I wish I was J.K Rowling, but I'm not. This is her creation not mine. And if this bloody disclaimer repeats itself again, please forgive me. Computers aren't my strong point.
James Potter's sleep was far from peaceful these days. It seemed like all the dreams from his younger days had crumbled away to nothing, and when he dreamed it was a very dark place. He knew he should have stuck to the Auror training programme. It seemed an eternity ago now. There he was – just fresh out of Hogwarts – one arm wrapped around the beautiful Mary McDonald, both of them ready to take on the world. If only they hadn't rushed into it, if they had waited. If they had both…grown up a little. Snape had told him on his wedding day – Lily had dragged him along – they were making a mistake. Said the only thing they had in common was a mutual adoration of James Potter.
James had told him to go jump in the lake. And even now, he knew Snape hadn't been completely right. James loved Mary so much it hurt. It hurt that he hadn't been able to give her the kind of life he wanted to. The kind of life Sirius was living with his South-American wife somewhere in Darkest Peru. That news had come as a bit of a shock, but his once-handsome, battle-scarred best friend and his pretty South-American bride were nauseatingly happy, and ran a busy pub together in Lima.
But he, James, he had started training to be an Auror, full of grand plans to be the best dark-wizard catcher the world had ever seen. But compared to his imaginings, of battle and glory, the reality was…rather boring. And James hated to be bored. He killed his first Death-eater a month or two out of school, and looking back, he realised that was where he had started to go wrong. After all, why would a blooded warrior, proven in combat, need to worry about all those stupid rules and endless lectures? Surely there were more important things to worry about. And when Voldemort had fallen, he would be amongst the heroes, rewarded and hailed beyond his wildest dreams.
But things had not exactly gone according to plan.
The shadow cast by Voldemort had grown darker than ever before. James had completely abandoned his Auror training by then, using money from his family's vault to provide for himself, Mary and little Lucy Margaret, then aged four. The war was hot, and people were dying. The order couldn't be at all places at all times, and so people died who needn't have.
Even James had to admit Snape had gone over and above the call of duty. Remus had once remarked he thought the man was superhuman, training at the hospital all day and battling Death Eaters all night.
Lily told Mary, too, Snape spent hours reading ancient books with rather disturbing titles. Ancient magic. Black magic. Blacker than black magic.
And then, one day, he disappeared. For almost a whole year, he disappeared, leaving behind a mystified supervisor, several frantic friends, a baffled ex-headmaster, a worried but mutinously silent wife and a cherubic son who – like Lucy – was too young to understand the darkness that gripped the country.
When he finally returned there had been something in his eyes that hadn't been there before. Something bright, and almost…fanatical.
And then…and then…
He couldn't think about that battle, only lived it every night in his dreams. He couldn't believe he had seen it. Couldn't believe that he had been able to do anything more than cower behind a headstone in the graveyard at Malfoy Manor while his old rival and schoolfellow battled the Dark Lord himself.
And when Voldemort cast that last death curse, he thought it was all over, but Snape cast something of his own, and the flash of pure white met the evil green directly in between the two men and held. For the longest second ever it held. For a second it seemed either could win, but then their eyes met, and it was almost as though Voldemort had seen something in Snape's gaze that he just couldn't defy.
As though in a dream, James had watched as the silver charm forced Voldemort's own curse back upon him.
And the Darkest Lord was no more, never again.
It was the same old dream, the same old nightmare, only this time there was somebody there who wasn't usually there. Somebody familiar, but not from that awful night. And he said something James didn't usually hear in that dream.
He sat bolt upright, suddenly wide awake, sweating all over. "Mary!"
She was curled up in an armchair in front of the sofa. The radio was switched on, and a woman was singing something slow and sultry. There was a half-empty cup of tea next to her free hand. The other held a small book.
She looked up in surprise at her husband's shout. He hadn't been drinking lately, trusting instead to some dreamless-sleep potion Severus had given him to banish the nightmares. She knew he was haunted by ghosts from the battlefields. She understood that…but there were limits to her patience. The bottle had run out a couple of nights ago, and as far as she knew the dreams hadn't returned. But then, James didn't tell her everything.
He was on his feet now, looking around in wild panic. "Lucy!" he cried. "Mary…something's wrong. Something's terribly wrong!"