A/N: I love how I'm so terrible at creating chapter titles that I just take the title of the song that I have in the beginning and slap it up there. Please try to ignore it! Anyway, here's the story.

I give her all my love
That's all I do
And if you saw my love
You'd love her too
I love her

James

Lily waves to me as she passes my spot at the stretched Gryffindor table. I smile at her, and wave back. When she looks away, my grin slips off my face as quick as you can say Hufflepuff.

"You seem depressed this morning." comments Sirius exasperatedly, as I frown at my pancakes.

"Good observation." I retort moodily, my eyes not wavering from the bloody pancakes.

Peter made the pancakes smile at me, with two banana pieces for the eyes and syrup for the mouth. I look at it with disgust. How can a pancake be happier than I am? It's absurd. I proceed to glare at it.

"You look like you literally want to murder your pancakes." says Remus in all seriousness, sipping his pumpkin juice. "James, that's not normal."

"Really?" I snap sarcastically. "I was under the impression that everyone made mental death threats to their breakfast foods."

"WHY must you hate on these beautiful things?" gasps Peter in utter shock, cutting himself a piece of my plate. As he chews, he adds, "See? Pancakes make you happy!"

"This is the stupidest conversation I've ever had." I say bluntly, pushing away the pancakes.

"No," said Remus, with a smirk. "The stupidest conversation you've ever had was when Padfoot asked 'What if sweaters could speak?'"

"IT'S A VALID QUESTION!" retorts Sirius.

Remus stares at him in disbelief. "WHO gives a rat's arse about sweaters and their ability to stay silent?!"

"It would just be really cool if they could talk, you know?"

"No, I don't. Please enlighten me on the subject." said Remus. Sirius opened his mouth to reply, but Remus cuts him off. "On the other hand, why don't we just talk about something else."

"You're just jealous that you hadn't thought of it before." pouted Sirius, sticking out his chin and looking away. "My creativity takes you by storm and you don't know what else to do than attack me. You're acting out.

The rest of breakfast goes by normally. Sirius pokes fun at Moony, who tries to hide the fact that he's irritated by spitting back sassy comments. Even I can't help but roar with laughter at their antics. Peter is always quieter in the mornings, like me. We aren't exactly morning people.

This morning, when our alarm blared, I literally chucked it across the room.

"Mornin' sunshine," yawned Sirius, rubbing his eyes and stretching his arms into the air. Remus' eyes were wide like saucers.

There was this one time where Sirius had to practically force me out of my bed. He had to grab a hold of my legs and quite literally drag me along the floor. Remus took a hold of the matter with blasting a horn in my ear. Peter and Sirius had to hold me back from strangling him. Ah, good times, yeah?

Moony smooths out the Prophet with a soft crackle, peering closely at an article. His soft eyes squinted curiously, a frown sculpting onto his delicate face. A part of me doesn't want to know what happened today. That part of me just wants to be completely oblivious to everything, to listen to Mum's advice, to live as if nothing was going on. Another part of me is screaming at the fact that, while I'm learning about Ancient Runes, there is a family out there struggling to survive this war. They have to throw everything behind them, and virtually disappear for even a chance at life. I find that my eyes scope the Great Hall meticulously, unlike I have for the past week. I observe how many faces that sat at tables were absent, and how many smiles were not full or true. I clutch my fork tightly, as if it were You-Know-Who's wretched heart. How I would squeeze it. How I would suck the life out of him like he forced upon so many others.

Suddenly, breakfast comes to a close, and there are loud shuffles of feet. Voices rise again, and bags are slung over shoulders or heaved over their backs. My peers begin to migrate out of the Great Hall, toward their first period classes. Sirius pops up with a careless flick to his hair, grabbing his worn rucksack and trudging towards the exit. Moony grabs his satchel, and Peter grunts a little as he picks up his books. I sigh, following them out of the hall towards Muggle Studies.

I sit myself down in the third row, deciding that in the third row I wouldn't be considered an overachiever, nor a slacker. I make myself comfortable, yawn, and plunk my book onto my desk unwillingly. I really don't want to be here. It's September and I literally can feel how long school is going to be this year, and I'm absolutely dreading it.

Lily sits in front of me, grinning cordially as she passed me. Her hair looks rather nice in a golden red french twist. A few stray curls frame her face. She sits next to Mary MacDonald, a friend of hers that I've talked to on some occasions. She's alright, but she kind of scares me because she talks so much and so fast that I can't keep up.

Moony sits down next to me, in an angry huff.

