But You Haven't Lost Me Yet

by DawnieS

AU. The war with Voldemort comes and goes, and James and Lily find themselves struggling to put the pieces of their broken lives back together.

But You Haven't Lost Me Yet

Summary: AU. The war with Voldemort comes and goes, and James and Lily find themselves struggling to put the pieces of their broken lives back together.

A/N: Lyrics at the beginning and ending of the story are from Yet by Switchfoot. Harry Potter and everything in it belong to JK Rowling, but all mistakes are mine.

---

All attempts have failed
All my heads are tails
She's got teary eyes
I've got reasons why

I'm losing ground and gaining speed
I've lost myself, or most of me
I'm headed for the final precipice
But you haven't lost me yet

Lily wakes, and the air is heavy with the scent of starch and antiseptic. Footsteps echo somewhere on a tile floor and dust motes dance suspended in rays of light. There are Muggle nurses all around her, and they bustle by in an efficient hurry, checking tubes and wires and pursing their lips in concern.

Her mind is hazy – none of this makes sense. She doesn't know where she is, doesn't know why she is in pain. Stitches spread across her skin, pulling sharply as she pushes herself up, and her chest throbs.

A doctor steps into the room with a clipboard in one hand, and smiles at her. The smile is tight, stretched thin across his face, but his eyes are warm.

"It's good to see you awake, Mrs. Potter," he says.

Potter. That isn't her name anymore, not legally. Everything is a jumbled mess, and her memories seem to flicker and fade. She remembers nothing of what happened, does not understand why she is here, but that, what they took from her – that she remembers.

And then she remembers something else.

"Where is my son?" she demands in sudden panic.

"Your son was very lucky," the doctor says, glancing down at his clipboard. "He has a scar on his forehead, but nothing more." He sets the clipboard down on the edge of the bed and studies her for a long moment. "You were lucky as well, though it may not seem like it. You have a concussion, several lacerations," he nods to the stitches that crisscross her arms and the bandage on her stomach, "and badly bruised ribs. Those are painful, but…" again, he smiles that tight, stretched smile, "much less severe than we originally suspected. A house did collapse on you, after all."

She nods, not really comprehending. "Where is Harry?" she asks again. "I want to see my son." She needs Harry, needs to see him right now. She struggles to swing her feet over the side of the bed and make her battered, broken body work again. But her legs won't obey her mental command, and the effort leaves her nearly breathless and doubled over in pain.

A nurse rushes to her side. "You can't go anywhere, Mrs. Potter," she murmurs apologetically, helping Lily to lay back against the pillows. "You need to rest – your body needs rest." She squeezes Lily's arm gently, just enough to convey her sympathy, and murmurs in a low and soothing voice, "But we're going to take care of you. And I can have your son brought to you."

She has red hair like Lily, and is plump with a ruddy complexion. She pats Lily on the hand while the doctor checks Lily's pulse and listens to her breathing and makes notes on his clipboard. The nurse's eyes are small, and her teeth are crooked, but when she smiles, there is a brightness to her face that contrasts with the severity of the doctor's expression.

It takes Lily a moment to catch her breath, and then she finally asks, "Where am I?"

"York Hospital," the doctor replies proudly, and when she frowns without recognition, he adds, "It's alright if you've never heard of us. We only opened a few years ago." He taps the machine that is attached to her arm, the one that emits a steady rhythm of soft beeps in the background, and practically crows, "Everything is state of the art."

"How… how did I get here?"

"Your neighbors brought you, Mrs. Potter." The doctor turns towards the door. "I am going to order a few more tests, and I would like to keep you for another day or two for observation, but I am confident you will make a full recovery."

He leaves, and the nurse straightens the blankets on Lily's hospital bed and says, "It's a pity that you have to be here now. It's been so beautiful today. Bright blue skies and sunshine." She gives Lily another warm smile and starts to prattle on, "The weatherman says it is unseasonably warm for the first day of November, and isn't that a surprise after all the rain and fog? I heard the last two years were the gloomiest weather we've ever had. Well, most of it was concentrated around London, as I am sure you know, but it was still quite gray all the way up here. Even in the summer."

"Blue sky?" Lily whispers, unsure what that means. London has barely had a glimpse of sunlight since Voldemort took over the Ministry and allowed the Dementors to wander about freely two years earlier, and while Northern England escaped some of that gloom, there still had been relatively little sun.

The nurse leaves before Lily can think of what to ask next.

She closes her eyes. She is alive, and Harry is alive, and there are blue skies, and that must mean something.

"Lily," a voice says.

She starts, and shrinks back into the bed, staring in horror at the person before her. Messy black hair stands up at all ends, and hazel eyes stare at her from behind a pair of broken glasses. His gaze fixes on her as though memorize every line on her face, and he holds her son – her son – in his arms.

Fury blossoms in her chest.

She needs James – needs him now more than she thinks she ever has, even during those initial months of separation when she was still a prisoner of the Death Eaters. But he is gone – dead – and it hurts because his memory has never truly left her alone. It haunts her, always. She can feel his windswept hair tickling against her forehead as he kisses her for the first time in the Three Broomsticks, can hear the sound of his laughter as he stumbles drunkenly towards her on their wedding night.

James is dead, and this – this is the worst thing that Voldemort can do to her.

Harry reaches his arms towards her, unaware of the sudden tension in the room, unaware that his mother wants to murder the man holding him.

"Mama," he says, grinning, and the man-who-is-not-James looks down at him in surprise.

"Give me my son," Lily growls, her voice low and cold. "So help me, Death Eater, give me my son this minute or by Merlin and God I will tear you apart."

Harry freezes, unused to hearing his mother's voice sound so vicious, and the man takes a step towards her.

"Lily, it's me," he says in James' voice. "It's me. James, it's James."

"No," she shakes her head. "No…" The words are half-sobs, half-shouts, because she so desperately wants this to be true but it isn't. James is dead. James has been dead for months, and she is alone. "No!" she repeats, almost screaming. "Don't touch my son!"

Harry starts to wail.

The man glances behind him, towards the door, and she sees the worry in his eyes. He's afraid that her screaming will cause the nurses to come running, will slow his ability to take her out of here, to return her to the other Death Eaters, to Voldemort.

She curls her lips into a snarl.

She knows she is acting half-crazed, like a trapped animal. The not-James holds one hand out in front of him, a sign of surrender, and approaches with slow steps. He extends his other arm, handing Harry to her. She can see pity in his eyes, and wants to lash out, wants to hurt him.

She snatches her son away from him.

Harry gives Lily a chubby-cheeked smile, and Lily crushes him in an embrace. She hugs him tightly, tears burning in her eyes, and whispers frantically, "I love you, Harry. I love you, I love you."

But she never takes her gaze off the man before her.

Maybe she is going crazy. Maybe she already is crazy. Maybe she has been crazy since the moment she saw Voldemort standing in her house. All she knows is that, crazy or not, she will not allow anyone to lay a hand on her son.

Lily shifts his weight to her hip and abruptly lashes out with her free hand, her fingernails connecting with the man's arm, drawing blood. He cries out in surprise, and Lily uses the opportunity to stumble out of the bed and attempt to flee.

Her legs can barely support her weight and the pain in her chest makes it hard to breathe and she wants to scream out in agony, and yet somehow she holds Harry tightly and stumbles on unsteady steps towards the door.

But she is injured and the not-James is too fast. He grabs her, pulls her towards him, away from the door. She claws at his exposed skin with the fingernails of one hand while still holding a now screaming Harry, and hears the sounds of footsteps running down the hallway outside the room.

The not-James spin around and fires off a spell, and the door to the hospital room slams shut and locks.

"Lily. Lily, it's me." A hand grips her chin, forcing her head up, forcing her to meet her captor's gaze.

"No," she spits out the word. "No. James is dead. Sirius told me."

His expression crumbles for just a moment, some hidden pain in his eyes, and he says, "Sirius was wrong. I was in Azkaben, not dead. I don't know why he told you that, I don't know…" He trails off, looking confused, but she doesn't bother believing it. James is dead, and the man standing before her is not her husband.

She struggles out of his grip, and he lets her go, but she can barely keep herself upright, and she collapses back onto the hospital bed, still clutching Harry to her chest.

Outside the magically locked door, she hears several nurses calling her name.

"It's me," the man begs, and when she scoffs in disbelief, he adds, "Fifth year, you said you'd rather date the giant squid than me."

Her lips curl into a sneer. "Everyone at Hogwarts heard that fight," she counters. "I don't care what kind of trick this is – I won't give you my son."

"Seventh year, the first time we kissed. You were nervous – you didn't want Marlene to know because she fancied me, but she hadn't told anyone ever. Anyone but you."

Lily hesitates, torn, but then shakes her head in anger. Marlene was murdered, and they tortured her before they finally finished the deed. Who knows what secrets they could have pried from her mind?

Or maybe James told them – maybe he was the one who was tortured?

The thought brings tears to her eyes and she blinks, stifling a sob.

The man lifts his wand, and she flinches backwards, once again acutely aware that she in unarmed against him. But he does not point the wand at her. Instead, he murmurs a spell and flicks his wrist and she watches, wide-eyed and silent, as a stag patronus burst from his wand.

"Lily," he says softly, emphatically, "it's me."

She slides from the bed and falls to her knees.

James kneels in front of her, and when he reaches out to rest his hands on her shoulders, she does not pull away. Harry stops crying and stares up at her with a bewildered gaze, and James traces a finger over the scar just above her chin and drinks in the sight of her, as though afraid she will disappear if he even blinks.

"But… but Sirius said…" she whispers. Blankness fills her mind. None of this makes sense. "H-how?"

"I escaped," is his simple, incomplete answer.

---

The door creaks open.

In the hallway outside, James can hear the sound of chaos. Shouts, and footsteps echoing on the stone floor. A crash as something collides against a wall, a cry of alarm. Whatever is happening beyond the confines of this prison is seeping into the building itself, spreading its discord. The air is charged with tension and apprehension, and the occasional flash of light and scream of shock or pain makes James wonder if his end is near.

He stumbles to his feet, weak and exhausted, expecting to find Duane Mulciber or some other Death Eater standing outside his cell, laughing at him.

It's Peter.

This separation from Lily, this imprisonment among his enemies, has ripped away everything in him, leaving him empty and almost resigned. Only his determination to protect Lily and their son kept him going, and he cannot bring himself to care about the rest of the world.

But he sees Peter, and everything changes.

Before he can even think, he has Peter pinned against the stone wall. He is trembling in rage, teeth bared like an animal, ready to strangle his one-time friend.

The traitor.

Peter starts to gasp and stutter, words coming out in sharp, incoherent bursts. His eyes show terror, and James feels vindication at this, because he wants Peter to know that he is a dead man, that his end has come and James is going to be the one to deliver it. He saved Peter's life once, though it was for Sirius' sake that he had done so, but he is beyond caring now. Right and wrong have bled together, and he no longer sees this as murder.

Justice. This is justice.

Then Peter chokes out Lily's name.

James drops him and steps backwards.

"What did you say?" he growls, his voice hoarse from lack of use.

Peter, crumpled in a heap on the floor, looks up at James with fear in his eyes, and whispers, "He attacked her."

"Who?" James demands, crouching in front of Peter. "Who did it? Who attacked her?" Peter whimpers and does not reply, and James hisses, "Answer me!"

Peter doesn't look at James. His movements are uneven and twitchy. Rat-like. "I didn't want… I never meant for this to…" He trails off.

"Lily, is she alright?" James asks desperately. When there is no answer, he grabs Peter by the shoulders and shakes him. The smaller man's head snaps back and forth, and he finally looks at James with wide eyes.

