Chapter 36

"At Full Speed"

abc.

"At Full Speed", by Jack's Mannequin.

Abc.

"How are we in love?"

December met us uneventfully, not a drastic change in the weather nor mood. It hadn't snowed any amount yet and the temperature dropped but not so much that I refused to leave the flat. And though I was happier in general, more comfortable I did not quite reach elation or some kind of euphoric point of no return. I was still doing the same things, I was still waking up in the morning in the same bed, in the same flat, in the same city, in the same country, continent, world...

I was still paying rent with money my dad had given me, still feeding myself almost frivolously with the finite supply one cheque a few months ago had offered me. I was still buying flowers and baking and I was on my own but in ways had never been more trapped.

Who did I think I was? I hadn't seen my parents in ages and yet I took my father's money and was sustaining myself with it. It was what he had intended, I was certain, for me to use the money however I needed – because he owed me. He thought that cheque was going to make up for years and years of distance and separation. He thought it was as good as an apology, maybe, as good as reconnecting. Money and who was I to argue? It was what I needed, not a failed attempt at resurrecting my relationship with long-lost parents and step-parents and siblings and step-siblings...

Had my father even married Rebecca? I couldn't remember whether they were engaged or married and I was ashamed. My mother was an entirely different story because not only was I unaware of her love life but I was also unaware of her location. Back in London? Or in America with family again? Or somewhere else entirely? I thought of my mother and was also ashamed but I was not so much about either of my parents that I felt empty or lonely or desperate for their love and attention again. Because their love and attention were things I had never claimed for long, as it was.

None of us, including my darling lovely sister, were innocent in the deterioration of our family and that was the only comfort I could offer myself.

Lately I had been bursting to get out.

Abc.

"How are we in love?"

December was a month I was trying to appreciate. It was a magical month with snow and holidays and love and food. It was supposed to be, at least. Cold outside but warmed your heart, right? Was it not the most wonderful time of year, anticipation starting as soon as the 30th of November had passed? I could not really remember what there was to be excited over, which had less to do with my unenthusiasm over most everything and more to do with the way things fade with age.

Things fade with age. Memories and excitement and who you once were. Fade with age? I was nineteen, how was that even a reasonable thing to think? I was young, I reminded myself and as my birthday passed and James's approached – it was something I found myself thinking often. Planning the day, the week, the month, the years ahead and I would stop and ration that I was young, we were young – there was so much time for all of that, no need to rush and worry.

Somehow I knew it was a lie, the whole plenty of time, love and peace and happiness bit. I knew it was a lie and therefore I tried to appreciate December.

Sirius and James hung lights at the flat near the middle of December and it was then I realized that yes, time was really passing and another Christmas would soon be upon us. Christmas, again, really? It came every year, I realized, but it seemed strange sometimes when it happened, anyway. Not an unexpected sort of holiday but still one that caught me off guard. As children, our parents were responsible for reminding us and exciting us and maintaining that excitement, for years and years and now that I was on my own I was responsible for capturing the magic of the holiday.

I didn't think I was doing the best job of it though I really did try. There was too much beneath the surface of my happy-go-lucky, let's-decorate-the-tree exterior. There was too much beneath all of our facades, too many unsaid words and wonders and worries. The war, the danger, the fear had reached a certain unspeakable point that month, with the Minister for Magic having to really come to terms with it and go to the muggle Prime Minister when a record number of muggles were offed.

It was the most urgent thing in everyone's lives, in the entire Wizarding World yet it was a subject that we'd stopped talking about at home. We went to Order meetings, we did what we could and then we came home and hung lights and strung popcorn and drank kahluha and oh, what would you like to find this year under the tree? Trivial, awful things like that.

Christmas was not trivial yet even the cheerful holiday could not suppress the unknown the war presented. The war. It was a war.

Abc.

"How are we in love?"

He was propped up against the pillows, just getting a chance to read the day's paper now and I was curled next to him, atop the covers and in my nightgown. He glanced at me, read for a moment longer and then tossed it onto the nightstand, waving his wand to magic the high light off and then threw that onto the stand, too.