"Ugh." he says, whipping out his things. "I mean, really! Sweaters?! It's absurd! Of course no one gives a bloody grindylow's crap if sweaters could strike up a conversation with someone. I mean-"

"Settle down, everyone." commanded Professor Hawthorne, walking in and making is. I can feel all the girls in the room take a sharp intake of breath. Professor Hawthorne came a few years back. He's a young bloke, fresh out of the university. He's surprisingly a stellar teacher, but I can't help but feel a twinge of annoyance when he gets all the bloody attention.

I suck in a breath as Lily lets down her glittering red hair, as Professor Hawthorne speaks about our homework (I think). I wonder if she knows how beautiful she is. Sometimes I don't know if girls know that they're beautiful. Not just Lily, but every girl I've ever met has been beautiful in some way, and I wonder if they know that.. Their eyes, their smile, the way they laugh, or talk. Their passion, their intelligence, the way they move. Women are majestical creatures, Sirius and I have concluded. Most are very self conscious, too, and that makes me feel very sad for them. More so than blokes, I've heard. I presume it's rather hard to be a girl. You have to worry so much about being pretty or fit and having exactly the right dress and certain makeup and the girls around you do nothing but judge. They try to be whoever they aren't when they're most beautiful exactly who they are-when they're not trying, I feel like birds are the fittest.

But I've never met a girl who was beautiful in every way I could think of, and that's Lily.

I wonder if it's always going to be like this. If I'm going to be friends with her, and watch her grow, year after year. She'll probably train to be an Auror, like me. She'll meet that perfect guy that she's always wanted and deserved, and they'll get married and probably have kids. Lily will smile at me at work when she sees me, and I'll smile back. We'll talk about how much has changed since Hogwarts, when really nothing has. Lily will go on and have a wonderful life, and she can have one without me. But I'm not sure I'll be able to have a wonderful life without her.

"Mr. Potter?"

I suddenly look up, dazed, and find Professor Hawthorne frowning at me.

"Sorry, Professor. What was it that you were saying?" I ask hurriedly, embarrassed that I'd been called on and not even known it.

"Mr. Potter, could you tell me what a film is?" he queries me, leaning on the front of his desk looking all smug. Fucking git. I feel the burn of every set of eyes in the classroom, and I curse the heavens. Everyone is well aware that this is one of my weaker subjects. Once, we had to do a project on Muggle electrity (I think? Is it electricity? Dunno, I'm STILL bloody confused)and I brought in a walkie-talkie and explained how the voices were somehow magically transported to each other. It made no sense, and it was the lowest grade I've ever gotten. I shudder at the thought.

Okay, back to the subject. Films. Muggle films. Er...

I search for words, but it all tumbles out in a jumbled mess. "Well, you see-er-I-I reckon-it's like, a photograph, correct? Like ours, though, because it moves-somewhat, I imagine? The people or animals in it interact, right?"

Professor Hawthorne stares at me for a while longer before saying, "I suppose that fragmented response is more or less correct. What is one of the most important and intriguing things about films that muggles worked diligently on in the early part of the century?"

"I-er-I think it was called audio?"

"Correct, Mr. Potter!" He smiles at me. "Audio is also known as being able to hear the sound effects of a film. Let's take a look, shall we?"

In front of the blackboard, there's a contraption called a projector sitting on a black stand. I feel the curiosity plague the room around me, and I can't help being a bit curious myself. I have not the slightest idea of what a film is.

There's suddenly moving pictures, and there's this guy. He has a hat on, and he's talking to this woman (who's very fit, might I add), and they're in Morocco, I think. And you can hear them! And then there's this plane, and then this bloke looks at the woman and she's all "Don't go," and he's like, "But I have to," and then they're snogging, but it's not awkward because I'm so amazed that I'm actually seeing this at all. It's so real! Everything about it! You can literally hear everything, from the plane's blades swishing in rapid circles to the wind to the desperation in the woman's voice and the longing in the blokes. It's like you're there, watching everything happen. Professor Hawthorne presses a button, and the screen goes black.

I can't help but want to shout in protest. I want to know if the bloke leaves the poor bird there, all by herself.

I found myself in the Head's office at third period, sorting out the scheduling for the Quidditch matches this year. McGonagall told me that it should be done by tomorrow, and I have only half of it done. I also have to do tryouts the day after, and tryouts are always a massive hassle. There are always the people who assume they can waltz onto the team with no experience, there are usually a pack of girls who just want to get onto the team so they can shag me (they're rubbish at the sport, too), and then there's the people who I know are trying as hard as they can but they just don't make the cut and it kills me to say no.