Peter probably has a wand. James does not. And for the last two years, Peter has been the one with the power and James has found himself constantly at the mercy of a madman and his band of violent and soulless followers. But none of that matters now. Something has changed. Peter is no longer the one in power. There has been a shift, and James doesn't understand it, doesn't know what has happened, but the dynamic has changed and Peter cowers before him, once more nothing more than a tag-along coward.

James shoves him roughly into the wall. "Where is Lily?" he snarls.

"I don't know!" Peter tries to scurry backwards, but the wall is at his back and there is nowhere he can go to escape the venom in James' gaze. "He's gone," he whispers. "The Dark Lord. He's gone. No one knows what happened, no one understands, but he's gone, and its all chaos and…" He glances over his shoulder, towards the hallway outside the cell. "They're killing the prisoners."

James stands on unsteady feet and tries to process this. Voldemort is gone and his Death Eaters are in disarray. They are turning on each other and on their prisoners, destroying everything they have built, and Peter…

James blinks, and realizes that Peter is holding a wand.

His wand. A peace-offering, maybe. He's giving James back his wand.

James takes the wand and smiles grimly, dangerously. "No one to protect you anymore, Petey," he says, his words mocking, cold. "Is that why you're here? Voldemort's gone," he takes pleasure in the way Peter flinches as the madman's name, "and you think you can come running back?" He laughs, harsh and dark. "Do you think it's going to be like Hogwarts again? We'll take you in, let you join?"

Peter is curled up on the floor, and James has spent countless nights dreaming about this moment, about the day when he will finally be able to make Peter pay for his crimes. For his betrayal. For everything that has happened to all of them – to Lily.

He advances slowly.

Peter whimpers. "No, please… I never meant… I only want to fix things… Please, Prongs…"

"Don't call me that!" James thunders. "Don't you dare call me that! You've lost the right." He points the wand at Peter, bitterness coursing through his veins like a poison. He has never cast the Cruciatus Curse before; he wonders what it will feel like to use an Unforgiveable. The curse forms on his lips, and the magic builds in his body, and he is ready – but…

"Is Lily alive?" he asks.

"I think so," Peter whispers.

Outside the door, he hears footsteps coming closer, shouts getting louder. They're killing the prisoners, and he has to get out before it's too late. He has to get out and he has to find Lily. Find Lily and find his son and get them all somewhere safe.

He looks at Peter and hesitates.

A moment later, a rat scuttles away, disappearing into a hole in the wall.

---

She doesn't know how they get out of the hospital. James does something, talks to someone, and she finds herself safely ensconced in the back of a beat-up Buick. She clutches Harry and watches in numb silence as James fiddles with the keys to start the engine.

She wants to ask how he knows how to drive a car – he's never done so before, and learning how to use Muggle artifacts was never a strong point of his. Even Sirius wouldn't let him drive his motorcycle because he was just so bad at it.

She blinks.

She's not going to think about Sirius.

"I'm sorry – I don't have one of those, um… those… child seat things for… for your…our son," James says, his voice low and unsure. Now that they are out of the hospital, he seems uneasy, and she catches him sending long looks at Harry.

He's never met his son.

Lily can't look at James. She turns her head to the window and murmurs, "That's fine."

James drives – and he is still bad at it. He swerves all over the road, and when they finally leave the city and head onto the dirt paths that line the countryside, he hits every bump and every pothole. He doesn't seem to notice, though, and Lily is too exhausted to comment on it.

She doesn't understand why they are taking a car instead of Apparating or using a portkey.

She doesn't know where they are going, doesn't know why James is suddenly free.

The air in the car is thick with tension – this is the man she loves more than life itself, but they haven't seen each other in nearly two years and she doesn't know what to say to him. He is different – harder and more serious, and there are sharp edges to his face. There is a distance separating them, a gulf that she can't cross.

She doesn't even know how to try.

She sinks further into the silence, but James is the opposite – has always been the opposite – and he seeks to break the tension by talking.

"He's gone. Voldemort – he's gone."

Lily closes her eyes. "How?"

She watches James shake his head out of the corner of her eye, and he swallows hard. "I don't know. I was hoping you could tell me."

But Lily has no idea what to say, and the silence lingers once more; and once more, James strives to break it.

"I got out of Azkaban. With Voldemort gone, the Death Eaters were killing everyone, but I… escaped." There's more to the story there, Lily can hear that he is omitting details, but James rushes on, words colliding with each other as he struggles to move past whatever memory is haunting him. "I didn't know where you were, didn't even know how to find you – or anyone. I thought about going to Hogwarts, but everything seemed to be in such disarray, even the Muggles were noticing it, and…" He stops for a moment, catching his breath, and turns the car onto a small dirt path that leads to a distant cottage. "But I heard rumors of an explosion, a house being destroyed, and Pe-" again, he stops, chokes on the name, and shakes his head. "I knew Voldemort was after you, and so I went to the house and it was gone, destroyed, but the neighbors said they had taken you and… and Ha-Harry… to a hospital and I…" He chews his lip, parks the car, then turns to face her with an earnest expression. "I came to find you. Before anyone else could."

Lily stares at the cottage. It is small, but well-kept, complete with a white picket fence and neatly trimmed hedges, and it reminds her so much of Petunia that she actually looks around for her sister for a moment before she can push away that absurd thought.

James touches her on the elbow and she jerks in an automatic response, clutching Harry tightly as another wave of fear rushes through her.

"Sorry," James says, pain written on his features. And there is frustration in his eyes as well, and she knows that she is not the only one who feels the distance.

She chews her lower lip and asks, "Where are we?"

"A place my father bought a long time ago, before the war," James replies. He glances at the cottage for a moment before opening the door to the car and climbing out into the cool air. "He paid for it through Muggle banks so it's not… There's no record in the Ministry that we own it. They won't think to look for us here. It's safe – safe enough, until we can figure out what happened."

Lily reaches for the handle of her door but Harry's weight restricts her movements. For a moment, the panic swells inside her – she's trapped, unable to move. It's absurd, but knowing that doesn't make the fear lessen any, and terror beats out a steady rhythm in her chest.

James opens her door. She should hand him Harry, but she doesn't, and he doesn't reach for his son.

She lumbers out of the car.

He touches her again, lightly, and this time she lets him. His hands rest on her arm and her back as he guides her towards the cottage.

He continues to talk, to fill the silence when all she wants is to retreat into the quiet of her own mind.

"When I was trying to find you, I heard rumors, and I even stopped by the Ministry for a moment – not long, though, and I made sure I wasn't seen, but I needed to know how bad it was, and… the whole place is in chaos. It's… I can't even… Most of the old Aurors are back, the ones that quit when Voldemort took over, but that might just be making things worse. Merlin, there were duels in the Ministry itself. It's why I didn't have you transferred to St. Mungo's. Everything Voldemort built is crumbling quickly, but that's just leading to more violence. I don't know who is in charge – don't know if anyone is in charge."

He releases her long enough to open the door to the cottage with a small silver key from his pocket. She steps inside and takes it all in.

They stand for a moment in the parlor. It is warm, welcoming. Inviting. She can see Mrs. Potter's touch everywhere – in the faded blue and lavender print on the sofa, in the dark blue vase positioned on the three-legged table by the door, in the plush grey rug that has seen just a bit too much use to still be in good condition.

A thin layer of dust covers everything – three years worth of not cleaning.

Mrs. Potter has been dead for three years.

Lily swallows.

"I know it isn't much – not like my parents' old home-" and James' voice catches again, indication of another story, another memory he doesn't want. She wonders what all he isn't telling her… but then, she isn't really telling him anything, either.

"It's nice," she says, and lowers Harry to the ground. The boy immediately crawls away from her, intent on exploring his new surroundings, and she almost reaches out to stop him.

James must see the fear in her eyes because he says, "He's safe here, Lily. We are safe here."

Lily glances at James and then turns away.

She doesn't believe in safe anymore.

Her fingers curl reflexively as though to wrap around a wand she no longer has. She sighs, feeling its absence. It must have been lost in the debris when her home collapsed. Even if it survived intact, the Muggles who brought her to the hospital would not have known what it was, would not have seen any reason to bring along a stick of wood.

She flattens her fingers against the cloth of her trousers and tries not to look at James.

More silence.

"I'm going to get us settled and… there's a town nearby, Lily, and I can get us some food and other things," James says. "And once we've got what need here, I'll go to Hogwarts. I figure that's the best place to find out what happened, find out if the Order is still…" He stops, rearranges his words, "Find out who is left from the Order. Dumbledore will know."

Lily nods.

"We'll figure this out," James says almost desperately. "We'll figure everything out, Lils."

The nickname rolls of his tongue carelessly, and it shouldn't bother her, but it does. No one has called her Lils in two years, and she stiffens.

James pretends not to notice.

"It will be good to… to see people again," James continues. "I didn't see anyone in Azkaban – or before that. Except…" He stops, biting off the word with a sudden coldness, a definite edge. His eyes darken and it takes him a moment to bring his emotions back under control. Then he says, "It'll be alright."

Lily doesn't answer.

"It'll be alright," he repeats, and she wonders who he is trying to convince – her or himself? He gives a wry smile, and for a moment she sees the same boyish look he wore at Hogwarts and during the beginning of the war, before everything went to hell, and he says, "You're my wife, after all."

She gives him a bitter smile of her own and points out bluntly, "Not anymore. Not for the last two years."

---

"You can't take her away from me! She's my wife!"

He screams the words and throws himself at Lily, desperate to reach her, to pull her into his arms and never let go. Two men close in on him – Mulciber and Avery – clapping their hands tightly on his shoulders and dragging him roughly backwards across the stone floor. Away from Lily.

He is vaguely aware of Abraxas Malfoy's cold chuckle of amusement, and then Cygnus Black says in his deep, gravelly voice, "Your marriage has been invalidated, Potter. It violates the Pureblood Marriage Act."

"I don't care. Let me go, you bastard!" he demands. His wand has long since been confiscated, but he fights with flailing fists and knees, scratching and biting in a hopeless bid to win his freedom. He can't let them take Lily away from him. She is his, and he is hers, and she is–

Pregnant.

He can't even bring himself to think about that. She's only two months along, and she only told him a week ago. And they were scared, but tentatively hopeful, thinking of the future they could have, and now…

Helpless, he watches as Lily is pushed forward, propelled towards the door of the courtroom.

"No," he says. The words come louder, panicked and frenzied, tearing their way out of his throat. "No, Lily! No!"

She twists her head around and looks back, green eyes catching his gaze for just one moment, and he sees her mouth the words I love you.

"I love you, too!" he shouts in response. He can't save her and he can't save their child, but he can at least give her this. "I've always loved you. I always will, Lily! Always!"

"Don't worry, Potter," a voice coos, and he recognizes Bellatrix Lestrange. James doesn't look at her, won't look at her. This is one of the few witches who actually scares him, this is one of their enemies that Lily has always believed is really, truly insane. Bellatrix Lestrange laughs softly, and says, "We'll find you a more suitable wife soon enough. One that will make you forget all about your Mudblood."

"Never," he snarls.

But all he can do is struggle in vain, and in the end he watches as Lily is shoved out of the room. The heavy stone door slams closed behind her, separating them.

He doesn't see her again for nearly two years.

---

Lily paces across the kitchen's tile floor and stares at the window. The glass is smudged in places, and a thin layers of dust has settled along the sill. She reaches reflexively for the wand she does not have, and stops as her fingers touch an empty pocket.

"Mama. Ma. Ma. Mama. Da?"

Harry bangs a block on the floor and smiles as he babbles, oblivious to the way her life is crumbling around her. She doesn't understand this, because she is free and James is here and she should be happy, but she's not.