"I'm not sure what you mean. How are we in love – Quite simply, I would say but that's not the answer you're looking for, is it? To me, I'll say, it's quite simply we're in love."

I considered him for a moment and wondered when he had started speaking so easily, so assuredly. I always stumbled and faltered and fell over my words but he spoke with me comfortably.

He turned onto his side and faced me, mimicking the way I laid there, in a kind of ball, huddled against the cold and well-aware my silky nightgown wasn't providing much warmth. James was not usually concerned or particularly interested in my bedtime attire, just that certain nights they came off. I wore the nightgown – which was rather matronly in length and coverage, just the cleavage and material suggesting anything special – for lack of anything else. Even as a witch, I wasn't fond of laundry and sometimes still used the washer, having not mastered certain cleansing charms to the point that they actually worked.

"I suppose what I mean...is...how are we in love?" I shook my head at myself, murmuring softly after I spoke, realizing that emphasis on the word did not help to explain the meaning. "Let me think..."

He seemed amused and an impish smile tugged at the corner of his lips and really the dim light of the bedroom – provided only through the uncurtained window and the glow the Christmas lights outside offered – was endlessly flattering, glinting off his glasses and suggesting mystery in his eyes, his features accentuated and breathing clearly slow and steady.

"How are we in love...against all odds, is what I'm trying to ask, I think." Had there even been a point for my question? It was late and I couldn't remember what I was getting at.

"Well, not against all odds. Certainly we've had a few but they're not terribly impressive considering, well, we both made it through alive, yeah? Bridget's Ray died...I lost Jocelyn...We're alive, you and I. Odds have been in our favour, I think."

What was this strange, poorly-timed optimism?

He understood my silence and lip chewing as my being at a loss.

"It's easy for me to think of you as the bright spot of my life now, Lily. It's easy for me to talk about you like you're the lightest, loveliest creature I've come across because you are and I love you. I don't mean to be startling but it's as if I sort of revolve around you and it's just so easy."

More silence and he chuckled to himself and we maintained our curled up, facing each other positions.

"You're delusional a bit, I think. Light and lovely, really?" The surprise in my voice was not light and lovely at all, it was choked because I honestly wondered if he was really seeing me for who I was, after all this time. "James," I sounded chiding and near tears. "Don't...don't fool yourself."

Where earlier in our relationship my, let's call it modesty, may have prompted anger and disbelief from him, toward my bad self-image or something – tonight he was just soft and quiet and willing to listen.

"Sometimes you're not, I'll admit. You dig yourself into dark, sad places and you take a long time coming out of them. You're so proud and independent, too, it was hard for me, initially – I wondered if you would ever come around, if you'd ever start acting like you loved me. But, Lily, you're much more than you even realize. Just, don't argue with me because I don't think we need to spend hours fattening your head up just this minute – but trust me, I'd not be here if I didn't think any of that."

"Hmm," I tapped my fingers against his chest and could not bring myself to look at his eyes because they seemed to be burning me with intensity alone. "Most...couples don't talk like this."

That quiet rumbling laughter again and I felt my cheeks burn slightly. My train of thought was entirely off, being this close to him, hearing him talk like that, realizing he was a better man than I'd even started to realize.

"I could talk to you about anything for a very long time, Lily Evans."

He closed his eyes and I could see he was actually considering sleep, done with the conversation as my thoughts ran around in my mind and tried to get straightened out. Hadn't I had a concern to address? I honestly couldn't remember and felt like sleep, myself.

"Independent, though, really? I mean...It's embarrassing, what I'm doing. You know what I'm doing? Sort of took my father's money and am sustaining myself with it. That's not independence, James. That's indecision."

It seemed that with effort he opened his eyes again, tugged his glasses off and stared at me all unabashed and I felt my breathing speed up.