I sit myself down in the study room, simply because of the fact that I like it better. It isn't nearly as claustrophobic, and the light is warm and welcoming as it glitters out through the french windows.

I hear someone open the door as I write down the first Saturday in November as a match date, and I tilt my head up. Lily looks rather disheveled, her hair mussed and a flush on her face. I notice a purple mark on her neck and feel my stomach plummet and my lunch almost come up my throat.

She's been making out with Price, hasn't she? Brilliant. Just fucking great.

Her green eyes spot me, and they light up. "Hey!"

"Hi, Lily. How's your day been?" I ask, trying to seem composed.

"Great." she replies, sitting in the chair across from my own. "Until I got all the work for Hogsmeade trips to sort out."

"Heads work is a bitch."

"Agreed." she laughs, shuffling through her bag for a quill. She apparently can't find one, so I hold my own out.

She realizes this and immediately says, "Oh, no, I couldn't-"

"Lily. Just take it." Lily stares at me, and then the quill. Her hand hesitates reaching forward.

"Are you sure? I could just run up to the dormitories-"

"That's just silly, Evans there's a quill right here and you can take it." I say forwardly. "I have a spare one anyway."

She gives me a shaky smile before gently taking it. "Thanks, James."

I take out another quill and dip it into the dark purple ink that McGonagall asked me to use. It's supposively a permanent kind of ink. It's used for most of the records in the school.

We work for a couple of minutes, the scratching of our quills the only things being heard. I look up to see her long curls piled into a messy bun, her face solemn as she observed the calendar and made her arrangements for the Hogsmeade trips. Her brilliant eyes flickered upward suddenly. I immediately looked away, bowing down over my work. Pretending that she wasn't sitting across from me.

"I want to thank you for being so cooperative the other night." says Lily randomly. I hope she didn't notice my little jump of surprise. "I mean, I did wake you up in the dead of the night, exclaiming about a random dream that happened to be a drunken memory." She frowns. "I hope you don't think too poorly of me. I''m sorry about all of it."

I'm not sorry about it. I dream of your lips on mine every bloody night. I think to myself ashamedly.

"I know this is a bit random, but is it true that you have never seen a film before?" Her voice slices the silence randomly. Lily's head is tilted slightly to her left, her expression inquisitive.

"No, I haven't, actually." I reply, sort of embarrassed. She's probably seen loads of movies.

"We should try to see one sometime. I've been meaning to take Marlene and Jill to see that new movie that's out called-oh, what was it? Oh! Star Wars!"

My interest peaks at 'Wars'. Action and adventure. It sounds intense. I like it. "Yeah, that'd be great. Er-but there's a slight problem."

"What?"

"There are no cinemas in Hogwarts, Lily."

She laughs, her forest green eyes crinkling amusedly. "I mean over the holidays or something. You could come over to my place and we could hang out."

I stare at her, nearly gaping. "Just...you and me?"

Lily shrugs. "I mean, I thought that we could bring our friends but if you want we can go just you and me." She clapped her hands together as an idea came to her. "Or we could have a double date! Ethan and I, and you with someone!"

She must be joking.

When I realize that she isn't, I feel my intestines twist. Birds are so clueless sometimes. "Yeah, sounds fun." I try to smile at her, but it fails.

I'm not used to being so awkward. Is this what Peter feels like speaking with birds every day?

Lily notices my expression as I turn back to work, I think, because she says, "If you don't want to, we don't have to. I was just spit balling."

The corners of my mouth twitch. "Spit balling?"

"What?" she asks me. She shakes her head. "I don't know why everyone looks at me like I'm from the loony-bin whenever I say that."

"Lily." I say, in mock-seriousness. "You are from the loony-bin."

"Maybe that's where we met." she teases, resting her head on her hand gracefully. I wonder what it would be like to be that hand. To feel her skin.

"You're a riot. Har-har." I banter back, blushing. I hate it how I can feel my neck heat up and then I know my cheeks are bright scorching red. I want to shove it down and be cool and collected. Like Sirius. With women, he always knows what to do. His conversation is so fluid with them, even with the ones he genuinely fancies. With other birds I feel like I'm talking to another bloke, but with Lily I find myself sounding more and more like an idiot.

We write for some time, the humorous air around us fading. Our expressions become solemn again, as we continue to plow through the grueling paperwork that was shoved into out hands.

