Author's Note: Written for the random AU competition. Absent character! AU.

Lily Potter stared at the Healer in growing dismay, one hand rising to her mouth in an unconscious gesture of comfort.

"What?" she asked again, hoping the woman's words had been wrong. Healer Abbott sighed and shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Potter," the Healer said. "But I'm afraid it's true. You're infertile. You can't have children."

As if in a daze, Lily sank down onto the sofa, legs trembling. What would her parents say? What would James say? Oh gods, what if he didn't want to be with her anymore? Divorce was frowned upon in the wizarding world, but she'd heard more than one tale of a witch or wizard practically abandoning their spouse for numerous lovers on the side. What if he took a lover who could give him what she couldn't? A baby?

She didn't realise that she was hyperventilating until the Healer was by her side, squeezing her hands and telling her to breathe slowly in a firm voice. Shakily, she did as she was bid, until her breathing calmed and she told Healer Abbott, in as calm tones as she could manage, that she would be fine until James came home.

As the woman whirled away in a cascade of green flames, however, Lily knew it was a lie. She paced up and down the parlour, wondering what she would tell him. He knew that she'd have her check-up today. Maybe she could stretch the truth? Outright lie? Claim it was him? No, she couldn't claim it was him, then he'd go through the same nightmarish maelstrom she was right now. She couldn't do that to him. Not James.

But what could she do? For a moment, Lily thought of returning to her Muggle roots and going to an infertility specialist. After all, even the Healer had admitted that St. Mungo's did not have the best facilities for women's reproductive issues. But how could she do that with a war on? Because of the Order of the Phoenix, Lily was a high-profile witch. If she went to a Muggle doctor, chances were that either a) everyone would find out about it, and her problems conceiving would be plastered over the Daily Prophet or b) Voldemort would use that as an excuse to target whatever establishment had had the misfortune to see her. Or both.

Sinking down on the couch again, Lily sighed and buried her face in her hands. She couldn't win. Maybe her having a child just wasn't meant to be. Maybe after the war, James and she could adopt. She perked up at that notion for a bit before her shoulders slumped once more. That is, if James still wanted anything to do with her. She knew how much he'd looked forward to children. A boy, perhaps, with knobby knees and untidy dark hair, with her green eyes. Or a girl, with freckles spattered on her face and flaming red hair. Jame's mischievous nature or her hot temper.

They even had a room upstairs halfheartedly declared the nursery, decorated with bits and pieces they'd brought home as they found it. Wallpaper printed with blue umbrellas and pale yellow ducks. A spinning mobile full of toy faeries. A crib, painted white with gold trim. Would it all grow dusty up there, neglected and forgotten? Would they sell it off, or donate it to some other worthy soul, someone who was actually capable of bearing a child? Lily couldn't bear to think of that. As awful as it was to think of it dust-shrouded and forgotten, it was ten times worse to think of someone else using it, some other mother and child that wasn't her. If that made her terrible, so be it. She didn't care.

"Lily?" she heard the front door creak open as James slipped in. She knew he would be excited and apprehensive, wind-tousled from his foray outside, hazel eyes sparking with the exhilaration of his Order duties. James had taken very well to being an Auror, sometimes she thought a bit too well. But against You Know Who? It was probably all for the best. The carefree, careless Marauder had grown up into a man anyone could be proud of.

But what would he say now? She froze, locked in place by her own apprehension as he rounded the corner.

The look in her eyes told him everything.

"Oh, Lily, I'm so sorry," he said and wrapped her up in his arms, pressing her face into the comforting warmth of his robes. Lily broke down, the tears finally sliding down her cheeks, scouring her skin with their saltiness.

"I'm sorry I can't be a good wife for you," Lily wept into his chest.

"Wait a minute, I'm sorry, what was that?" James said, almost sternly, pulling away a little. Lily looked up at him with wet green eyes, confused.

"I'm sorry I can't be a good wife for you," Lily repeated, voice wobbling. Was this it? Was this the moment he pulled away for good?

"Lily, you have nothing to apologise for," James said fiercely, his grip tightening on her shoulders. "Nothing. You are a good wife. You always have been. Don't ever think you aren't a good wife because we can't have children. It's all right."

"D'you promise?" Lily asked, trembling. "Promise on a shooting star?" It was the promise they had whimsically made before their wedding, and one they used time and again when talking about serious matters. James smiled, a half-quirk of his lips that made Lily's heart trip a beat.

"I promise on the moon," he replied, kissing the tip of her nose.

The two cuddled on the sofa, drifting into a dreamy contentment, untouched by the war outside, completely unaware of what would happen so soon in the future, and how the world would shatter.