She looks around for a rag, and finds one tucked into a drawer next to the sink. It would be so easy to clean with magic, but it's been two days and she still has no wand, so she runs the rag over the windowsill, picking up dust the Muggle way.

Through the glass, she sees James park the car in the driveway and climb out. He looks weary, and wears a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

She meets him at the door, Harry in her arms.

"I saw Remus," James says without preamble, and Lily feels her heart skip a beat because they hadn't known if Remus was alive, and…

"How is he?" she asks tentatively.

James shrugs. "As well as could be expected, I suppose," he answers vaguely. He gives Harry a smile and pats him on the head, but he doesn't take him from Lily. It's been two days since the hospital, and James won't hold Harry. Lily knows this should concern her, but she doesn't know what James' issue is, doesn't know how to fix it.

"Da," Harry says. He still doesn't really understand who James is, but he is only a year old, and is able to adjust easily enough to the strange changes in his life.

"How are things out there?" Lily asks quietly, not sure if she really wants to know the answer.

James shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair as he walks further into the house, Lily following behind him.

"Abraxas Malfoy is dead, and Lucius is claiming that they were never Death Eaters – that their family was under the Imperius Curse. I don't know if people believe him – but they'll pretend to, at any rate. You know how influential the Malfoys are. Lucius wants to take over as Minister now that Rookwood has been removed. He's in Azkaban, by the way – Rookwood, I mean – but there are still too many Voldemort supporters in the upper echelons of the Ministry to assure us that Azkaban is safe…" He gives her a tired, sardonic smile. "Of course, Crouch is also aiming for Minister, and we know he's not a Death Eater, but I don't want him in that position, either. He wants to bypass the regular Wizengamot procedure and just send people accused of being Death Eaters to Azkaban."

Lily frowns. "Didn't Voldemort kill most of the people on the Wizengamot?" she asks, setting Harry down on the floor. Most of them were killed over two years ago, before her capture. Around the time the Rookwood became Minister.

James nods. They are silent for a moment, each reflecting on the state of the world, then he says tiredly, "It's chaos." That is the way he has continually described the situation, but Lily supposes that if the two top choices for Minister are Lucius Malfoy and Barty Crouch, chaos is a good description.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wand.

"I went to Diagon Alley, but Ollivanders is closed. They said he left when Voldemort was in power, and no one knows where he is – if he's even alive. But Remus had this old wand. It… um…" he swallows, uncomfortable and unsure, "it belonged to… to Marlene…"

Lily reaches to take it, but freezes at Marlene's name. She stares at the wand, remembering Marlene, remembering their days at Hogwarts, and a lump forms in her throat. It feels wrong, taking her murdered best friend's wand.

But she needs it, needs a way to protect herself just in case.

So she takes the wand, fingers wrapping around the smooth wood, and tries to ignore how morbid it all seems.

"Remus says he'll stop by later. He's going to Hogwarts to talk to Dumbledore. It's the only place still standing, still…" James pauses, looking for the right words, then finally sighs and says, "Well, Voldemort never got his hands on it." He gives her an appraising look. "I'm going to go later, so… do you want to come?"

Lily glances down at Harry. She doesn't want to take him out into the world yet.

"He'll be fine, Lily," James rushes to reassure her, "and it will be good for him to see Hogwarts. He's going there someday, you know."

"He's one," Lily counters, rolling her eyes.

James grins. "Oh, come on, Lils," he says, and again ignores the way she flinches at the nickname. "It's never too early to…"

"Voldemort was after him," Lily interrupts abruptly, the truth spilling out of her lips before she can stop herself. "Harry, not me."

A pause.

"What?"

"There was a prophecy. That's why he came to attack. I don't – I don't know if anyone else knows about it. The prophecy, I mean. I don't know if anyone else knows, and I…" she shrugs helplessly. "I don't want…" She stops, unable to finish the thought.

James stares at her, shock and betrayal in his gaze. "Why didn't tell me?" he demands.

She doesn't have an answer to that. She shakes her head, says nothing.

"What was the prophecy?"

"I don't know," Lily mutters, refusing to meet James' piercing gaze.

"Lily!" James protests through clenched teeth.

"I don't know!" she snaps angrily, temper flaring. "I don't! I didn't even know about it until Voldemort showed up in my house and tried to kill Harry!"

"We need to talk to Dumbledore about this," James says urgently. "If anyone knows, or at least can figure it out, it will be him."

"We can't just… no. I'm not parading my son around as some sort of… of…"

"Of what?" James growls.

"Voldemort tried to kill Harry, but the curse didn't work," Lily growls, frustrated that James isn't listening, that he doesn't understand. "Harry survived a killing curse! I'm not – I don't want people to know that. I don't want Harry to be some sort of… of…" Again, she can't figure out what she is trying to say, but she knows the questions that will be asked, and she doesn't want that.

She doesn't want to make her son any more of a target than he already is.

Harry starts to sniffle, looking between his parents. James and Lily haven't yelled at each other at all in the past two days, and he isn't used to it.

But for the first time Lily feels like this is normal because this – this yelling, this flared tempers and anger – this is how they talked at Hogwarts, and during the beginning of the war, before…

Before.

James shoves his hands into the pockets of his trousers and looks away. "We can't just ignore this, Lils," he says irately. "Merlin, you always do this. You don't want to face something, and you just ignore it."

"And you don't think through things, you just talk and talk and talk like you can fix everything with pointless words!" Lily retorts defensively. "Think about this, James! Think about what this will mean for Harry. I'm not overreacting by wanting to protect him."

James sucks in a breath, holds it, and Lily knows he is trying to stay calm.

"I know how you feel…" he starts, but Lily cuts him off with a cold laugh.

"No," she says, snarls, "you don't. You weren't there."

Harry shifts on the floor, his eyes watery and lower lip trembling. Lily doesn't want to argue in front of him, but there is something molten hot churning in her gut and she can't quite stop the words from coming out.

"I know you think you understand how I feel about this, but you don't. You weren't there when Voldemort came, you didn't see what he did, you didn't watch him point his wand at our son."

Guilt flashes through James eyes and he chokes out, "I know. I know I wasn't there, I know I let you down. I know it was my fault, and I should have protected you better."

Lily falters, and her anger abates at the look of shame in his eyes. "That's not… that's not what I meant," she counters softly. "It wasn't your fault. None of it."

James' lips twist into a cold smirk and he says in an ugly tone, "But it was my fault. Everything that happened to you, every time they hurt you, it was my fault."

She furrows her brow. "What do you mean?"

James doesn't answer, and she realizes that he never meant to tell her that. Whatever this guilt is, it is eating away at him, and she wants to reach out to him, wants to tell him that everything will be alright.

But she doesn't know how. The anger in his eyes, the hardness in his words, the way he looks at her now… it's all different. He is different. The war has changed him, and he may be James – her James – but she doesn't recognize him anymore.

"It's nothing," he says, lies.

She rubs her eyes and wishes that she knew more about the prophecy.

"Voldemort was afraid," Lily whispers finally. "This prophecy – it frightened him enough to make him hunt down a child. Whatever it is… I don't want people to know. I don't want it hanging over Harry."

"But we have to know. How can we protect him if we don't?" James counters.

And Lily can't stop the flash of worry that maybe they can't protect Harry.

---

Red eyes stare at him.

He clenches his hands into fists at his side and imagines all the ways he wants to hurt the man before him.

Voldemort laughs. His gaze never leaves James' face as he walks – glides – forward, but thin lips curl upwards in amusement, and James knows that Voldemort is looking into his mind, sifting through his thoughts.

"Gryffindors always were so inept at anything requiring subtlety," Voldemort muses, circling James, "even when I was at Hogwars. I see nothing has changed."

James pictures Voldemort's death, and the madman finds it funny. That only serves to enrage James even more.

"I want my wife," he spits, ignoring the smarter instincts that tell him not to anger the man who is currently deciding his fate. But he will not give in, he will not simply roll over and let Voldemort and his Death Eaters take away everything that he holds dear. He hisses the words, refusing to look away from those red eyes, "I want Lily – now."

"You are in no position to demand anything, Potter," Voldemort replies lazily.

The Death Eaters gathered around them shift in anticipation. James knows that they are all expecting Voldemort to torture him or kill him – or both. He is standing alone and unprotected, with no wand and no allies, and yet still defiant. There is no way this will end well for him.

Voldemort continues to stare at him, unblinking. "You will give in, Potter. Or you will die."

James shakes his head. "I won't join you," he says. "Not ever."

Voldemort raises his arm causally, his wand held in long fingers, and though he says the spell aloud, James does not hear it.

He feels it.

Pain rips through his body, and he falls to his hands and knees.

Once, when he'd been younger and stupid, he'd actually believed that he would be able to withstand the Cruciatus curse without screaming. Once, he'd thought he was strong enough to do what no one else had ever done, to survive this torture stoically, without giving Voldemort the pleasure of hearing how much it hurt.

Now, he screams until his throat is raw. And then he keeps screaming.

And Voldemort laughs again.

Still amused.

Stars dance before his eyes. It is hard to breathe, and harder still to move. He can't see straight, can barely think. The pain is gone, but the echoes of his screams remain, lingering in his mind.

"Lily," James says, forcing out the name through gritted teeth. "I want Lily."

Voldemort turns away from him, bored with James' continued defiance. "You're wasting your breath, Potter," he replies. "She is a Mudblood who dared to marry a pureblood and then defied the Ministry sanctioned laws by joining Dumbledore's unlawful Order of the Phoenix and fighting me. There is only one punishment for such actions." He spares James an indifferent glance. "She'll die."

"No!" James tries to shout, but his voice is too hoarse and it comes out as nothing more than a whimper.

Voldemort says nothing. He does not care about Lily – she is nothing to him, nothing but vermin and trash and filth. A waste of magic.

James sees all this in Voldemort's inhuman red eyes and for the first time since the Death Eaters brought him here, he feels true panic.

"My lord, if I may…?" a voice says, silky and familiar.

Voldemort glances at the Death Eater who has spoken. He nods slowly, perhaps amused enough by James' continued hopeless defiance to allow this young Death Eater some leeway.

"Speak, Severus," he hisses.

Snape steps forward. His face is hidden behind a mask, but his black eyes show through, mocking, tormenting. In a tone of deference, he suggests "Would it be wise to keep the Mudblood alive instead? As an incentive to… convince… Potter to do what you ask of him? Collateral, if you will?"

Voldemort considers this, then smiles cruelly. "Yes, Severus," he says, amused again. "Yes, I believe that would be wise." Red eyes fix on James. "Think carefully about your actions, Potter. You may be willing to accept the consequences of defiance, but will your precious Mudblood?"

James inhales sharply, unsure if he should thank or curse Snape. Everything he does will come back to Lily now – his every refusal, his every disobedience will be her burden to bear. How can he fight this fight when it will cost her so dearly? And yet how can he not fight when his other option is to support Voldemort? There is no right choice here – no answer that will save them both.

But at least Lily is alive – for now.

---

James has been skirting around her ever since their argument – or maybe since before that, since the hospital, since their reunion – but Remus doesn't. He walks in the door of the cottage, his tired, haunted gaze sweeping over everything, and then he crosses to Lily and wraps her in a fierce hug that takes her breath away.

"Hi, Remus," she says.

She pulls back and looks at him. A long scar runs down the side of his face, from his forehead to his chin, and he is so thin that his skin practically hangs off his bones. She hasn't seen him in two years, and like James he is different, so much… older.

But he smiles, and she smiles back.

"And this must be Harry," Remus says, looking past Lily.