Agrippa, is this what being a Head is actually like? Where can I resign, because I can assure you that this job pretty much sucks.

But I always have to remind myself that if it weren't for this job, Lily and I might still be at each other's throats, spitting insults that we didn't mean. Her ruining my self-confidence, and I snarling about how she is a inconcievable wasp. I wonder if it hurt her as much as it hurt me to let those things slip out of my mouth. I would do anything to take it back.

"You're not so bad, Potter." she says in a quiet voice. I take a deep breath, relieved that she didn't think too poorly of me anymore. "Maybe I misjudged you."

"So you're sure you won't go out with me?"

I can practically see the shields go up as her face reddens with anger. She jolts up, her eyes fiery with pique. "I knew it! You're making a fool out of me, aren't you? God damn it, Potter! I-NO! Absolutely not-"

It scares me how much she can revert back to her rash tone of voice with me. Of course I didn't actually mean what I just said. I was teasing.

"Evans, relax." I say uneasily, putting my hands out as if she were to explode any moment. I rise out of my seat, walking towards her. "I was only kidding."

I see the anger drain out of her like water from a drain. She takes a breath of relief, looking up at me. There's a blur of her porcelain skin, and suddenly there's a sharp sting atop of my head. I didn't expect a smack.

My hand flies to my dark head. "OW! What was that for?!"

"For being a tosser." She declares confidently, a pleased expression on her face. "Ah, it's peculiar how that never gets old."

"Causing me physical harm?" I rub the pulsing spot on my head tenderly. I fondly remember how many times she's hit me upon the head at this precise spot.

Her smile lifts my heart, and I feel like I'm flying. "Maybe."

"You saucy minx." I say in a sultry voice bound to make any woman uncomfortable.

"Gracious, you needn't sound like a sexual predator to hide your apparent rage that your head hurts from a girl's blow."

I wag my finger at her. "This is why I like you."

Lily grins at this, which surprises me. On a usual basis she would snap at me, but this time she gives me a grin? Women are tricky. Very tricky. "Come on. I'm tired of working. Do you want to sit by the willow tree on the grounds?"

I shove my hands in my pocket, and walk casually beside her as we stroll onto the grounds. Several students are lying about, pretending to study. The Black Lake is glittering in all of it's glory, and the clouds in the crystal blue sky are disappearing. Lily's eyes are squinted as she gazes at it.

I take out my packet of smokes and slide one of them out onto my palm. Mum said I should quit, but...I dunno. I've been doing it for so long, and it's practically harmless. I think. Well, not really, but I don't give a damn.

I light it up and stick it in between my lips, the view slightly clouded with a pleasant and sheer layer of smoke. Beautiful. I look over at Lily, realizing we had made it to the tree. She sits down comfortably, sprawling out onto the grass under the tree. I join her, feeling the cool breeze ripple through my hair.

Suddenly, I hear Lily shriek, "What are you doing?!" She grabs my smoke and looks at me much like my mother does when she catches me with one.

"It's nothing, Evans, relax." I try to take it back, but she holds it further away from me.

She cries, "Are you mad, Potter?"

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't."

She frowns at me before reluctantly holding it out to me. "You're going to get cancer, you know. And die."

"Don't be dramatic." I drawl, breathing out the smoke, watching it swirl and paint the air like a paintbrush. "It's not so bad."

Lily huffs, the sun reflecting in her eyes. She looks away, her mouth pursed. "You're an idiot."

"I know."

She tilts her head over her shoulder. "Then why do you do it?"

I shrug, sucking in on my cigarette, letting the smoke drift out of my mouth slowly. The smoke creeps out of my lips like a crawler, disappearing into thin air. "I started years ago. I was fourteen, I think. Dad told me not to smoke, ever, like he did. So naturally, I started three days after. Sirius joined in, as did Peter. It was stupid."

Lily's head is tilted to the side, like it always is when she's thinking. I can practically see her mind wrapping around the concept. "If it's so stupid, why haven't you quit?"

She didn't ask me forcefully, or judgementally, I don't think. Her voice was gentle, understanding. I reply, "Dunno. It's just...been there for me more than most things, you know?"

"You don't need cigarretes as crutches." Lily looks out onto the lake, drinking it in with her observant and wide eyes. She takes a deep breath and tells me, "You're not alone, Potter. In...whatever you're going through."

"Well it sure as hell feels like it." I mutter stubbornly, not wanting to relive the memories of what caused me to be this way. To smoke and drink away my problems.

