind. He beamed at her, satisfied. There was a newfound spring in Harry's steps.

She didn't remember telling Harry that she'd heard his father talk like that.

Harry resembled his father in more than just in looks.

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off," their names were a cry reluctantly wrenched from his grasp.

Hold him off. He didn't stand a chance but he had to try.

There was an itch in his palms, craving the presence of his wand. He didn't hesitate, though. Chin up, straight-backed and determined, he faced the Dark Lord. Perhaps a minute was all he could give them but it was enough if it got them to safety.

The Dark Lord's laugh was cold and humourless, "Stand aside, boy. Don't be a fool."

Lily, please hurry.

"Leave them. Take me instead," his lips were suddenly dry, his voice gruff. "Please."

"Stand aside and let me through if you know what's good for you. I'd rather not waste anymore magical blood like yours. This is your last chance."

How anyone could talk about murder so emotionlessly was beyond James. But he would not move. He shook his head and when he opened his mouth, the words died at his tongue. The fear, anger, contempt was replaced with nothingness.

Green light flashed in the cramped hallway, it lit the pram pushed against the wall, it made the banisters glare like lightning rods, and James Potter fell like a marionette whose strings were cut…

Dear Mum,

I hope you're well. Alright, sorry it's been so long since I last wrote. I do mean that. Hogwarts is wonderful and there's so much to do. It feels strange not sleeping in my own bed and not having you down the hall but my dorm mates are pretty great too. Last night we stayed up testing out Bertie Bott's finest flavours. I got earwax vomit… It was ghastly.

Ron's doing all right. He's rather nice and I think I'll ask him if he'd like to spend part of the summer with us, if that's okay with you. He's got five older brothers and a younger sister. He says they can be irritating at times but I don't know. Anyways, I've got Sirius and Remus and our cat so I reckon our house is pretty full too. I forgot to mention, Ron likes Quidditch as well and he's going to try out next year for the team, same as me.

Classes have been going okay. I like Transfiguration but it's tough. Professor McGonagall isn't easily impressed either. I think she knows you've been teaching me spells… Charms is fun, though. Flitwick was mighty pleased when I showed him I could do a levitating charm. He says he expected nothing less from your son. But Snape's a nightmare. He doesn't like me very much and he particularly hates me when I speak. He's really just unreasonable. Too bad I couldn't have Slughorn like you and Dad. DADA's still my favourite. I think the new teacher likes me but I did accidentally drop dungbombs in her class and she promised she's have a word with you. Has she written you yet?

I've made friends some friends in Slytherin as well but Draco's downright annoying. Honestly! He can never keep his mouth shut. I think I'll challenge him to a duel or something one of these days. I'm joking. I won't get in trouble! Because a good Marauder never allows himself to be caught. I suspect you'll want a word with Sirius soon.

I'll write you this weekend. I'm going to go watch Gryffindor trounce Hufflepuff now! I miss you! Can't wait to be home for Christmas. Make sure you hide the cat's woolen ball for me. I like to believe she misses me… Okay, I promise I won't trouble her as much when I get back. I do miss her.

Take care, Mum.

With love,
Harry.

Lily stacked the boxes against the door. Tears prickles behind her eyes and the sound of James's body hitting the floor played like a broken record in her mind. It was difficult to fathom a world without him. Not having him at her side every morning, not hearing his singing while he read the paper and Harry attempted to copy him, not breathing in his scent every night when she went to bed.

If she survives, perhaps then she'll have the chance to him.

She dropped Harry into his cot as the sight of the intruding wizard and threw her arms wide as if it would shield her son.

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" she choked.

His patience was wearing thin. She pleaded with him in vain, imagining the tip of his wand glowing green before her world faded away.

"Please, no. Take me! Kill me instead!"

"You silly girl… Stand aside!" he rumbled. Foolish children thinking they stood a chance against the Dark Lord. He'd have what he came for. He had waited long enough, as it is. He raised his wand, "Avada Kedavra."

The room was lit bright green, yellows walls glowing emerald. Lily waited for the numbness to set in but all she felt was hot, searing pain. She saw Voldemort's face twist in agony and then he was gone. The wooden floor was cold against her cheek and Harry was crying in the cot behind her.

She wanted to pick him up, hug him tightly, and tell him everything was okay.

It wasn't.

"I think he fancies her," Sirius smirked in Harry's direction where he was talking to a pretty girl, smiling at everything she said.

"Glad to see he didn't get his old man's pathetic skills then," Lily mumbled, her lips twitching. She watched Harry make his way back to them, his hand messing up his hair and the mesmerized grin on his face not quite gone. "Cho, wasn't it?"

Harry blinked, "Hm?"

"Your friend," Lily said slowly. "She's rather attractive."

Harry's ears were tinted red and he stumbled over his words, "Oh, yeah? I-I guess-maybe-sure-I hadn't, uh, noticed?"

Sirius clapped him on the back, barking with laughter. Remus remained tactfully silent but even he couldn't hide the knowing smirk from plastering itself on his face. They had seen this before in the case of another similar-looking boy of fifteen.

"If you say so," Lily shrugged.

"Mum."

"What?"

"I don't fancy her," Harry stated.