Harry sits in the center of the small parlor, holding a stuffed dog in his hands and gazing up at Remus with wide eyes.

Remus crouches down. "Hi, Harry," he says. "I'm Remus."

Harry gazes at him solemnly.

"Uncle Remus," James corrects. "That's your Uncle Remus, Harry."

James' eyes linger longer than they should on the stuffed dog. Lily doesn't know exactly where it came from, only that James has been buying presents for Harry constantly for the past four days, ever since the hospital. He showers his son with everything he possibly can, and yet…

He still struggles to hold Harry, to hug him.

"Wem," Harry says. He pauses for a moment, frowning in concentration. "Wem…us. Wemus."

"He just… he said my name," Remus stammers in total shock, and stands up. He looks at James, and then at Lily, and then back to Harry.

"He's a smart boy," James answers, a hint of pride creeping into his voice. He gives Lily a faint smile. "He inherited his mother's intelligence."

Remus nods, and Lily studies him. She's seen almost no one in two years – besides Death Eaters, of course – and she notes now the bruises on Remus' neck and throat that peak out over the collar of his robes and the dark shadows underneath his eyes.

He looks… beaten.

Does she look that way, too?

She pushes away the thought and clears her throat. To Remus, she asks, "Have you seen anyone since Voldemort… died? The others, I mean? Alice? Mary?"

Remus sucks in a sharp breath and she can see in his eyes that he is about to deliver bad news. She doesn't want to hear it, but fights the urge to bolt from the room because she has to know. She's been so cut off from everything – and she is still cut off.

Maybe James is right. Maybe she should go to Hogwarts.

"Mary died over a year ago," Remus says softly, apologetically. "I'm sorry, Lily. I thought someone would have told you."

Lily shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes. "I didn't… no, no one told me. I didn't know." She doesn't want to cry, doesn't want to shed more tears – doesn't want to feel.

"Alice is alive," Remus says hurriedly, as though he can exchange one life for another, cheer her up with news of a non-dead friend. "I know she'll want to see you."

"Yes," Lily says numbly.

"And… you know about… about Marlene…?" Remus ventures, watching her carefully. "James told you? I gave him her wand."

She curls her hands into fists, digging her nails into her palms. "Yes," she answers stiffly, forcing the words out through cracked lips. "I knew before that. Sirius told me."

James turns and walks out of the room.

Lily leans back against the wall and lets out a long, slow breath. James footsteps recede, and the sudden tension threatens to suffocate her. How much longer can this go on?

Remus places his hand on her arm.

"It's like I don't even know him anymore," she bursts out, the frustration and fury simmering beneath the surface. "He's my husband, and yet when I look at him, all I see is a stranger."

"The war…"

"I know," Lily interrupts, biting off the words. "I know." She sags heavily under the weight of it all. "But I don't know how to talk to him, Remus," she says. A pause, a hesitation, then she admits, "I don't even know if I want to."

"Sirius is a difficult subject for him," Remus replies mildly.

Lily answers with a cold laugh. She wipes at her eyes and pushes herself off the wall. "He won't talk about Sirius. He won't talk about Peter. He wants to talk, to always talk, but not about the things that matter. I tried to ask him about what happened to him, but he won't talk about that, either."

"And you don't want to talk at all," Remus says. Lily shoots him a surprised look, and he gives her a wan smile. "That's how it was at Hogwarts, too. Don't you remember? You two would end up screaming at each other because James talked too much and you didn't talk enough and neither of you could bring yourselves to say the things that mattered."

Lily scowls. "It wasn't like that." Remus just gives her an amused smile, and she says, "It wasn't. And I talk. I do."

"Have you told him about what happened to you?" Remus questions reasonably.

Lily shrugs half-heartedly, knowing she's beaten. "He hasn't asked," she offers as an excuse.

Remus opens his mouth to say something, and then stops. He gives her an uncertain look, worried about overstepping some invisible line, and then asks, "If Marlene or Mary were here, what do you think they'd say?"

Lily immediately turns away.

There is a long, strained silence, then Remus says with a sigh, "Neither of you have changed as much as you think you have."

"Then why does it feel like it?" Lily demands, whirling on him.

Remus doesn't have an answer to that.

Lily chews her lip, convulsively twisting the hem of her jumper. Finally, she mutters resentfully, "It's not like he doesn't already know most of what happened to me. Sirius told me that I was being kept prisoner in order to keep James in line." She rubs her eyes, remembering. "He was so angry when he said it – like it was my fault that this was happening."

Remus pulls her into an impulsive hug.

"They kept me at the Lestrange's manor," Lily says into his shoulder. "I thought I would go to Azkaban, but I never did. I thought I would be killed, but I wasn't. And then… and then Sirius came…"

Remus presses a kiss to her forehead. "It was… painful," he says slowly, searching for the right words, "when James was… was under house arrest. Sirius managed to sneak in, to talk to him a couple times, but… they fought. It turned really…" He sighs and drops his arms, stepping away from her. "It was hard on both of them," he finishes quietly.

Lily knows there is more he isn't saying.

---

There is a dog sitting in his bedroom.

It is the first thing James' notices when he wakes, and it takes him a moment to process. But when he does – when the realization sets in with horrifying clarity – he springs to his feet. "Are you mad?" he spits, eyes darting between the dog and the door, expecting an eminent attack. "Don't you know I'm being watched?"

The dog tilts his head to the side, regarding James curiously, and then a moment later Sirius is standing there. "And all anyone saw was a dog trotting around the grounds," he replies evenly, carelessly dismissing the danger. He smirks – an expression so very Sirius – and adds, "Nice to see you, too, Prongs. Thanks for asking how I am doing. It's only been, what – two, three months? I mean, it's not like I spent all that much time wondering if you were dead."

James shakes his head. "Worm-" he stops as soon as he starts, as soon as he sees the darkness slip into Sirius' gaze. He swallows, his own anger rearing for a moment before he can trample it down. He doesn't even know what to call Peter. Certainly not Wormtail, he's not a Marauder anymore, but then – Pettigrew? It sounds strange using the family name when he has never once called Peter that.

He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up. "Peter knows your Animagus form," he says pointedly, "which means Voldemort probably does, too."

Sirius shrugs, again ignoring the danger. "They haven't caught me yet," he says.

"I used to use that argument, too," James snaps back in anger and fear, "right up until Peter betrayed us and Lily and I got captured."

Silence.

James sinks onto the edge of the bed. "We're not invincible, Sirius," he says heavily, "and the fact that they haven't caught you yet doesn't mean they won't."

"Merlin, what happened to you?" Sirius demands. He pauses, waiting for an answer, but James has none to give, none Sirius would truly understand, and so Sirius gestures to the bedroom around them and presses, "Why are you in still here?"

"They find it amusing," James says hollowly, thinking of the way Mulciber's eyes had gleamed when he'd shoved James through the door of his own home. "That I'm here, that I can't leave. Trap me in my own home, but take away everything that made it actually feel like a home."

He is trapped, wandless and unable to do much besides pace up and down the empty hallways and reflect on how appalled his parents would be if they could see the state of the world now.

Sirius ignores the pain in James' voice. "I know there are wards up to stop you getting out by magical means, but there's nothing here to stop you from simply walking out," he argues logically. He looks around with a frown, before saying, "And what makes you think they're watching? Wouldn't they have attacked me by now if they were?"

"They probably want to see how I'll respond to you," James admits glumly. It is the only explanation for why Sirius was able to enter the house unmolested. They want to see what James will do, want to know if he will pick his best friend or his wife.

His pregnant wife.

This, too, is a torment, and one that Mulciber would enjoy. In fact, they'd probably be willing to let Sirius come and go as much as he likes, so long as he makes it all harder for James.

"Prongs, the Order still exists. We're all at Hogwarts now – it's the only safe place because Voldemort still fears Dumbledore – and we're still fighting. Why aren't you?"

"They have Lily," James answers even though Sirius must already know this. The entire Order knows that both he and Lily were captured. But perhaps they don't know all of it, perhaps they don't know Voldemort's threats. "If I do anything, if I fight them, they'll hurt her."

Sirius' expression flashes through several emotions, but the one that lingers longest is anger. His tone is scathing as he replies, "People are getting hurt – dying – every day. Out there – outside the walls of your parents' perfect home. You can't just sit here an ignore it!"

"You don't understand," James retorts, flushed at the implication that he would willingly let the world burn in order to save his wife – even if some small part of him knows that is exactly what he is doing right now. "What am I supposed to do? Condemn her to death?" He hesitates, then adds for good measure because he never got a chance to tell Sirius this, "Lily's pregnant."

He doesn't tell Sirius that he has already tried to escape once, and Lily was tortured for it. Doesn't tell Sirius that he was tortured for it, too – and that he never got past the front door.

Sirius raises his eyebrows. "Oh," he says flatly, his expression unreadable. He purses his lips, eyes slanting away from James. He glances around the room, gathering his thoughts, then looks back at James. "Congratulations, I guess," he says, his voice full of fake cheer. His lips twist into an ugly sneer. "Benjy Fenwick died a week ago. We only found bits of him. Pieces, strewn everywhere." He laughs darkly. "Those bastards had fun."

James closes his eyes, grief and guilt plaguing him. Benjy had been a year ahead of him at Hogwarts, but in Ravenclaw. He'd been smart and funny, a good Quidditch player, and devoted to fighting the Dark Arts. Fighting Voldemort. They hadn't really been friends, but they'd served together on a few Order missions, and James had admired the wizard.

"But you should continue to just sit here," Sirius grumbles bitterly, and James opens his eyes in time to see Sirius shake his head in disgust. "Be safe, be cozy. Never mind what the rest of us are going through."

James raises an eyebrow. Some part of him can't help but treacherously wonder if Sirius would be so passionately arguing if it was Remus the Death Eaters had in their control. Sirius had never liked Lily, calling her an judgmental, self-righteous know-it-all. Lily had never liked Sirius, calling him an arrogant, lazy show-off. The animosity between the two had only grown over time, ensnaring James between them.

But Remus – would Sirius be so eager to sacrifice Remus' life?

"Is it worth it?" Sirius demands.

"Do you think I want this?" James snarls, rising to his feet and taking a threatening step towards Sirius. "Don't you think I want to leave? Don't you think I'm trying to figure out a way? Don't you think this is agonizing – staying here, playing nice, while those scum destroy everything I believe in?"

"How should I know?" Sirius rejoins. "You're the one choosing to stay here."

"I have to think about Lily. I have to think about my child," James answers in a voice shaking with barely controlled rage. Sirius has no right to judge him. Sirius has never been faced with this kind of dilemma, has never been told to choose between sacrificing his wife for the greater good and sacrificing his own soul for the person he loves most in the world.

As though reading his thoughts, Sirius snaps, "I chose our side over Regulus, didn't I?"

"Lily's innocent," James retorts roughly, resenting the comparison. "Regulus is a Death Eater. Regulus killed people. Regulus made his choice."

Sirius snorts. "I'm sure Evans will be thrilled that you're letting people die in her name," he says coldly.

James feels as though Sirius has slapped him because that comment hits far too close to home. He turns away – he doesn't want to face this, doesn't want to admit that he has spent the last three months going nearly insane, unable to think of a way out of this mess.

"I can't do anything," he whispers. "They're watching me – always. They're probably listening to this conversation right now."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," comes Sirius' mocking response. Then, with one last disappointed glare for James, he disappears, and a large back dog bounds from the room.

James sinks back onto the bed and buries his head in his hands.

---

Alice's face has lost its fullness.