It's what I usually did when Dad and I got into a row.

"DAD!" I roared, my eyes aflame. "LOOK AT ME, YOU COWARD!" I had gotten home late today, from a party. Sirius couldn't go because he caught a stomach bug, and I'd arrived an hour after curfew. My mother was fast asleep. I found my father waiting for me, but I never expected he would be so angry with me. But I feel like it was more than my curfew. He had just been waiting for the precise moment to strike, like a lioness waited on her prey to be the most vulnerable. He had been pulling away from Mum and I for a while...call it old age, grumpiness, or something else. My mother would sit in her room and cry for hours, saying how she missed the man she fell in love with. It was like one day he was with us and the next he was a bitter old man, who did nothing but spit insults and brood. It hadn't happened for a while now, but it had put some significant strains to our family. I had tripped over the carpet. I fell to the floor with a loud thump, but my father didn't even stir. I had fallen near the fireplace and my arm had shortly caught fire. I bat it out with my hand, hissing at the agony. My Dad still didn't notice, his back turned.

"You aren't to ever disobey me, or your mother EVER AGAIN. Understand?" He said in that cold tone that I always despised. I shot him the most terrible glare I could, trying to blink away the tears.

"How fucking typical of you!" I yelled at him horribly, my jaw wound so tight that I feared it may stay that way forever. I rose up from the ground, rage rattling my bones."Blame me! Torture me! For your fucking mistakes!"

He marches up to me, seeming kilometres taller than I was. I felt a petrified shiver fly down my spine. "Don't give me that bloody tone of voice."

I shoved him with all of the force I can. "STOP IT! Just stop!"

"Why can't you be like Sirius, huh?" He taunts me, his voice cruel, as he caught his balance."He's been through hell and back and he's nothing but greatful and respectful-"

"Well he's not your son, is he, Dad?!"

"That's a downright shame, too!"

"Sorry you're STUCK WITH ME!" I roar, my face a tomato red.

"James?"

I suddenly see Lily's gentle face. I realize that I was holding onto one breath as the memory greeted me with a savage and sick grin. I breathe out, welcoming the fresh and crisp air. My heart is beating violently, my whole body trembling at an eerie beat.

"Hmm?"

"You alright?" she asks, knowing full well that I'm not. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

I squish the fag that I was holding into the dirt next to me. I press it down harder and harder. "Just...nostalgic, I guess."

"Why?"

"Stuff." I admit, unsure of how Lily is with blokes and people like me with problems and issues. "Problems, I mean. At home."

"Ah," she replies sadly, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Problems. We all have them."

"Have you ever..."I cut myself off, unsure whether to proceed with the question in my mind. "Have you ever felt like...if you left-if you died-that no one would notice that you had gone?"

She doesn't freak out at me. She doesn't stare at me as if I'm some sort of weird, emotional, mushy bloke that everyone should steer clear from. Lily bites her lip and whispers, "All the time."

It surprises me that she has felt this way, because of her social status. She's fairly popular herself, at Hogwarts. There's not one bloke I've met who thought Lily wasn't dazzling, nor one girl I've met who hasn't thought she was one of the nicest girls they've met. But, I suppose that I'm not exactly a nerd. Maybe everyone feels like they're invisible sometimes.

"Prongs, I've been worried about you." explains Sirius, with a sigh. It's sunset, and we're sitting on the edge of the lake, though we should be at supper. Bright orange, soft pink, gentle yellow, and blazing red tint the surface of the phlegmatic water. Sirius' hair is whipping with the wind, his gaze distracted at the horizon. He took a puff of smoke from his cigarrette, breathing it into the air. "I thought that maybe you were having some kind of weird, homesick feelings, but I think it's more than that. You didn't even laugh when we had McGonagall's lunch blow up in her face." He turns his dark head towards me, his grey eyes pensive. "That was bloody hilarious and you know it." There was another pause. "You've been unhealthily melancholy, and I can't imagine why."

"I know, I'm sorry." I reply quietly, trying to get more comfortable on the cold grass. The cigarrete in between my fingers is homey, and warm. I take a hit of it. "It's just...everything. With being just friends with Lily, and then Dad..."

"You're thinking about your Dad?" asks Sirius, his tone cautious. "Look, mate...you know there's nothing I wouldn't do for you. You're...you're the brother I never had-"

Although I'm flattered, I have to point out, "Padfoot, you have a brother."

Sirius growls immediately, "You are more to me than he ever has been."