"I don't care...about money or anything. I mean, you're young. We're young. I was just all set up with no thought involved, you know? I'm doing the very same thing. But I'm sustaining myself with money that I was born into. You just consider yourself less because...because you've reached a crossroads and are more uncertain than I am about the Order. You can be independent and indecisive at the same time, I think. You might not quite be dependent in the ways you want to be but...You don't need me, I guess, is where I consider you independent."

Suddenly fierce and determined, I kissed him swiftly and then put my hands on either side of his face, staring just staring into his eyes.

"James, you've no idea how I need you."

It seemed he kissed me again and the night progressed as such and whatever point, worry, doubt I had faded and dulled as passion flared and I forgot about whatever it had been. So funny, I thought, that he was so absolutely powerful over me without trying. We went to sleep that night and the next thing I knew, I swear, really, the next thing I consciously became aware of – It was January, Christmas had come and gone and gifts and trees and lights and booze and food and weight gained and laugh lines pronounced and then we were married.

Abc.

February was going to be a short month, I thought. Twenty-eight days, how easy that seemed. The quicker the days, weeks, months pass – the sooner a year will have passed and the longer we will have fought on. Yes, short months and time flying at full speed was what we needed right then.

Actions and thoughts and battles were blurred throughout the rest of December, January and into February. There was a mounting panic and how could there not be? How could there not be panic when we were watching so many that we knew, and many more that we did not, be blown up in their homes, being murdered with the wave of a wand?

It wasn't that the death toll was that high. It wasn't that we were ambushed from all sides and the walls were closing in and there was no hope at all. We hadn't gotten there yet, we were still working and normally succeeding more than failing. But each death, each attack, no matter how few, dealt a hard blow and it got harder to keep going. It got harder to vanish off to random places, looking for Death Eaters, trying to protect people and homes – and not know if we would come back. The panic was not yet full force but I felt like it should be. I felt like screaming until my lungs burst because there was not panic, there was not enough movement, not enough to do yet too much to do. It was frustrating, to feel as if we were standing still yet moving rapidly, the world spinning by.

I just wanted the year to be over. 1979 was damned already to me, yet it was by far not the worst that was to come.

Before I hadn't cared – well, no, I had cared quite a lot, given how many people I loved were tied to the Order but I hadn't – I hadn't been as involved as I was after we married. I had felt perhaps useless and scared and uncertain but once we married I realized he was never going to leave again without me and I had to make sure that there would be no permanent, death sort of separation. I was in the Order to protect others, to help in this fight but I was also in the Order because of James and so much because of James that it was scary yet made perfect sense. We were a whole now and had there been a time when we weren't?

"Lily," We didn't always, actually not very often, sit together at Order meetings, though of course they all knew we were married and some had been at the wedding though only a dozen or so. There were some boundaries, still, it seemed. I felt affectionate toward him, loving, yet kept my distance and was somewhat of a professional when it came to our relationship in public. For some reason that made sense at the time. I suppose I thought people may take us more seriously if we were still individual's on the outside, though entirely bound at the soul.

"Lily," He was across the large wooden table we sat at, between Sirius and Frank Longbottom, and he had been paying rapt attention to Dumbledore as he spoke but something about me had caught his attention and he was actually getting quite loud.

"Lily," Rather than shout, he hissed my name and leaned across the table a bit, flailing his foot at me under it – missing due to the monstrous size of the thing – kicked it from underneath, caused it and those around it to jump.

"Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore inquired, though not as interestedly as the other members, and James apologized and leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. He looked sort of angry and amused all in one.

I went back to listening, though not looking, to Dumbledore and found my gaze focused on the same person as before.

Abc.

Tea and crumpets followed as the meeting broke up and I sat near Alice, talking and drinking and eating and bemoaning the cold weather, wondering aloud whether Spring still existed or not. There were many things I wondered if still existed – Like peace and calm and happiness.