Lily pulls open the door and steps aside, allowing her friend into the cottage. Alice slips past with quick, light movements. She smiles, lips stretching her paper-thin skin until its seems as though it will split from the strain. A tooth is chipped, a raised scar slides down one arm. Her unevenly cut hair is thin and dull, full of wisps and split ends.

But she is standing there, alive.

Lily falls into her embrace, arms wrapping tightly around the other witch, fingers digging into the worn fabric of her blouse. Alice is too thin – she used to be rounder, softer, and now her shoulder blades poke out at sharp angles.

But Lily can feel Alice's heart beating.

"Oh, Lily…" Alice says quietly, "you look…" She trails off. There are no words for how Lily looks, for how any of them look.

She follows Lily into the kitchen where Harry is playing with a toy train set on the floor. He looks up and grins at Lily, and gives Alice a look filled with curiosity.

Alice looks back at him, her expression a mixture of unease and awe.

Lily takes one look at Alice's face and inhales. "People know," she states flatly.

"Rumors," Alice says with a half-shrug, as though to dismiss the truth. She slants a look at Lily. "They talk and they whisper. People knew that You Know Who was after a child. They wonder how Harry survived."

Something clenches painfully in Lily's chest. She turns away from Alice and nods vaguely. She runs her hands along the stiff fabric of her trousers, fingers itching to curl into fists, and tries to act nonchalant. Why did she think she could avoid this? Why did she think she could protect Harry from the inevitable, hide the truth from the world indefinitely?

"Mostly, they just celebrate," Alice continues from behind her. "You Know Who is dead. Whatever the reason, whatever the cause, that is something worth celebrating."

Lily walks over to the counter and leans her weight against it, her palms pressing into the cool ceramic. The tightness in her chest does not lessen, does not ease. She licks dry lips, then slowly faces Alice once more.

"How are you?" she asks.

Alice's features harden. She is quiet for a moment, then says bluntly, "Frank was killed."

"Oh – I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Alice. I didn't know," Lily responds immediately.

All the energy drains from Alice, and she sinks into the nearest chair. "Two months ago, during a raid. Bellatrix Lestrange did it."

Lily shivers at Bellatrix's name and tries not to think of all the ways the mad witch took pleasure in tormenting her while she was being held captive in the Lestrange's home.

In a shaky voice, she offers, "I'm sure she'll go to Azkaban for it. For all of it."

Alice meets Lily's gaze, her eyes hard and cold as ice. "She won't." The brunette lets out a long breath. "Bellatrix Lestrange is dead." A pause, then a barely audible admission. "I killed her. After she killed Frank, after I saw him fall… I killed her."

Lily knows guilt when she hears it, knows pain when she sees it. Alice is breaking underneath the façade, crumbling to pieces.

Then again… aren't they all?

"You did what you had to do," she murmurs, coming to kneel in front of Alice's chair. "She had to be stopped." She searches for something else to say, and finally settles on, "She would never have allowed herself to be taken alive."

Alice gives a bitter chuckle. "But I wasn't thinking of that," she admits, her voice filled with self-loathing. "I was thinking of Frank lying dead on the floor, I was thinking of the other time she had attacked us…" She rubes at her eyes and gives Lily a tremulous smile before dropping her gaze back to her lap. "You weren't there that time, either. It was a month or so after you and James had been captured. There was an attack in Diagon Alley." She touches her stomach for a moment, a lost looks in her eyes. "Bellatrix hit me in the stomach with some kind of slashing spell. There was so much blood, I nearly didn't make it. Frank saved me, but he couldn't…" She stops, sighs, shakes her head. There seems to be something more she wants to say, but the moment passes, and when she looks up at Lily, she says simply, "There was so much death that day."

Lily doesn't know what to say. What are the right words for this?

"The attack was what convinced Sirius to visit James for the first time," Alice continues. "Dumbledore didn't want him to. He said it was too risky, and he was still working on a plan, a safer plan, to get you and James out. But after that, after what happened… after what they did to Benjy…"

"But James didn't go," Lily says. She looks over at Harry who is still playing with his train. "James wouldn't leave because of me. Because of us."

"He was trying to protect you," Alice replies. "There's nothing wrong with that."

Lily gives an sardonic smile in response, and mutters to herself, "Tell that Sirius." She remembers his anger, remembers the way he glared at her as though she was to blame. And she remembers the way she yelled back, threatened him, told him to leave and never show his face again.

And some part of her can't help but wonder if James blames her as well. Does he hate her for this? Does he hold her responsible his inability to fight? She knows it haunts him – everything he wasn't able to do, all the people he couldn't save.

It haunts her, too.

She sighs.

Alice's gaze wanders back to Harry. "He was… he was born in… July… late July of last year?" she asks, her voice breaking over the words. Lily nods in confirmation, and Alice continues to stare at Harry with a mixture of longing and grief in her eyes.

Lily slips her hands into the pockets of her jumper and feels the smooth wood of Marlene's wand.

She turns away and bites back a sob.

---

He hears Marlene screaming.

He struggles towards her, fighting against the invisible ropes that pull him back. He tries to call to her, but he knows she can't hear him. He can barely hear himself over the sound of her screams.

Marlene is Lily's best friend. Marlene is Lily's confidant, study partner, ally. Marlene is everything to Lily, the way Sirius is everything to James.

And James knows it is already too late.

Bellatrix Lestrange is laughing.

There's blood – Marlene's blood – on the carpet. Both her parents are already dead, and her kid brother, too. He's only nine or ten, not even old enough to start at Hogwarts, but he's lying on the ground, limbs sprawled at awkward angles, face fixed permanently into an expression of pain.

It's a waste, all of it.

James is on his hands and knees, fingernails scraping against the floor, but he can't reach Marlene. He can't get to her, can't save her, but he keeps trying because he doesn't know how to do anything else.

A hand grabs his arm, and Mulciber whispers in his ear, "Wouldn't it be fun if we did this to your Mudblood, Potter?"

He jerks free of Mulciber grasp and struggles to attack the other wizard – to hurt him, to tear him apart, to make him pay for that threat. But he's trapped in these binds and Mulciber laughs and pushes him to the floor, grinning stupidly as James' cheek smacks against the cold tile.

And he knows Mulciber isn't bluffing, because he saw what they did to Lily the last time he tried to fight back.

Marlene's dark hair falls over her features, and she is still screaming and he still can't reach her.

---

One week after the hospital, Lily finally leaves the cottage.

She bundles Harry into a too-big jumper and, griping Marlene's wand tightly, walks down the long path outside the cottage. She and James have agreed on not using magic in the cottage itself, just in case someone at the Ministry is looking for Harry. There's too much chaos to trust the Daily Prophet when it writes that everyone is safe now, and though she knows it is nearly impossible to trace magic, she also knows that Voldemort had been strong enough – and clever enough – to do it.

She walks for several minutes along the road, holding Harry. He is dozing against her chest, lulled by her warmth and the steady beating of her heart. She would have left him behind, but James has gone to Hogwarts for the day and there is no one to watch him. At least, no one that she can trust with her son. Even Remus and Alice, two people she would trust with her very life…

She won't trust them with Harry. She can't. It is too hard, hurts too much.

She shifts Harry's weight to one arm and reaches into her pocket to dig out a small necklace. The pendant is a cracked stone of dark green, darker than her own eyes. The chain is a simple black ribbon, twisted and creased. Mary gave it to her for Christmas during their fifth year at Hogwarts.

Mary is dead.

She points the wand – Marlene's wand – at the pendant and creates an illegal portkey. She clutches it tightly, holds Harry, and waits for the familiar tug from behind her navel, for the rush of wind and darkness.

Then she finds herself standing on Privet Drive.

The house appears unchanged, and Lily wonders vaguely if the war even reached here. The manicured hedges surround the neatly trimmed lawn and boxy, boring house, and the midmorning sun casts an unflattering light over everything.

She sees Petunia through the kitchen window.

At her father's funeral, Petunia sneered at her throughout the entire service, than coldly told her at the end that, with both their parents dead, she saw no reason for them to fraternize in the future.

Lily almost turns and leaves.

But Petunia looks up just then, and catches Lily's gaze. They both stand frozen, the blood draining out of Petunia's face as it rushes into Lily's, and then the redhead forces herself to walk forward, towards the front door.

Petunia opens the door before Lily reaches it, and stares at her impassively. There is no anger in her eyes, no disgust, no envy. There is nothing in that blank stare, as though Lily is a stranger.

Perhaps they are strangers.

Then Petunia says, "I assumed you were dead."

"I'm not."

"I see that." Petunia pauses, looks behind her. Lily wonders if Vernon is there, but then shakes the thought away. It is midmorning, and Vernon will be at work. Perhaps friends, then? Whoever is in the house, Petunia obviously does not want them to meet her sister.

Then Lily hears the wail.

Harry wakes to the sound, looking around in confusion. He starts to babble, but Petunia fixes him with her cool stare, and Harry stops abruptly. He isn't upset or afraid, merely curious. His wide green eyes watch her.

"You have a child," Lily says.

Petunia nods. "A son," she answers in a clipped tone. She glances up and down the street, and Lily can practically see the dilemma playing out in her sister's mind. She doesn't want the neighbors to see her talking to Lily, but she also doesn't want to invite Lily inside to meet her son.

Lily swallows.

Petunia sighs. "What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to… I mean… with the war, I wanted to make sure that you…" Lily can't form coherent sentences. She can barely wrap her mind around the fact that her sister is a mother. Harry has a cousin.

"Yes. The war." Petunia nods. "You warned me about it last time."

Last time. Their father's funeral. Lily begged her sister to go into hiding, but Petunia refused. She was newly married to Vernon, then, and didn't want to impose upon him. He was essential at his firm, she insisted, and couldn't just leave.

Nothing Lily said would change her mind.

"You stopped sending those bothersome letters," Petunia continues. "I'd hoped your silence meant that you had finally realized I wanted nothing to do with you, but then we started hearing odds reports in the news and strange things happened around here, and I wondered." She gives Lily a once-over. "But you're not dead."

"No. I was captured… and then in hiding," Lily answers. There is a moment of awkward silence, and then she says, "This is Harry. My son. Mine and James'."

"You haven't left that awful boy, then?"

Anger flares in Lily's chest. After everything she has lost, how can Petunia talk so carelessly about leaving James? "No," she says, almost spitting out the word. "I haven't left him."

"Hm. Well." Petunia doesn't appear even the least bit fazed by Lily's anger. Her eyes are empty, her words detached. She gazes at Lily with a vague disinterest.

She feels nothing for Lily.

It doesn't occur to Lily that this apathy might be a mask to cover just how much Petunia feels.

The conversation ends with the same awkward silence with which it had started. Lily clears her throat. "I'm glad you're alright," she says.

Petunia nods, her eyes never leaving Lily's face. "It seems we both are."

Lily almost laughs at that. She is not alright, not even close, but Petunia obviously has no interest in hearing her story.

"I'll be going, then," she says, and turns her back on her sister. She can't fix this relationship, can't fix what has been broken for years, and for the first time, she feels as though maybe she doesn't even want to try.

She doesn't see the way Petunia's eyes stay on her as she walks back down the cement path towards the street, doesn't see the way Petunia almost calls her back.

When she looks over her shoulder one last time, Petunia is already turning away, the door closing behind her.

---

The dog comes back.

James can't even look at him. He doesn't want a fight – wants it even less now than he did before.

"Marlene's dead," Sirius says flatly, no introduction.

James feels a lump in his throat, and it takes all his strength to look Sirius in the eyes and reply, "I know."

Marlene's death nearly shattered his resolve. Not because he doesn't want to protect Lily, not because he doesn't want to protect their son. But Marlene was Lily's best friend. Marlene was one of the few people who Lily could honestly and truly say she would sacrifice her life for in a heartbeat and without hesitation.

