DISCLAIMER: These characters do not belong to me, they are the inventions of J.K. Rowling. Although I have added my own ideas, the story is hers.

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Chapter 10

James

"She'll be alright in a few hours, don't you worry young man." But she doesn't look alright, whatever the healers say. Her face is pale, her breathing shallow and her eyes haven't opened in two hours, forty three minutes. It's a new curse that the Deatheaters have developed, they say, though they haven't discovered a cure yet, finding that victims tended to recover within about five hours. But that isn't any sort of consolation when my fiancée lies unconscious in the hospital, looking as though the life is simply fading from her.

"Lily…" I murmur, taking her hand. But she doesn't stir, and I sit by her side for what seems like an eternity, never taking my eyes from her vacant face, never turning to watch the hustle and bustle of the ward, never letting myself think that she may not wake up.

There was a time when I hated her for being so blind, a time when I hated her for letting me love her so much without returning it. And now I love her more than I ever thought was possible, because when she smiles, I know that it's for me, and when I laugh, I know that she's laughing with me. It's certainly better than spending every day wondering whether she really did hate me, wondering whether I'd spend the rest of my life trying to convince her of my feelings, and hope that they would be requited. It's better now, knowing that we have our whole lives to spend together, years and years of happiness. Because the war can't last forever, and when it does, then perhaps we can find a home somewhere and see what happens. The future could be anything, and I can't wait to see where fate will take the two of us.

"She's okay?" Sirius comes into the ward, an anxious look etched onto his features.

"She will be."

"Good." Sirius sits down beside me and I expect him to start talking, but he doesn't. It's good to have a familiar face around though, instead of the too smiley healers and crying visitors. The hospital doesn't have the number of injured in it that you'd expect during times of war. Not as many that a muggle war would produce. The reason for this: most don't survive if the Deatheaters decide they want them dead. Nobody really stands a chance at all. Of course, it would help if our side was a little more willing to use the killing curse, but then we'd be just as bad as them. It would be easier again if we could work out a counter curse to it, and I'm certain that the Ministry is working on it. They won't find anything though.

"Prongs?" Sirius asks, wary of my reluctance to talk, but I nod and he continues, "So what happens now? They must know that there's an army fighting back now, other than the Ministry. So what will they do now?"

"Hunt us down, perhaps. Find out who the members are, probably try to kill those they find, or alternatively, torture us for information. Though they may wait until they are certain of what we're capable of, there's no denying that they've noticed us now, and there's no going back. Perhaps we shouldn't have gone to Diagon Alley, it was exactly what they wanted, and it achieved nothing."

"But don't you see James? We have to show them that we're capable of something beside running, that they'll have to try a little harder if they want to take this country. The whole point of the fight in Diagon Alley was to show them that we're a force to be reckoned with, and they won't make the mistake of forgetting that again."

"If you say so."

Lily doesn't wake up until the evening, raising her hand to rub the sleep from her eyes. I smile with relief and kiss her forehead. Everything will be alright now.

Remus

I wander aimlessly around the city until dawn; I have no where to go, besides a dingy, one room flat which I can barely afford. My parents' meagre savings are running out and I can't get any work. I'm not even much use to the Order, seeing as most of them aren't certain about where my loyalties lie, and we don't Know whether the Deatheaters are still after me. So, yeah, I'm basically completely useless.

"Woah Remus! Watch where you're going!" I apologise to Jasmine, but she just smiles exasperatedly and casts a quick charm to dry the coffee she spilt when I crashed into her, "Have you even been home yet?"

"No, my home smells like cat piss. You?"

"I'm not really sure what my home smells like... Lemons, I suppose."

"No, have you been home yet?"

"Oh," She laughs, "I have a house in Cornwall, so I'm just sticking around until Lily's definitely okay. Can I stay at your place?"

"You can if you want to... But it's kind of a dump."

"I don't care, I'm exhausted." Jasmine links arms with me, grinning. I show her though the lesser known streets of London, mostly inhabited by Muggle crooks, prostitutes, heroin addicts and other unfortunates that have, for some reason or another, sunk to the bottom of society. Certainly not the area that I would normally show to visitors to the City, but it's my home now, and therefore an unavoidable route to reach my lodgings. Jasmine doesn't mind much though, she grew up in a variety of shitty places when she was growing up, from what I know of her childhood, which is very little.

My room is at the top of a rickety staircase. One bed, a sink, chair and dresser. The nine tenants here share the toilet downstairs, which is just as charming as you'd expect. I toss my jacket on the chair and return Jasmine's grimace.

"Home sweet home. Would you like something? Water?" She politely declines, which is probably best, seeing as I don't have a glass.

"What happened to your parents' place?"

"Turns out it actually belonged to my Uncle, and he, well... He doesn't want someone like me living in it. It was different when my parents were around, but now it's just me..."

"Oh."

"Yeah." She stands awkwardly for a few moments, a sad look in her eyes. The Order had to know about me, it was only fair. But things will never be the same again with some people, now that they know what I am. Besides turning into an uncontrollable wolf every full moon, everyone's instant dislike for anyone like me is probably the worst side effect of being a werewolf. Not that there are any positive side effects.

"Did you want to get some sleep?" She nods, "I'm going out for a bit, try and get some rest. I'll be back soon."

When I come back mid morning, Jasmine is fast asleep on my bed, her dark hair lying on the pillow around her like a mane. I sit down on the chair, resisting the urge to reach out and stroke her face, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She breathes steadily, in and out, in and out. I wonder if she's dreaming, and what she's dreaming about. Me, perhaps? But I chase that thought away, it's stupid and pointless.

It isn't long before I fall asleep myself, but I don't dream at all.