Sooo in the other story I'm working on, there's a bit of an unfriendly Potter-Evans family dynamic happening, and consequently I wanted to write something where the Potters like Lily. Fair warning, not much else happens. James himself does not show up.

There was a knock at the door, and Lily looked up from stove. She left the kitchen to answer it, shuffling a bit in James' oversize woollen socks. She sighted Alberta Potter through the small window and began to take down the first of the protective charms. The rhythm of the process had become routine to her in the nearly two months she had been living in the Potter's cottage at Godric's Hollow, and it wasn't long before she was able to greet James' mother and take her cloak.

Lily had barely turned away from the cloak rack when she found herself engulfed in a warm, rosewater scented hug. Lily closed her eyes for a moment. Her own parents had passed away several years ago, but this embrace felt distinctively motherly, and the simple affection had Lily blinking back some complicated emotion.

They broke apart, smiling. "Hello, dear." Mrs. Potter looked Lily up and down fondly. "You look lovely, as usual."

Lily laughed lightly. "Oh, I'm sure." After a particularly difficult day, she had changed into her most comfortable (not to mention shabbiest) jumper and softest pyjama bottoms. She had thrown her hair up in a loose knot, which incidentally showcased a half-healed mark like an angry burn on the side of her neck. "Well, won't you join me?" She led the way back to the kitchen, where something was close to boiling over. She hurried to the stove, absently turning the dial on the record player down to a soft murmur as she passed. It was not quite cold enough to justify lighting a fire, so Lily had lit candles on the table instead, and the flames shuddered as she bumped against its edge in her haste.

"I was just working on dinner. Do you mind if I keep going?"

"Absolutely not, don't mind me." Mrs. Potter took a seat at the small table. "That smells wonderful."

"You're welcome to stay – I've made plenty."

"Have you heard anything from James?"

"No, but I haven't expected to. If all goes well, they should get back midweek."

Mrs. Potter nodded. "It must make you antsy. Not really knowing what's happening."

"It does. I know it's for the best to keep the missions quiet, but considering of all the possibilities drives me mad if I think about it too much." Lily frowned, adding a bit more salt to a pot. "How is Gerald? Trying to bribe Mungo's to let him leave yet?"

She sighed. "He's as well as to be expected, and says hello." There was a pause. "Was there a reason you were making so much? Would I be in the way?"

"Oh, no, not at all. Someone or other ends up popping over most nights; it's just easier to prepare for it. Sirius and Peter practically know my schedule better than I do ever since they figured out I put in more effort on my days off-duty."

"Do you mind being treated like the community cook?"

Lily shrugged, scrutinizing the sauce. "I like cooking. It's rather like potion making, except you're allowed to make it taste good."

Mrs. Potter gave a small laugh.

"Anyway, it's – soothing. To put in the effort and care, and immediately be able to reap the benefits from it. Encouraging, I suppose, what with the way things are going at the moment."

Mrs. Potter nodded. "Would you mind if I opened a bottle of wine – I have reason to suspect the house stocks my favourite."

Lily looked mildly surprised. "Of course! You don't need to ask; it is your house after all."

Mrs. Potter hmmed and rose to get the wine from the small pantry. Bottle and glasses in hand, she paused for a moment to survey the scene.

The room smelled of cooking spices and candle wax, and the flickering candles reflected against the dark window panes. The curtains that were pulled back weren't the ones that Mrs. Potter remembered putting up herself – these were softer, their colour brighter. An heirloom teapot was still overturned by the sink to dry. Outside, the wind had picked up. Inside, the record that had been playing softly ended, and Lily wiped her hands before going to turn it over.

"It's nice to see how much of a home you've made here," Mrs. Potter said as she sat down once more at the table.

Lily looked up rather sharply. "Thank you. Don't worry, though, I'm not settling in too deeply. I should be able to start – "

"Don't misunderstand me; I'm not trying to hurry you out." She paused while she poured a glass for each of them. "That actually relates to why I'm here."

"Oh?" Lily examined the older woman's face. Finding a rather serious look there, she turned down the burners and sat down at the table.

Mrs. Potter took a considering sip of wine before smoothing her hands over the table. "Gerald and I have talked it over, and we're giving you this house."

"M-me? What?" Lily stared at her in bare shock. "You can't do that."

She raised a brow. "Of course we can." She summoned several pieces of parchment from her cloak where it hung in the entryway. "As a matter of fact, we already have." She passed the parchment over. "All that is required is your signature."

Lily's eyes numbly scanned the neat, narrow script without taking much in.

"Of course, technically, the house belongs only to Gerald under the terms of the Potter inheritance, so I didn't actually sign it, but don't think that means I disapprove."

"It's – this is – what I mean is – it's not necessary – you've both already done so much, and –"

"Stop right there," Mrs. Potter broke in sternly. "This is absolutely necessary. You do not know what it was like, hearing about the fiendfyre set at your home, thinking of you inside – you have no idea. It's been a comfort to have you here, to know you're safe. As a welcomed guest, the charms on the house help protect you. Once you become the owner, those protections will increase. Several wards will pass into your keeping, but I imagine you are capable of handling them easily."