And now she's dead.

How will Lily ever forgive him for this?

Sirius is completely still for a moment as the weight of the admission sinks in, and then he asks in a hoarse whisper, "How could you just…?" He stops, chokes off the words and turns away. "I found them. The bodies. Her whole family," he says numbly. "Even Adam. The boy was nine – did you know that, Prongs? Nine."

"I know," James repeats, but there is anger in his words now because however hard it was for Sirius to find them, at least he didn't have to be there when they were killed.

Sirius stares at him with accusatory eyes. "What happened to you?" he hisses. "You aren't the James Potter I knew at Hogwarts."

James yanks up the sleeves of his robes to show the vivid bruises that line his skin, and pulls down the collar of his shirt to show a scar that crosses his chest, remnants of a night Voldemort was bored. "No," he agrees, "I'm not the same."

Sirius stares.

James drops his arms to his side and says, "And those are only the ones the left marks. Most of them don't. And the things they do to Lily – those don't leave physical marks, either."

Something softens in Sirius' face for just a moment, and he asks, "Do you see them? Do you see her?"

"An enchanted mirror," James answers. "I always see what they do to her – they make me watch. But she never sees me. She doesn't even know if I'm…" He stops, because he remembers seeing her screaming in agony and trying to protect her stomach, and he remembers that even in the pain and even filled with fear for their unborn child, she still looked up at her captors and begged for word of James.

He's failing her, failing everyone, and she just wants to know if he's alive.

Sometimes he wishes he wasn't.

"I tried to get to Marlene," he says, taking a shaky breath. "I tried, but I couldn't reach her, couldn't save her, couldn't… I just couldn't."

Sirius nods, but his expression is hard again. "Gideon and Fabian are dead – did you know that?"

James wordlessly shakes his head.

"Took five Death Eaters to take them down," Sirius says. "And Dorcas, she died, too. The rumor is that Voldemort killed her himself." Sirius pauses, wiping a hand over his face, and James sees the pain etched into the lines there. But then Sirius is pressing relentlessly onwards, "And Emmaline Vance, and Hestia Jones. I didn't really know them well, but weren't they both at your wedding?" Sirius waits for an answer, and when James has none to give, he says, "We need you."

James can say nothing. Sirius might think escape is easy, but James knows better. The moment he tries to leave the grounds of his parents' house without permission, they will come. And then…

He rubs at his eyes.

"They're not stopping me from coming in," Sirius says angrily, "what makes you think they'll be able to stop you from leaving?"

"They want you here," James snaps irritably. "Don't you see that? Don't you see they're enjoying this?" He starts to pace, anger bubbling up, because, damn it, why does Sirius have to think that everything is so easy? "They want to torment me, and this – having you here, listening to this, knowing I can't do anything about it – this is worse than most anything they could dream up." He laughs then, a hollow, bitter laugh, and asks, "Do you really think I haven't tried to escape yet?"

Sirius blinks, but now it is his turn to be quiet.

"It didn't work, though," James adds needlessly, and then, after a long moment, murmurs, "And I tried again and again but it didn't work. It never works. All it does its hurt me, hurt Lily, hurt my child." He gives Sirius an ugly smirk. "At least, I think it does. I don't know how bad Crucio is for an unborn child."

And this time, Sirius blanches.

He walks over to the window and stares out at the lawn. "They attacked Remus. He barely made it out alive. The wounds were cursed – Voldemort's damn snake did it. St. Mungo's wouldn't take him because they don't accept part-humans anymore, and…" He trails off for a moment, but James is listening to every word because he has to know. Sirius clears his throat. "Dumbledore's phoenix saved him. Phoenix tears have special healing properties, or something like that. So thank Merlin for Dumbledore, or Remus would be-" He stops, and this time can't finish.

"Sirius…" James doesn't know what to say.

"We need you, Prongs," Sirius says. "Let me figure out a way to get you out of here. The Order – we can get you out. I know we can, you just need to be willing to come with us."

"I've always been willing to go with you. But not without Lily."

Sirius looks at him for a long time, then nods. "Not without Lily."

---

"I saw Petunia today."

James looks up from his seat on the worn sofa, surprised. His eyes flick sideways, towards the bedroom where Harry is currently sleeping.

"I took Harry with me," Lily answers his unasked question.

"Why didn't you tell me?" James demands. "I didn't know you were even thinking of going."

"I didn't know I was going."

James frowns. "You should have told me," he presses. "I should have gone with you."

"I'm not fragile," Lily snaps, frustrated. "I don't need you to protect me. It was a short trip, and I could easily have Apparated away with Harry if anything happened." She hesitates, then adds, "I just needed to see her."

"I don't think you're fragile, but is it wrong for me to want you safe?" James answers reasonably, and somehow the reasonableness of his tone aggravates her even more.

"The world isn't safe," Lily answers harshly. "Who says it will ever be safe again?"

On the coffee table between them lies a copy of the Daily Prophet, the headline on the front page announcing Barty Crouch's appointment as Minister of Magic.

James runs a hand through his hair, messing it up. "Crouch hates the Dark Arts more than anything else. He might be good for us," he suggests. A pause, then, "It's certainly better than Malfoy."

"People want vengeance," Lily muses, "and Crouch will give it to them. He is giving it to them, even now." She shakes her head slowly and says honestly, "But that isn't the world I want to build for Harry."

James doesn't answer right away, but instead gazes into the fire, his expression thoughtful. "They wanted Dumbledore for Minister," he says after a minute. "Everyone did. But Dumbledore refused."

"Hm," Lily says noncommittally.

James slants a look at her. "How is your sister?"

Lily shrugs, now unsure why she even bothered bringing it up. There's nothing to say about Petunia that hasn't been said many times before.

"At least she's still alive," James says with a weary smile. "I know you were worried about her before. Is she still married to that awful Muggle?"

Lily nods.

"What was his name – Dursley? Vernon, wasn't it? Vernon Dursley? Idiot name, really."

Lily closes her eyes as James continues to prattle on about her sister and brother-in-law. He's doing again, she notes in frustration. Talking to fill the silence, always talking. And yet none of the words are what she wants to hear, what they both need to be said.

Before she can stop herself, Lily demands, "Are we really going to do this?"

James pauses mid-sentence. "Do what?"

"Talk about… about politics… about Petunia… about everything except the things that matter."

"What are you on about?" James asks in confusion.

"This is what you do!" Lily snaps irritably. "You talk and you talk and you talk, but you never say anything. We've been apart for two years, James. Why are you talking about Petunia? Why aren't you talking about the things that matter? About Sirius, about Peter, about…"

James lifts his chin. "I didn't realize you wanted to talk," he says coldly. "It's not like you ever make an effort to talk, not with me. But then I suppose I don't measure up to Remus and Alice." Lily opens her mouth to argue, but James doesn't give her a chance to respond. "You always do this. You won't talk at all, and then you get mad at me because I don't talk about the things you think are important."

"I don't always do that," Lily argues, and tries to ignore how similar James' words are to Remus'.

"You do! You did. At Hogwarts, you would…"

"Well, then why can't we get past this as easily as we did at Hogwarts?"

Neither says anything, even if the answer to Lily's question is obvious. Nothing at Hogwarts ever mattered this much. Nothing at Hogwarts ever hurt this much.

The stakes were never this high.

"You want to talk about something important?" James challenges finally, his tone biting and acerbic. "Tell me about you. Tell me what happened to you. The Death Eaters had you for a few months, and I knew all about that, but then you were free for over a year and a half. And I don't know what happened to you. So tell me."

"I hid," Lily growls, rising to her feet and glaring at him. She hates having to admit to this, but the words tumble out regardless. "That's all – that was the only thing I did. People died and I hid. Is that what you want to know?"

"That's not telling me anything," James argued. "I already knew that."

"Well, what else do you want to know?" Lily demands, practically screeching the words at him. "That Sirius got me out? Oh, but you knew that already, didn't you? Or how about that I thought you were dead? That when your escape attempt went all wrong, Voldemort and his Death Eaters let the world think you were dead, and I believed that I was truly alone. Do you want to know what that felt like? Is that it? That you want me to say it felt like somehow had pulled the entire floor out from underneath my feet?"

She's not really sure why she's yelling, but the words are suddenly pouring out and she can't stop them. And the completely unreadable look on James' face only makes her angrier.

"Or do you want to know that I lived in a rundown shack for over eighteen months? That my only company was Sirius, and all we did was yell at each other? Do you want to know that I was completely alone when Harry was born?" She spreads her arms. "There. You know something about me. Now tell me about you."

James stares at her, white-faced. "You were alone? No one was with you when you went into labor?"

Lily curls her hand into a fist, nails biting into her palm. "It doesn't matter. None of it matters. Harry is fine – I'm fine. Tell me about you."

"But why wasn't Sirius with you? Or someone else from the Order?"

"Sirius was on a mission at the time," Lily answers impatiently. "And I didn't see anyone else from the Order. Didn't you get that, James? Don't you understand it now? Sirius was the only person other than Harry that I saw for over eighteen months!"

"But… the Order…I thought the Order rescued you."

"He got me out of the Lestrange Manor," Lily retorts. "It was an Order mission, and I was suppose to go back with the others, but Sirius dragged me away. Said it wasn't safe. Said I needed to hide somewhere, at least until you were out. He didn't trust the rest of the Order – or, at least, he didn't trust them enough. He was willing to trust them with his own life, but not with mine." And remembering the fury in Sirius' eyes as he explained why James hadn't fought back, Lily sincerely doubts that Sirius had done this for her. So she adds, "Because you loved me."

James is still staring at her, his brow furrowed.

"He took me to that house, that… that shack. He told me to stay there, to stay safe, until they could rescue you. I think the rest of the Order was unhappy – Moody, especially, but Sirius refused to tell them where I was. He put protection spells all around our home…" She trails off for a moment, then sighs and says bitterly. "They weren't enough, though. We should have done more. Something stronger, something… more. Just more."

How could they have believed a few basic wards would be enough?

Lily rubs at her eyes again. "After the Order attempted to rescue you, after thought that you were-" she stops, unable to say the word she means, and finally settles for "gone… Sirius didn't want me to go back to the Order. He argued that I should stay where I was, stay safe, at least until Harry was born. And then, afterwards… he was still adamant that I not leave. He never really explained why, but I… the look in his eyes when he demanded it… I'd already cost him his best friend. How could I refuse this?"

"Sirius wouldn't have blamed you for that," James protests weakly.

"He did," Lily answers flatly. She gives James a long look, but can't bring herself to ask the question on the tip of her tongue. She needs to know if James blames her for what happened – she just doesn't want to know.

"I'm sorry," James whispers finally, burying his head in his hands. "I should have protected you better. I should have done more. I should have fought back somehow."

Lily blinks, and feels her eyes burn. She angrily brushes away the tears that have started to form and mutters, "If I hadn't been in the hands of Death Eaters, you would have been free to fight. If you didn't feel the need to keep me safe, you could have been doing so much more these past two years, and then… then things would be different. Sirius would be…"

"Don't," James says, cutting her off. He stares at her for a long moment, studying her expression, and then, with a choked, almost hysterical laugh, says, "You actually think I blame you?"

"Don't you?"

"Of course not." His expression is so weary, so haunted. "I blame me. I didn't fight in order to keep you safe, but what good did it do when they tormented you anyway? I couldn't fight them, and I couldn't protect you. I wasn't even able to protect you after you escaped. You were all alone. All I did was fail everyone over and over." He hesitates, then adds, "I couldn't even save Marlene. I watched her die."

