A/N: As soon as I posted chapter three of Because I Can this just popped into my head. I'm not in love with it, so feel free to flame if you feel the need. I don't even know why I posted it. I'm just bored.

This is assuming the Longbottoms were tortured into insanity after James and Lily died, I don't think there's anything that says they became insane before the Potters were killed, but I'm sorry for going against canon if I am. Again, flame away.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

I knew James and Lily in Hogwarts, but only by name. If we were to pass in the hall we would smile and nod at each other, perhaps even wave if we were having a good day.

Even though they were a few years below me I was not immune to the Marauders' antics, so I knew James. And since I knew James, I knew Lily. Some would look at them, shake their heads and say "opposites attract" but I never agreed with them. Lily and James might have their differences, but they certainly weren't opposites. Opposites were fire and ice, and James and Lily were fire and fire.

I graduated from Hogwarts, married Frank and didn't hear from or about Lily and James for three years, not until they were no longer James and Lily, or Lily and James, but the Potters.

They were members of the Order of the Phoenix and Aurors, along with Frank and I. That's when I began to love James' sense of humor, and come to adore Lily's laughter. They brought light, laughter, and new life to the Order, something it desperately needed.

Below the surface of easy smiles and quick tongues you began to notice James' persistence, and Lily's determination. They treated every mission as if it was their last, every assignment as if it would single handedly bring about the end of Voldemort, and cherished every moment fighting for what they believed in. They were willing to lay their lives on the line for Dumbledore, for the Order, for the cause, for good.

They faced Voldemort with the bravery of wizards twice their age and all three times escaped his clutches.

Then Lily and I both became pregnant. Our joint baby shower was the last time I ever saw her--or James. Soon after the party Dumbledore told us about the prophecy.

Lily and I were separated at once, both protected by spells, charms, and ancient magic. Now, even if Voldemort or a Death Eater found one and killed her, the other would still be safe, one would still have the power to vanquish the Dark Lord.

I was terrified. Terrified for me, terrified for Lily, terrified for Frank, terrified for James, terrified for our unborn children. Cruel fate had dealt them an awful hand. One destined to kill or be killed. One destined to be the might-have-been, the could-have-been. One would be exalted and respected. One would go about his business, no one knowing, no one caring he too could have possessed the awful power.

Often during my pregnancy I pondered which fate would be worse. Not being able to choose I hoped for my baby to be born premature, or just a few days late.

A few days were all that separated my Neville from freedom and happiness.

After he was born I wept for the injustice of it all. Why? Why did all this have to happen? Why did the fate of the wizarding world rest on Neville's shoulders? Or even worse, why not Neville?

I heard of Harry's birth a few days later. He almost missed it, could have missed it if he was just born a few hours later. I wondered if Lily was going through the same anguish as I was.

Now all we could do was wait.

And he made his choice.

Now I'm watching Neville peacefully sleep in his crib. Frank is rubbing my back and I'm still trying to digest the news we just received. Lily, James, dead. House destroyed, Voldemort destroyed…for now. Harry left with a scar, just a scar. He has no house, no parents, no relatives, no memories, but he has the scar. The scar that distinguishes him from Neville.

Neville rolls over in his sleep. Supposedly Frank and I are the lucky ones. We kept our child safe, we didn't let him get to Neville. But I know, and Frank knows that it wasn't anything we did that kept Neville safe. If Voldemort had chosen Neville we would have been just as powerless as Lily and James in stopping him.

I gazed at my son, the could-have-been, the might-have-been, the shadow of heroism clinging to him. Yes, we kept him safe.

But at what price?