"Lily," Alice said eventually and she giggled a bit as she drunk from her cup and that was the thing about Alice. She was absolutely serious, a thousand times more dedicated to the Order, more understanding of the hardships facing us but she was still so refreshingly young. When I felt old beyond my years, felt as if my own husband more closely resembled his late father than he did a younger version of himself – I looked to Alice and she was often smiling and her eyes were wide and innocent and when Frank looked at her it was with obvious adoration, with all of the love in the world right there on his face. It was reassuring. "James is glaring at you."

"Is he?" I asked, eyebrows raised, not particularly surprised because he was grumpy now and then and found a reason to take it out on me but I didn't find bad moods as often as I once had. "Wonder why..."

I didn't have to wonder for long, for he approached, beer in hand and politely asked Alice if he could have a moment with me. He was still a gentleman, even in times of war and anger and frustration. I smirked because he was vulgar and loud when we were home, all pretences of ease gone.

When Alice left with a smile and nod, going to Frank, James took me by the crook of my elbow and pulled me away from most of the group. He pulled me toward the fireplace where he set his drink on the mantle and then cocked an eyebrow at me.

"Do you ever notice, especially lately, how...absent-minded you are? Not to offend but...and not when it comes to your intelligence but you just don't seem to notice...what you do sometimes."

I pursed my lips and frowned, folding my arms.

"You realize you sat through most of the two hour meeting glaring at poor Moony, aye?"

It was still funny to me that I actually knew the reasoning behind their nicknames.

"Lily, you didn't even realize, did you?"

I was smiling as I watched the flames leap about, warming my hands and face, causing a warm flush to colour my cheeks.

"Hmm? Sorry, no...Glaring at Remus? Oh...Was it him I was looking at? That's funny, I wasn't even seeing him, I was just thinking..."

He left me in silence for a moment before pressing.

"Of what?"

"Oh...oh. Oh okay, you can't judge me, though. I don't expect you to but it was actually kind of an, um, dark thought that I was preoccupied with for...the entire meeting..."

"Lily," impatience saturated his voice and stance, arms folded, foot tapping.

"I was wondering what it'd be like to kill someone. Not I'm-so-angry-I-could-strangle-someone sort of kill but actually just...just kill someone, murder. Point blank, no second thoughts. Do what you have to do, you know. S'pose it would be Remus's head I'd envision on the platter..." I was amused at the thought and considering it wouldn't really help our friendship that I was sending him death glares but then I saw James's expression and it was of concern.

We left shortly after with a goodbye to Dumbledore and the Longbottom's and a "see you later" to Sirius.

Abc.

"'Til Kingdom Come", by Coldplay.

Abc.

We married at a small church, short notice to everyone including one another. It was just a natural sort of agreement one morning – "About time, don't you think?" and I said yes and two days later it had happened.

He wore traditional robes in lieu of a suit, thought his Dad would have had appreciated that. Sirius was the Best Man, Bridget the only one to stand up with me and Remus walked me down the aisle which had me giggling before he had offered me to James. Peter and the Longbottoms were there, as well as Marlene McKinnon and her current boyfriend, as well as a few other Order members. James's mum and little Lexi, his Aunt Mary and Uncle Mac, old neighbour Melly and that was it for his family. I had invited my sister; she not-so-politely declined, reminding me of our visit at Christmastime the year before when she had made her feelings for James clear. Something about never wanting to see him again and so on.

It was short and we did not stand before them and utter overly personal vows, just sort of gazed into one another's eyes and said the proper "I do"'s and "death do us parts". I wondered if I would cry, if I should cry. I had never before been to a wedding, so I was unfamiliar with the proper reaction from the bride. I just felt overwhelmingly happy, beaming up at him until my cheeks were sore and my lips quivering but I could not stop the smile, could not think of anything but here he is and here I am and for the rest of our lives.

The smile finally wavered as he kissed me with an identical grin to mine and then it crashed down on me. Was I really wearing a white dress, gold wedding band, standing before a minister? Declaring myself to James Potter of all people and wife, really? Husband and wife and was this really happening? I cried until the ceremony ended and we walked down the aisle with arms locked and rice in our hair and he whispered to me it would be all right.