Lily shook her head. "But – this is the oldest Potter property. It's been in the family for hundreds of years, to just – just give it away..."

"We know. Hang it. It was Gerald's idea. Initially, we discussed leaving it to you. However, that could cause some issues. Merlin willing, Gerald will pull through this and be around for years. We knew it would be a trial convincing you to stay much longer – you've been too worried about taking advantage. We finally decided, why wait? We want you to have it, so it might as well be now. Anyway, if we get it taken care of while we're both still alive, we can ensure it's not held up by any of those more narrow-minded sorts of people who would prefer it stay in the family."

Lily opened her mouth then shut it again without a word. She looked down at her hands as they ran a bit nervously over the edge of the table.

Mrs. Potter sighed. "In all honesty, I think for Gerald, this may be at least in part a gesture of apology."

Lily looked up again, surprised. "What on earth does he imagine he has to apologize for?"

She didn't answer right away, instead taking another mouthful of wine. "For his thoughts when James first brought home a Muggle-born girl. I think his private reaction was a bit of an unpleasant shock for him. He has always been a firm proponent for Muggle-born rights, but I don't think he ever considered the possibility that one might become a part of his own, pure-blood family." She shrugged. "A bit of an ethical oversight, left over from childhood. He's sorry about it – he adores you, you know – and I think this is his apology. His blessing, if you will."

Now Lily really didn't know what to say. This was reaching into entirely new territory. She hesitantly admitted, "I had thought – I had wondered at the time – if maybe you offered the use of the cottage to prevent me from moving in with James."

"No." Mrs. Potter shook her head firmly. "Although, in truth, it was a consideration – we didn't want you to feel trapped, as if you had to after losing everything and having nowhere else to go." She smiled slightly. "Besides – doesn't he more or less live here now as it is?"

"No. Well – not while I'm out on missions. Er – mostly." Lily twisted her mouth wryly, and irritated herself by blushing just a little.

Mrs. Potter's smile grew. "And to think about the way he used to moan about coming here as a child. He thought it frightfully boring." She laughed.

"What about James? I mean, it's his inheritance, isn't it?"

Mrs. Potter waved a hand dismissively. "Hang him. He doesn't need it. Of course, we recognise the possibility that it may revert back to the family anyway, but that certainly isn't a requirement. If James manages to muck things up with you, then he doesn't deserve it." She leaned forward and tapped a stern finger on the table. "I want it to be clear – this is not contingent on you seeing our son. You are not bound to him. For that matter, you won't be bound to the house. Sell it, paint it, knock it down – the house, and everything in it, is yours to do with as you please." She paused. "Except the vase by the staircase – it was a gift from my great aunt, and I'd like very much to have it back." She shook her head. "That's not important. What I'm trying to say is that you are our family, no matter how things stand between you and James." Mrs. Potter's eyes were soft. "We want you to know, to feel unquestionably certain, that you will never have nowhere to go. There is a place for you here."

Lily's throat felt tight. "That means a lot to me, you have to know – It's just –" she shook her head, overwhelmed. "It's just so much."

"Well, it's not too much. You lost everything in that fire. It means much more to us to know you're here and well than anything else we would do with this place." She made a vague, broad gesture. Seeing from the watery brightness of Lily's eyes that she would not respond, Mrs. Potter continued more briskly. "Anyway, you've made more of a home in two months than we've ever had here. I always wanted to be the type of woman to keep a small, cozy cottage. To – I don't know, keep a garden and bake bread and so forth." She paused. "Do you make your bread, by any chance?"

Lily nodded mutely.

She sighed resignedly. "It follows. It was never for me. Instead, the best I could do always felt like a disused guest house – well, we've essentially kept it as a disused guest house. You deserve this place, and it's better off with you. With you here, it feels like a home. That's a talent. You said it yourself – people just come by. You've made a home, which is to say, a sanctuary. People need that right now."

Lily didn't know how to respond. She noticed the untouched glass of wine intended for her, and gratefully reached for it for something to do before she thought better of it. Drinking, she imagined, made a pretty poor reply to kind words. She was uncertain how to properly show her gratitude for what she felt a little unequal to receiving. She turned the stem of the glass where it sat on the table, trying to find the words. Mrs. Potter was smiling, though, so perhaps she understood.

"It would ease our minds to think of you here. Please allow us to do this."

"Alright." Lily's heart tripped, but she swallowed and looked back down on the parchment. "Where do I sign?"

"Oh, goodness, not now!"

Eyes wide, Lily felt her stomach drop, uncertain and dismayed. Oh no, oh no oh no. Ought she have protested more?

"You need a witness. I suppose technically, I could witness, but it's probably best we get someone a tad more official."

"Oh." Lily couldn't help the surge of relief. She reached again for the wine, but was distracted by the acrid smell of smoke. She swore, and jumped up to turn the stove off completely before examining the damage. "Well, these potatoes are hopeless, but the rest seems alright." She sighed, and went to go get plates. "That was a bit foolish. It wouldn't do to burn this house down as well." She felt an unexpected but pleasant little thrill as she opened a cabinet. Her house.

"As I said," Mrs. Potter reached for her own glass, smiling, "it's yours to burn."

I'm not really sure what this is. I'd love to hear your thoughts! -Amy