"I know," Lily murmurs. "Sirius told me." She doesn't say anything else – doesn't add that Sirius yelled it at her as he paced up and down the length of her hideaway shack.

She doesn't add that, after they both thought James was dead, Sirius was frequently overcome with guilt about all the things he had said James while James had been in captivity.

She doesn't add that Sirius' self-loathing often came out as anger and blame – directed at her.

She doesn't say that all she and Sirius ever did was argue. She doesn't say that even when he was her only connection to the outside world, her only friend, she still didn't like him.

There are a lot of things she doesn't say.

Instead, she says, "None of it was your fault."

"Wasn't it?" James counters bitterly. "I shouldn't have… I should have gotten out. I should have escaped."

"You tried," Lily whispers.

"Yes, well… trying clearly wasn't good enough," James answers bitterly. "I left you – left Harry. I can't… when I look at him, all I see are all the ways I failed. I can't even hold him. It feels wrong, awkward. He acts like he knows who I am, but he responds to you. I can't recognize his cries, can't comfort him when he's upset, can't make him laugh or smile. I don't… I don't know how to do this. It's like I've missed my opportunity to learn how to be a father, and now all I have are… are regrets."

Lily doesn't know what to say to that. He's not the only one with regrets.

James stares moodily into the fire.

---

"Prongs, come on!"

A flash of light illuminates the hallway and James stumbles back, barely dodging the spell. The wall behind him explodes, pieces of wood and flecks of paint raining down on them. Shadows move on the staircase, coming towards him, and Sirius turns back to urge him to hurry.

The Order is out there – Moody and Longbottom and Dearborn and he doesn't know who else, fighting the Death Eaters who have filled his parents' home. But they can't Apparate out with the anti-Appration spells in place; only Voldemort can bring them down and…

"Did you really think you could get away from us that easily, Potter?"

James' fingers curl around the wand Sirius brought himas Bellatrix appears at the top of the stairs, Avery and Travis behind her. He hears Sirius growl and almost expects a black shaggy dog to spring forward. But Sirius doesn't transform, and instead points his wand and murmurs a word under his breath.

Bellatrix counters the spell easily, and her eyes fix on him in a maniacal glee. "Hello, cousin," she coos, advancing slowly. The two wizards who flank her smile in anticipation.

From the floor below comes the sounds of shouting, and them something crashes and breaks. James wonders who has fallen – an Order member, one of his friends? – but he does not take his eyes away from the three approaching Death Eaters. He slashes his wrist angrily, half-shouting a spell, and Bellatrix grits her teeth as she counters the blow.

She stumbles backwards a step, and then Sirius fires off another spell, and suddenly the air is filled with flashes of light and surges of heat as the two sides engage in a full-out, vicious attack. James can't see straight, and can barely think, and it is only his instincts that he keep him alive as jets of red and blue and green come his way.

But something slips past his defenses and hits him in the stomach. His vision turns momentarily red, everything sliding in and out of focus, and it takes all his strength to hold onto his consciousness.

"Prongs!" Sirius screams, panic lacing his voice. He snarls and swirls around, turning all his rage on Bellatrix. The light that leaves his wand is cold white, and it strikes Bellatrix full in the face, causing large gashes to appear. Blood runs down her cheeks like tears. She screams, but halfway through her shout of agony, something changes. Madness leaps into her eyes, pain replaced by insane fury, and words form. They are indecipherable to James – he can't think, his own pain has left him disoriented and crouching on the floor – but then Bellatrix's face is awash in a glow of red and orange, and flames begin to lick the walls of the parents' house.

Fiendfyre.

James chokes on the black smoke that billows into the hallway, obscuring his vision, and then feels Sirius grab him by the shoulder and pull him backwards. He stumbles, and then runs with Sirius at his side.

There is no need for this wanton destruction, but Bellatrix is laughing wildly behind them, and there is nothing James can do to keep his childhood home from falling to pieces all around him.

The rescue has gone all wrong, but if James can just make it out of the house, out onto the grounds, then maybe…

A figure appears before him, and everything stands still.

Peter.

"You," Sirius says, and that one word is filled with so much loathing, so much hatred, that James almost doesn't recognize his friend's voice. Sirius bares his teeth, his eyes alight with something dark and dangerous.

James looks into his friend's eyes and wants to stop it – wants to stop all of this – before it leads them all somewhere they can't come back from.

"Sirius," he says. A warning. A plea.

Sirius gives a guttural cry of pain and betrayal and launches himself forward, hands outstretched, wand forgotten. He pounds his fist into Peter's face, and the smaller man keels over almost immediately, and tries to crawl away. But he is pressed against a wall, and there is no mercy in Sirius' eyes as he yanks Peter back to his feet and punches him in the face again.

Peter shrieks as his nose breaks, and his head slams against the wall.

"Traitor," Sirius growls. "How many of us have died because of you, rat?"

"I didn't… I… Sirius, please…" Peter squeaks, holding his hands ineffectively in front of his face.

"Please? Are you begging?" Sirius taunts with maniacal glee, and his expression is so similar to the one Bellatrix wore only moments before that it is all James can do to keep from flinching away from his friend.

"Sirius, stop it!" James orders. "We don't have time for this. We need to go."

"Stop it?" Sirius echoes with a sneer, not even bothering to look at James. He raises his wand slowly, pointing it directly at Peter's head. "Isn't that what we do, Prongs? Fight the bad guys?"

James swallows. "Sirius – don't. Don't kill him in cold blood. Don't take the easy way out." He's pleading now, and he knows it. "Don't become… don't become him."

Sirius falters. He drops his arm and steps backwards, away from Peter, and the madness in his eyes flickers and dies.

Then a door in front of them flings open and Mulciber appears, wand raised. James knocks Sirius out of the way moments before the ceiling above them explodes. He tumbles forward in a mass of flailing limbs, and Mulciber presses the advantage. Before he is completely aware of what is happening, James finds himself sprawled on the floor, his replacement wand in Mulciber's hand, blood seeping from a wound on his side.

In the chaos, Peter disappears.

Black smoke seeps through the air all around them.

James tries to get back to his feet, but Mulciber lazily flicked his wrist and James felt his limbs stiffen and snap to his side, immobilized.

He can still talk, though – can still scream.

"Padfoot, run!"

His warning turns into a gurgle of pain as Mulciber says softly, "Crucio." He hears the Death Eater laughing coldly, that noise penetrating the cloud of pain that blocks out everything else.

He tastes blood in his mouth.

The curse lifts, and he gasps for breath. He can't see, but he hears the sound of wood splintering, of Sirius' swearing. He struggles uselessly against his invisible bonds, desperate to reach his friend.

But he can't move, can't do a damn thing.

"Padfoot, run!" he gasps out again, unsure if Sirius is even alive. He can't see anything, but he has to try. "Go – leave me. Get out."

Mulciber kicks him in the ribs. Bellatrix enjoys pain – all pain, indiscriminately – but Mulciber has always had it out for James specifically, ever since fourth year, since the incident with Mary. Another kick comes to James' head, and he sees stars.

Mulciber laughs.

He should have known. Sirius said the Order could get him out, get him to safety, but every other escape attempt he tried ended in failure, so why did he think this time would be any different?

This is all his fault. The guilt suffocates him, hurting far worse than the physical pain. The house is on fire and for all he knows the Order members on this mission are all dead – and Sirius, too – and all because they were trying to get him out.

Something hits him in the back and everything goes dark.

He wakes up in Azkaban.

---

Dumbledore is standing in her kitchen.

Lily can't quite comprehend what is happening. Dumbledore is talking – saying words and sentences and explanations, and she knows this is important, knows she should be listening closely. But the panic has closed in on her again, and all she can hear is that he knew her son would be in danger.

"A little under two years ago, I heard a prophecy about a child, a boy, who had the power to defeat Voldemort. The child was not indicated by name, but the prophecy spoke of a boy who would be born at the end of July, a boy whose parents' had defied Voldemort three times. Your son was the only child I knew of who fit that description."

Lily swallows. "Why didn't you tell us?" she accuses.

Dumbledore sighs heavily as he looks between her and an equally seething James. "You were both already in Death Eater custody. I had no way of contacting you in secret, and I could not take the chance that the Death Eaters would hear this. I did not want to reveal to Voldemort what I knew."

"I was eventually free," Lily snaps. "Surely you could have told me then."

"And I would have," Dumbledore answers calmly, sympathetically, "but I did not know where you were." He pauses for just a moment, then adds delicately, "Sirius was not forthcoming with those details."

His sympathy, his pity, his imperturbable calm only sere to make Lily angrier. She grinds her teeth.

"He said he wanted to keep you safe," Dumbledore explains, almost as an afterthought. "Sirius didn't want anyone to know where you were, not even those in the Order. He thought it safer."

Lily shakes her head irritably. She's not sure if she's mad at Dumbledore or herself or Sirius or simply furious at the unfairness of it all. "He shouldn't have made that decision for me, shouldn't have refused you," she grumbles, hating that she sounds almost petulant. Still, she can't help but wonder what she would have done differently if she'd known. What more could she have done besides hide? Wouldn't knowing that Harry was a target have only made her all the more willing to cut herself off from the outside world, from any chance of being discovered?

But that does little to ease the resentment she feels. It was her life – and Harry's, too – and she was not told.

Aloud, she says, "But Voldemort learned of the prophecy and learned where I was and came after Harry anyway. I should have hid better."

"But Harry didn't die," James interrupts, speaking for the first time since the conversation began. "He… he defeated Voldemort?" It is a question, not a statement, and he turns to Dumbledore for confirmation.

The old man nods, and Lily is struck with the realization that her one-year-old son stopped the most powerful Dark wizard the modern world had ever known.

"I don't… I don't understand… how?" she stammers.

"He was protected by love," Dumbledore replies. "Self-sacrificing love. It is strong, powerful, and something Voldemort does not understand."

Lily laughs suddenly, feeling half-mad. "I'm not sure I understand, either," she says.

But it is James who catches exactly what Dumbledore said, and it is James who asks sharply, "Voldemort does not understand?" Lily looks at him, confused, but he is starting hard at Dumbledore as he continues, "Present tense."

Lily's mouth drops open in horror as the weight of James' words settles on her. She looks between her husband and the Headmaster. "You think he's not truly gone?" she whispers.

Dumbledore slowly lowers his head in affirmation. He looks so old, so weary, as he admits, "I don't know for certain, but… no, I am not convinced that he is truly gone."

The kitchen is deathly silent.

"You would do well not to tell anyone of the prophecy," Dumbledore advises as James shows him to the door. "There are already rumors floating around, gossip about what Harry has done." He looks over at Lily with a sympathetic gaze, "Keep the prophecy a secret. It is the best way to protect your son."

Lily nods.

James asks, "Does anyone else know? Did you tell anyone?"

Dumbledore pauses in the open doorway. "I only told one other person," he replies, and Lily knows what he is going to say before he utters the name. "Sirius."

As the door closes behind the Headmaster, Harry starts to wail from the nursery, announcing that he has woken from his nap. Lily turns automatically at the sound, pushing aside all other thoughts, and walks quickly to her son's room. She lifts Harry into her arms and lets him wrap himself around her. He blinks blearily at her and sniffles. She presses a kiss into his hair and shushes him, and he slowly settles down.

She turns, and is surprised to find James standing there.

Dumbledore's warning settles heavily over her once more.

"What does this mean for us? For Harry?" she demands quietly, hugging her son close.

"I don't know," James admits, and she sees her own fears reflected in his eyes.

"Merlin, I can't… I can't do this," she confesses.

"We can protect Harry," James answers even though he has doubts as well.