Sitting at home – temporary home because we were still on the hunt for the perfect one – with him beside the fire, stoking it almost absently, sipping his nightcap of whiskey or rum, I was never certain his preference...sitting there with him like that, quiet in February, it was strange to think any of that had happened at all. Sometimes I would forget, forget anything was different and then would see the rings on my finger and remember suddenly and startlingly and the emotions of that day, that night were so the highlight of my life.

The reception carried on and on and on into the night and it was actually dawn before people left and reminded us of our trip; we never did properly honeymoon. We holed up in a fancy hotel in some far-off European city, to which we Apparated to and never properly saw, and were back in two days. We married on his birthday, the 22nd, and then it was Christmas, so we were home to celebrate with friends and family and somehow life felt complete, for those few short days.

Turmoil ensued shortly after, of course, making it seem all the more surreal.

His mother gave me her veil, kissed my cheek and gave her blessing and even that was right in the world. I could not imagine, could not grasp the change my life – our lives – had taken.

"What are you thinking of now?" The present James, swirling the drink in his hand, interrupted my thoughts of that impossible-to-imagine time. "You don't look quite as murderous, I'll give you that."

"Mmm," Contentment as I sighed and looked over at him awash in the light of the flames. "The wedding. Our wedding."

"How strange your thought process in one day, yeah?" He sat on the coffee table, across from me on the couch, put his hand on my knee and squeezed gently.

He was being careful and his eyes were weary.

"What's the matter," I whispered.

"Aside from...war and constant uproar...The matter is you, I suppose. Not the matter but the worry is...is you."

We were quiet for a long while and I wondered why neither Bridget or Sirius had appeared here yet, had came in, loud about the evening and plans and drunk and hope. I supposed James had requested some kind of privacy.

"Really, darling," Sometimes my eyes watered from the emotion of speaking to him, of looking at him itself. "You shouldn't worry about me killing someone, it was just a thought. What if, you know. What if our lives are in danger and there is no option, nothing to do but just...just wave of the wand and take the life of an evil, evil person? Could I do it, I don't know – I was just wondering what it would be like. If I could, how I'd feel, if there'd be any guilt or any...pleasure." I sighed as this didn't ease any of the concern on his face.

He swallowed, finished his drink and returned to massaging my knee. Liquor made his eyes smolder the loveliest colour.

"It makes me angry, is all. So angry, I just..." Clenched jaw, jumping Adam's apple. "hate that you and I have reached some harmony but the world is at such an ugly odds. It makes me angry that you, that my wife has to sit and wonder about murder of all things. It's not how our lives should be, Lily. You shouldn't have to ever think about having blood on your hands. I want to protect you from all of this but you're integral in it all, too. It's not where we're supposed to be, it's not how our newlywed year should be happening. Not stuck in a flat with another semi-couple, not being married and having never actually been on our own together, not in the middle of a damned war..."

James's voice broke and so did my heart and I never imagined my simply wondering of murder – well, perhaps that was not a simple thing to wonder – would put so much guilt onto him, so much of a burden it would be.

"I don't want to make this harder for you, James. I'll try to keep my homicidal thoughts to myself from now on. Lessen the death glares to one of your best mates and all..." I tried a smile.

Hard eyes and strong voice now. "Bugger that, love. If you ever get into the situation, ever can save a life or a hundred lives of the good side by taking one of the bad guys out – do it. Wave your wand and say that curse and prepare yourself for any consequences but do what you have to do. If you need to murder, then murder. I expect you'd tell me the same. It's just the fact we're in this at all, we have to talk about such a sin at all that is...ravaging my insides."

I felt a little quieter, a little calmer, a little older on my insides that night. I felt a little more responsible, a little more dark, a little more aware.

We watched M*A*S*H that night – I turned the television on when James left to shower and it seemed there was nothing more to say – and I remembered being 12 or 13 the first time I saw it. I remembered sitting in front of the television, uncertain of just why I was watching this show I felt was better suited for old men.