"Okay, okay," Lily rolled her eyes. "But I'll be sure to confirm that with Ron."

"Merlin's sagging skin!" he made an annoyed expression. "Besides, she supports the Tornadoes. I could never go out with someone Padfoot didn't approve of."

"We raised you right, then," Sirius declared, throwing an arm over his shoulders and leading him into the stadium. "There's two things you must always remember: first, keep a wastebasket ready before you try Lily's cooking-"

"Oi, I was raised as a muggle. I can cook better than you!"

He went on as if he had never been interrupted, "-and second, Tornadoes' fans can never be trusted. Chudley Cannons is the only way to go. Look at Ron, Ginny, Hermione, Bill and the other Weasleys. They're a right bunch and who do they support? See what I mean? Magpies will do but Cannons are the only way to go."

"Slow down there, Snuffles," Remus said, cringing. "Harry, don't take him seriously. Be nice when you ask her-"

"Hey!"

"-if you ask her out," he amended quickly.

"None of that 'go out with me' nonsense. Your proposition needs to be a question, not a statement," Lily added. "Also avoid the lake."

"Be sure to use words she can understand," Sirius put in. "Two words thrown together don't make some vaguely sensible, comprehensible word."

The stadium erupted in cheers, lights flashing into the sky as the players flew around the pitch. Harry's dodged distracted fans and strained to listen but Sirius had already grown engrossed in watching the match. Only Lily watched Harry, nibbling on her lower lip.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"I think she fancies you too."

Harry became flustered, his skin glowing red. "Mum, I'm not going to ask her out."

"We'll see."

Living in a house besides their cottage in Godrics's Hollow was strange. Even more so since it was oddly, deafeningly quiet without James around. Harry's cries occasionally filled the house but not as often as his laughter. However, sometimes it seemed as though he was searching for something… for someone.

She'd find him standing against the railings of his crib, looking around in anticipation as if the someone he desired to see would magically pop up and surprise him.

It never happened.

Several times, she'd lie awake watching the moonlight cast shadows into her room. The bed felt too light without his weight pressing down the other side of the bed. Even though Voldemort was gone, she would wake up in the middle of the night with her heart hammering in her chest. She'd rush to Harry's nursery to find him sleeping peacefully.

Sirius had grown somber, dark humour resounding in his words. Remus sported dark circles and a hunched back like a large weight had settled upon his shoulders. Harry was blissfully oblivious for the most part. He hadn't lost hope, unlike them.

It took weeks for Lily to sleep through the night, months to not cry when she heard James's name and years to grow accustomed to never hearing his voice, save for in memories.

The party had died down, leaving only three.

Flower petals littered the floor and glasses remained on the tables. Silence felt good after hours of loud music and chattering guests. Lily sat with her head resting on Sirius's shoulder in the mostly empty lavender tent. Remus rubbed his tired eyes.

"Dumbledore gave Harry and Ginny socks and a snitch. I had recommended he give Harry a copy of one of James's detention reports."

Sirius snorted. He paused, growing tenser with every rise and fall of his chest.

"He should have been here…" Sirius started, resentfully. "I should not have been the one to walk with Harry. Lily," he inhaled deeply, "Lily shouldn't have had to cry alone through Ron's best man speech."

Lily laughed shakily, staring at the table listlessly, "It's not fair." Remus hummed in acquiescence, "I should not have had to give Harry memories of his father. He should've been allowed to make them with James. James should have been here for his son's wedding. An-and talking about him, it shouldn't hurt as much but it still does."

She shouldn't have been widowed for longer than she was married, she thought bitterly.

"The Weasleys would have loved him, y'know."

"Oh, Merlin, I can imagine James talking my ear off about rubber ducks," Sirius moaned.

"I don't know who'd rant and rave about Ginny more - the Quidditch nut or Harry?" Remus put in. He altered his voice to imitate James, "Lily, do you know what Ginny said today? She's so funny. Harry's got excellent taste. We should have them over for dinner and for Quidditch night!"

Lily chortled, following Remus's lead, "Our grandchildren are in good hands. Can you imagine how good-looking they will be? They'll have won the genetic lottery."

"The twins!" Sirius puffed up his chest, "Lily, I'm going to accompany Fred and George to their shop tomorrow. Hopefully, I can be their business partner one of these days. We could revolutionize the Wizarding World with better pranks than even dungbombs."

Lily watched him from the corner of her eye, "Lily, Ron's like Sirius. He's like a brother to Harry! The best Harry could have asked for."

Sirius's hair fell into his eyes elegantly. He smiled sadly.

None of them spoke for a while. Lily sobbed softly, wiping off her tears with the back of her hand.

"To James Potter," Remus raised his glass.

Sirius mirrored the gesture and Lily straightened, picking up her glass. Her features were sticky and her dress rumpled. She would have given anything to share this moment with James, instead she had spent all evening hearing guests congratulate her and mutter their condolences like they had during his funeral.

She touched the lightning-shaped scar on her forehead.

It was unfair.

Lily joined James in death several decades later when her hair was grey and her skin wrinkled. She was the last to go, after Sirius and Remus. She didn't see her life as a string of memories, flashing one after the other. She didn't despair or fear death. She didn't carry on any regrets.

She went in peace.