"But it's not just that," Lily answers. "It's everything." She sets Harry down on the floor, and he scrunches up his face in protest, but then is quickly distracted by the toys scattered about the floor of his nursery. "Mary is dead, Frank is dead, Gideon and Fabian, and Benjy, too, and Dorcas, and how many others? And through all of it, I hid." She can't keep the venom out of her voice, can't stop her tone from reflecting her guilt and self-loathing. "And Sirius and I argued and yelled at each other and never got along, and we both thought you were dead, but I still hid. And for what? What did I get from this? What good did it do any of us if Harry is still in danger? If Voldemort comes back?" She sags. "I can't do this."

Tears well in her eyes and she has to bite back the urge to scream. Why does it feel like all she has done since the hospital is try not to cry?

"Lils…"

"I hid, and what good did it do?" Lily demands, the words spilling out. She wants an answer – needs one, desperately. She wants to believe that something good came from all of this, but she just can't figure out what. "The war is over and we won. So why doesn't it feel like it? How can this be winning? Marlene is dead and I am using her wand." She yanks it out and thrusts her arm at James, displaying the wand.

"I'm sorry, Lily. I am," James says emphatically, his face crumbling. He comes closer to her, and rests his hands on her arms. "You have to believe that. I'm so sorry for Marlene."

Lily raises an eyebrow. "What are you talking about? Why would I blame you for Marlene?"

James lets out a long breath, and when he speaks, his words run together in a rush, as though he's afraid that if he doesn't say it all now, he will lose his nerve.

"Because I was there – I saw her die." Lily snaps her gaze to James' face because she didn't know that and James presses on, "And I tried to save her. I did. But I couldn't get to her. I just couldn't reach her, and she was screaming, and I… Lils, I wanted to save her. More than anything. She is – was – your best friend, and all I could think as she died was that you'd never forgive me for this. She died because I couldn't save her."

James looks at her expectantly, waiting for her to say something, but she doesn't react. She can't react. She can't feel anything but the overwhelming emotion bubbling in her chest and the helplessness threatening to choke her.

"There," James murmurs ironically, dropping his arms to his side and slumping, "now we're talking about the important things."

Lily recognizes the comment for what it is – and invitation to keep talking. To keep talking about whatever matters to her, regardless of what it might cost him.

She averts her eyes, and her gaze lands on Harry.

"Do you blame me for Sirius?"

"What? No. No." James looks at her in horror. "How could you think that?"

"Because it is the exact same thing as Marlene, isn't it? Besides, I see the way you look at me when I talk about him," Lily answers honestly. "Or, rather, the way you won't look at me."

"The Death Eaters sent me to Azkaban and told everyone I was dead. The world – the Order, you, Sirius. But don't you see, Lily? They told me the same thing about Sirius." His voice breaks over the words as he explains, "They told me that he was dead, that he'd been killed in that escape attempt. I thought he'd been killed because of me. And then… then I find out that he wasn't killed, that he escaped and… and what good does any of it do? I'm too late – again."

"Voldemort killed Severus because of me. When Sirius helped me escape from the Lestranges, Severus was there. Sirius and I were running away and… we were almost caught. Rabastan Lestrange disarmed Sirius and… and was about to kill me, but then Severus stopped him. He saved me, and then Sirius got his wand back and… Severus just stood there and watched as we escaped." Lily isn't really sure why she says the words, accept that maybe she wants James to know that she understands what it feels like to be too late.

She knows Severus is a sore subject for James, but to his credit, he looks at her with interest in his eyes and doesn't interrupt.

"He saved my life. And I… I knew Voldemort would never forgive him for that. He'd be tortured, killed. And I wanted to go back for him, but it was too dangerous. Sirius promised – very reluctantly and after a lot of yelling –to talk to Dumbledore about offering Severus sanctuary, but then it was too late. Voldemort killed Severus. And I…" She blinks, wipes at he eyes. "It's stupid, isn't it? I mean, I lost him years ago, and I know that. But this… this was losing him all over again."

"I'm sorry," James says, and means it.

And she knows how much those words cost him.

"I love you," she says, promises. "Always."

James smiles then, the first true smile that she has seen in far too long. "I love you, too." He looks down at Harry. "But I've missed so much."

Lily nods in agreement, then says in a hoarse voice, "You're here now."

On a whim, James reaches down and lifts Harry into his arms. He looks awkward and unsure, and Harry stiffens in momentary surprise. But then he pokes James' glasses and giggles.

James brushes a hand through his son's hair, then slowly traces the outline of the scar on Harry's forehead.

He meets Lily's gaze, and asks tentatively, "Can you… can you tell me what happened?"

---

She is standing in the quiet of her squalid home, listening to the raindrops drumming against the roof. It is cold – the air has grown colder over the last few months, and not just because summer has ended. A gray mist drifts past the, settling heavily over everything, and in her mind she hears echoes of an old Defense Against the Dark Arts lecture on Dementors breeding.

The door bursts open, interrupting her quiet, and she spins around.

It is Sirius, wide-eyed and frantic. He has his wand out, and she immediately reaches for her own, for the one Sirius returned to her when they escaped. Fear and self-preservation come together as she automatically prepares for danger.

"What's wrong?" she asks, panic making it hard to speak.

He grabs her arm. "Where is Harry?" he demands, ignoring her question.

"In the bedroom. Sleeping. Sirius, what is going on?" she presses.

"The prophecy," Sirius says, and though his answer means nothing to her, she can tell it means something important to him.

"What prophecy? What are you talking about?"

Sirius drags her into the bedroom, and she stumbles to stay upright as his grip on her arm tightens. Harry wakes from the noise, and starts to cry. In response, she wrenches herself from Sirius' grasp and picks up her son.

"The prophecy – he thinks it's Harry. He's coming," Sirius says to her, and that still doesn't make any sense, but before Lily can ask for more details, a wave of something rushes through the air. It pulses with a strange energy, and then is gone.

She doesn't know what it is, but Sirius identifies it immediately, and swears under his breath.

"Anti-Apparition wards," he explains, and his words are punctuated by the sound of gliding footsteps on the cement steps outside the house and the front door being blown off its hinges with a resounded crack.

Harry screams.

They are trapped.

Sirius shoves her towards the grimy window and clutches his wand tightly. "I'll hold him off," he says, "but you need to get out of here. Get out the window and run until the wards are gone. Then get away."

"Hold him off…?" Lily repeats, shaking her head incredulously. It doesn't make any sense – how can Sirius possibly hope to survive a direct duel with Voldemort? Doesn't he know that such a thing is suicide? "What are you doing?"

"Protecting you," Sirius says. "I promised James I would never let anything happen to you, and he might be dead now, but I won't break this promise! Now take Harry and go."

She hesitates, unwilling to leave him. But then the bedroom door shatters into pieces, and she can't help but think it is already too late. Blood-red eyes fix on her, and time stands still.

Voldemort.

He holds his wand in white, bony fingers, and though his figure in skeleton-thin, he seems to take up the entire room. The shadows close in around him, and Lily feels as though she is suffocating. Her heart hammers in her chest as she takes a few stumbling steps backwards and tightens her grip on her wand.

"Run! Lily, take Harry and run!" Sirius screams, jumping in front of her. He points his wand at Voldemort and utters a spell.

The jet of light that explodes from his wand in green, and Lily thinks – in an odd, disconnected sort of way – that Sirius has just cast the killing curse. Sirius is bold and rash and reckless and doesn't always – doesn't ever – think through the consequences of his actions, but she can't remember him ever casting Avada Kedavra before.

Voldemort carelessly brushes aside the curse, and laughs. It is high-pitched and inhuman, and the temperature in the room plummets.

Or maybe this is all her imagination? She can't tell anymore because the fear seems to have rooted her to the spot.

"Evans, run!" Sirius cries, and the sheer panic in his voice forces her backwards, towards the window.

The spell hits her in the back and she crumbles to the ground in agony, Harry tumbling from her arms. He hits the floor with another scream, and Lily struggles towards him, crawling on her hands and knees. The spell didn't kill her, but she knows Voldemort will soon, and she needs to get to Harry.

She hears Sirius shout another spell, and his shadow falls over her as he assumes a protective stance.

She reaches Harry.

"Move," she hears the voice above her say, and turns to look at Voldemort. But he is not looking at her – rather, he is focused on Sirius. The inhuman red eyes don't blink as a cold voice hisses, "Step aside. There is no need to waste blood as pure as yours. Step aside and leave the boy to me."

Sirius is shaking – she sees fear in the lines of his face, and knows that this is an emotion he rarely shows. But beneath the terror is a firm resolve, and though he shakes, he does not waver.

"No," he says, his voice clear and unyielding.

"Step aside, you foolish boy," Voldemort orders again, irritation and impatience creeping into his voice.

But Sirius won't move. Voldemort sends a spell at him, and Sirius blocks it, the fear fading from his features. He laughs suddenly, exhilarated, and in that brief moment, the weary lines caused by the war fade away, and Lily sees him as he looked at Hogwarts, young and full of life and promise.

The killing curse hits him directly in the chest.

She screams and surges towards his falling body, his name dying on her lips. Something inside her snaps, and as she lifts her wand, all she can think of is how much she wants to hurt Voldemort. All her bitterness, all her fear, all her fury seep into the wand and explode as she snarls two words she thought she would never say.

"Avada kedavra!"

The house reverberates with the force of her spell, and the green jet of light slices forward, illuminating dust motes suspended in midair and cobwebs stretched across the corners of the room. Voldemort conjures a shield, and the spell hits it and explodes backwards, knocking off her feet and causing him to stumble.

She slams into the wall and sinks to the ground, stunned.

Voldemort recovers, and points his wand at Harry.

There is a flash of green, and the house crumbles around her, dust and dirt and soot obscuring her vision. She slumps over as everything explodes. Stars dance before her eyes.

She hears Harry cry out, but it is Sirius' dead eyes that are the last thing she sees before the darkness claims her.

---

James' arm sprawls across her as he rolls over in his sleep.

The house is quiet and still, and Lily stares up at the ceiling above her bed as the memory flashes before her eyes. It haunts her. It will never stop haunting her. All the arguments they had, all the bickering and insults and blame, and for what? What did any of it really matter in the end?

She looks at James. He looks peaceful as he sleeps, and peace is not something that either of them have been able to obtain lately. She almost wishes they could lie here like this forever.

But she is awake the memories still haunt her.

Moonlight cascades through the window and falls on their bedside table, illuminating Marlene's wand.

She slips out from between the sheets and tiptoes along the hallway to Harry's nursery. He lies on his back, his thumb in his mouth, one hand clutched around the tail of the stuffed dog James gave him. His eyelids flicker as he dreams.

She smiles.

Then she looks up at the ceiling and says quietly, "Thank you. And… I'm sorry."

There is no reply, of course, but she tries to imagine what Sirius would say if he could answer. Probably some insult, she can't help but think. Probably some accusation. Or maybe he would actually try to be comforting, if only for James' sake.

But there are no words for this grief and guilt. Nothing can make this better except time.

But time, at least, she has – she and James both.

She presses a kiss into Harry's hair. He gurgles in his sleep, and she brushes a few strands of hair out of his eyes. Then she turns and pads back along the hallway to her own bedroom.

James blearily opens his eyes as she climbs back into bed. He yawns and flops one arm over her again, and then closes his eyes and murmurs in sleepy confusion, "You left?"

"Just to check on Harry," she says. "I'm here." She curls into his side and promises herself, "I'll always be here."

If it doesn't break your heart it isn't love
If it doesn't break your heart it's not enough
It's when you're breaking down with your insides coming out
That's when you find out what your heart is made of
And you haven't lost me yet