I remembered an instant, strange attraction to Hawkeye even at a young age and I smiled a bit as I watched the doctor on screen six years after I'd first discovered it. Alan Alda hadn't changed much but the show wasn't as funny as I had first found it – still the same quality, still quick wit and such a strange setting for a television show, the Korean war. But I paid more attention to the fact that, yes, they were in a war and yes, people were dying and the show was trying to make a point.

Hawkeye, in his nearly-passive, bitter way, was talking about the hardships of war and his wish for both sides to reach a peace agreement but he was there to help and never dwelled for long.

Something exploded, the injured were rushed to the MASH 4077, putting an end to the conversation on screen and James shut the set off.

Strange, that M*A*S*H was actually a kind of dark show, comedy all wrapped up in death and war and no, it wasn't as funny as I had first found it. I suppose death and war were not funny to one in the middle of it. James seemed to share my thoughts, as he sat quietly and said nothing for long moments.

"Are you coming to bed?" It wasn't that late.

I squirmed.

"Um, no. I think this is a marathon, I haven't seen it in years. You go, I'll be up later."

abc.

Sirius showed up later, loudly and drunkenly and apologetically. Bridget was staying at a mate's place tonight, he informed me, apparently unaware of the time. Just gone 4 o'clock and it was a frosty night, I could tell, for the end of his nose was red and condensation from his breathing had led to icicles on his beard. Sirius had grown a beard.

"Why?" I asked groggy and confused, for I had dozed off though not for as long as it seemed. One of those strange naps where it feels like hours but was only minutes.

"We're through, me and her. No use for it anymore, she doesn't. I don't love her, is the problem. I might actually be cheating on her, too, to tell you the truth."

"Sirius," He was standing in the door, letting in the cold and it was a bright, clear night and I couldn't quite understand the expression on his face.

"Come in, we're not heating outside."

He stepped inside, shut the door, blew on his hands and rubbed them together.

"You sound like my grandmother."

Without another word of explanation he headed for the stairs.

"So, what, you're here to get your things?" I hedged, following behind him, wrapping my sweater closer around me. There was something off about him. Not even the drunkenness or the beard would normally obscure the typical Sirius lurking beneath, no, there was something more.

"Listen," He turned to face me, a bit unsteady on his feet and balanced himself on the wall. "What're you doing up? Didn't mean to wake you. Where's Prongs? I've kind of got some news."

I stared up into his eyes and suddenly it was more than a year ago and I was younger and he was too and I remembered kissing him but only vaguely and only strangely. Had that really happened? So much of my life seemed out of place, distorted, it was hard for me to think of things before James because I remembered them in a different light. The moments when I was reminded of him, overwhelmed at the thought of him were usually ill-chosen ones, like when staring up into Sirius Black's grey, sad eyes. It was easy to see, remembering him then and thinking of James now, that things really had changed. And well – some things had changed for the better and some things had become worse but both boys were older than a year or two should do to anyone. There was age and sadness in Sirius's bearded face, drunkenly obscured eyes.

Bridgett, really? I always assumed their whole thing was about sex and could not imagine either of them being really broken-hearted about it. Especially if he had some girl on the side...

Sirius wasn't a broken-hearted kind of guy, I decided or at least not in the typical way – It was a moment later he told me what was really going on and yes, he was capable of a broken heart in some cases.

Regulus Black died that night.

Abc.

"Revival", by Soulsavers.

Abc.

Hello! I know it has been awhile and it doesn't seem possible it has taken this long to get a new chapter up. I apologize, time gets away from me quite easily, obviously. Most of this chapter was written in December of '08, however. I suppose that's why it feels like it should've been done ages ago. So, the chapter was kind of written in chunks. A couple of chunks here and a couple there and I guess that's why I feel differently about different parts of it. I'm not sure how I feel about it, I feel good about it. I like it. I like trying to deal with a more involved Lily & James and move things along. Anyway, whatever your opinion – I just wanted to get a chapter up and let you know it's not over yet! School, however, is consuming my soul. Review if you please! Thanks for reading.