"Sirius-"

"But that's not the point." says Padfoot firmly, his voice as solid as a rock. He's like a detective, desperate for clues. "Why were you thinking about your Dad?"

"Well...Lily saw me smoke today." I begin, rubbing the back of my neck.

Sirius gives a short laugh. "I reckon she was all, 'James Potter! You're going to kill yourself! You stupid prick!'"

"Ah, basically," I chortle lightly. The laughter fades away more rapidly than I would have liked. "But she was a bit nicer to me."

"That's new." comments Sirius, nodding his head. "This is good, Prongs. You may not be able to shag her, but at least she doesn't hate you anymore."

"You know that's not what I'm about with her." I say, my voice dour.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Prongsie," laughs Sirius, nudging his shoulder with mine with a hearty laugh. "I know."

"Good."

"So...after, how did you think of your Dad?"

"She asked why I smoked in the first place. And then...and then there were flashes."

"Bad?" His voice was sore, as if he didn't want to hear it. Like whatever happened to me happened to him in return. "Well, I can't imagine there's many good flashes..."

"Yeah." I reveal. Sirius looks away from me. "It was about that night. When I got the burn."

Sirius is silent for a couple of minutes, which was very unlike him. He stares out across the water, studying the mountains with an undying interest. His brow is together, which usually means he's worried. He swallows visibly. "I never meant to be a burden to you, James. That wasn't what I wanted-"

"You are no such thing." I retort immediately, guilty that I brought this up. "You mean more to me than anyone I've ever met."

"Really?" he chokes out, as if he's crying.

"I promise." I say, putting my hand on his shoulder and squeezing it. "It's my Dad and his fucked up thoughts. It's nothing you did that made him say those things two years ago."

"Maybe if I hadn't moved in-"

"Padfoot." I say, shaking my head as I puff another smoke. "Don't."

"Well whose fault is it, then, Prongs?" asks Sirius, an edge to his voice. "It's certainly not yours. It's not your Mum's-she's a doll, and does nothing but dote on and care for everybody that walks in your front door. And there's only one person left-"

"Stop." I say. "You're not the reason why. Padfoot, when are you going to stop beating yourself up over everything?"

"You want me to be honest with you?"

"It's not like I'd ask you to lie to me. That's just weird."

He smirks a bit, putting his smoke to his lips. "I'm not going to stop beating myself up, Prongs. Not as long as I'm still alive and breathing."

"Dad and I had our problems far before you came along. Do you remember when I told you about the time he got so angry that he threw that chair at me?"

"Yeah." says Sirius sadly. "But honestly, Prongs, I don't think your Dad means it. I think he loves you. He's just...he needs help."

I inhale, watching the end of my fag glow a bright orange. "He hasn't acted out on me in years." And it was true. In the past year I couldn't recollect myself and him stuck in the middle of a massive row that involved some physical contact. It's probably because my ol' Dad is getting old. He was already old when he had me with Mum, even by Wizarding standards.

"You guys are my family, you know. Problems come with it, and I can embrace that." says Sirius. "If your Dad acts out one more time, I'll still love him, but I'll scream with you. You shouldn't have to stand your ground alone. In the past I've felt like I owe some kind of debt to your parents...they've been so good to me. But since I've adopted them as my own parents, I have to face the facts that we're going to get in fights. So next time you and Dad get in a row, I'll stand by you. Deal?"

"Deal."

We hear the crickets chirp, the winds rustle leaves, and the wolves howl into the night. There's only a sliver left of light on the horizon. It glows like a beacon at the end of a long road. It reminds me of our whole situation. The War, and Voldemort, his Death Eaters. The people that die every day. The tears that drip from people's faces. It makes me wonder if there is a light. If there is an end to it. When the war started, Mum was going on about it like a madwoman. Dad soothed her, saying that it was only a matter of time before the War ended. He has always said that all wars end. But this war is so unlike all the others. Or maybe it's just the sad fact that I'm in the middle of one right now that makes it so unalike all previous ones.

"Padfoot?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think we'll make it? Do you think we'll survive this war?" I ask, my voice sounding like it did years ago. Innocent, ripe, and full of hesitation and hope all at the same time.

"I think," Sirius says with a stark grin. "That we won't go down without a fight."

Writing James and Sirius conversations hit me right in the feels. I'm crying omg I cant. I mean it's already hard enough writing about Lily and James! But James and Sirius were so close, and...in the books when Sirius is without James I'm basically dying of sadness. Anyway, let me know what you thought!

Thanks,

Summer