(A/N: Character death warnings, and the usual BYOT.)

Chapter 3: She Wasn't There

Sirius was on errand-running duty on 1 February. Not looking where he was going, his head filled with thoughts of Remus, he bumped into someone.

"Sorry," he muttered, looking up.

He'd run into Lucius Malfoy.

"Black," said the other man, dusting himself off fastidiously. "How are you these days?"

"Fine, thank you," said Sirius pointedly. "How is my lovely cousin?"

"Pregnant," said Malfoy proudly. "The House of Malfoy will have an heir in June. And you? Has your lady of the night presented you with any bundles of joy yet? I can refer you to a nice young witch, very discreet, who knows all the best paternity-determination spells..."

Sirius made to move on, but Malfoy blocked his path. "I was so sorry to hear about your friends," he said, his tone dripping with compassion. "Terrible, that such a thing can happen in this day and age. But there is always hope. They might still be alive."

Not trusting his voice, Sirius gave a curt nod.

"Well, I should let you go about your business," said Malfoy, moving aside grandly. "We need strong guardians for our homes and lives even more than usual in these troubled times..."

Sirius very carefully did not hit the man as he went past.

It seemed almost wrong for life to go back to normal in the ensuing months, but everyone knew their friends would have wanted it that way. So it did.

Aletha continued her training, weathering the occasional storms of memory in silence. Some days were easier than others. Weekends could be hard, since the house was empty and silent unless she made some noise herself, and there were some songs she couldn't play anymore, because she couldn't get through them without crying.

James and Sirius were seldom home these days, studying hard for their final tests, which they would take a few weeks earlier than the usual end of June dates. They were needed as qualified Aurors, since Alice Longbottom was going to be out of the field starting at the end of July.

Lily attended births at St. Mungo's, including helping to deliver a little boy to a woman who already had five sons. She made Aletha laugh harder than she had in months, describing the havoc the not-quite-two-year-old twin brothers of the new arrival had wreaked in the hospital room.

This, and everything else going on, Aletha detailed in the letters she had begun writing to Danger. It was stupid, she knew, but it made her feel closer to her friend. As if Danger were not dead, but only away on a trip, and someday Aletha would look up and see her come breezing in the door, brown eyes sparking mischief.

She wrote two or three letters a week, and burned them in the fireplace in the music room every Sunday morning. She made certain to do it in the mornings after she almost ran into Sirius doing the same thing on a Sunday evening. Poking through the ashes afterwards revealed a scrap of unburned parchment with just enough lettering on it to make Aletha certain he was writing to Remus.

She was careful never to go too near the music room on Sunday evenings after that. Her love needed to mourn just as she did.

James Potter and Sirius Black became full-fledged Aurors in a short ceremony on Monday, 2 June, 1980. Most of the Order of the Phoenix attended, including, for a wonder, Peter. He was being seen in public even less than before, and Aletha wondered again where he was spending all his time. Some of it, she knew, was with the Meads, working at the bookstore or just trying to be a good son-in-law, but there were large amounts of time when Peter simply wasn't anywhere to be found.

If this is how he wants to mourn, let him. He'll come back to us in time.

Excitement ran high in the Order as the end of July approached. Bets were being laid on whether Lily or Alice would go into labor first. Lily and Alice were not amused.

A few days beforehand, Dumbledore called Aletha to his office in Order Headquarters.

She was not happy to hear what he had to say.

"A mission? Now? But sir–"

"I know. You had hoped to assist Lily and Alice when they gave birth. I had hoped you might be able to as well. But a situation in Scotland has come to my attention which cannot be ignored."

Aletha sighed. "All right, sir. What is it?"

Dumbledore pulled out a scroll and handed it to her. "There are rumors of a colony of Hebridean Black dragons being magically trained to attack Muggle suburbs with fire."

Aletha frowned in confusion, skimming the scroll before looking back up at the Headmaster. "But – I'm no good with dragons. What can I do?"

"I am sending Gideon and Fabian Prewett to investigate the situation. If there are indeed dragons, whether or not there are also Death Eaters training them, injuries are likely. They will need a Healer with them, and you are the most qualified current Order member."

"But I'm only half-trained–"

"Which is more training than anyone else in this Order at the moment. You may make the difference between life and death. Will you go?"

Aletha straightened proudly. "Yes, sir."

She and the Prewetts left the next morning. She had told her friends only that she had to be away for a time, not where she was going, or why, or who with, and apologized heartily to Lily for not being there for her at this important time in her life.

"We'll get you for it," said Lily with a grin. "We'll name Sirius godfather, and not give the little one a godmother at all, just to spite you."

"Fine, be that way." Aletha marched out in false high dudgeon, coming back in a moment later to say one last goodbye. Her last memory of Danger was the unromantic yell "Out of my way, you hairy monster!" as she and Remus raced for the door. She didn't want Lily to be faced with anything like that.

The trip north was enjoyable. The Prewetts were good company, friendly and polite, but with that mischievous look in their eyes that made her understand why James and Sirius had sought them out as mentors in the Auror training program. She was grateful, as it was nearly mid-August before they got to the site where the dragons were supposed to be.

Gideon led the way into the valley. "Odd," he said, bending to look at a rock.

"What?" Fabian stepped up beside him to look over his shoulder.

"No scorch marks here. Everything's usually burned up near a dragon colony."

"Maybe the Death Eaters keep 'em under control." Fabian shrugged, half-turning to look at Aletha.

At that very moment, the spell struck her.

She was encased in bonds of iron, or stone – a full Body-Bind, she realized as she fell heavily to the ground. She thanked whatever deity had been watching that she had been standing on a slope to one side, so that she hadn't fallen on her face, breaking her nose, or on her back, probably knocking herself out when her head hit the ground.

Talk about small favors...

Because now she had a perfect view of the battle. A perfect view of Gideon and Fabian fighting off five Death Eaters, fighting on despite their wounds, despite the spells cast purposely to cause them pain. She screamed silently as Gideon fell, and watched him in desperation until he breathed again, shallowly, sporadically, but he breathed.

He's not dead yet. I could save him, if I could just get to him... if I could just move!

But the spell would not let her go.

She watched, disbelieving, as a wounded Fabian dealt with the last two Death Eaters himself. Then he turned and looked at her. Help me, his eyes begged. With the last of his strength, he incanted the countercharm to the Petrificus.

She felt the bonds loose her as he collapsed.

Help them, her Healer's instincts clamored at her. Help them, help them – they're dying, you can't hesitate –

But she did hesitate. For one vital second, she tried to decide which of them to tend.

The rasp in Gideon's breath decided her. She began to work on him, performing the spells that should support his collapsed lung and slow his bleeding, stabilizing him until she could get through to Headquarters – there was no more need for secrecy – and have them send a Portkey out to her.

But Fabian died while she was still tending to Gideon.

And in the instant of her realizing that the man at her back no longer breathed, she let her concentration on the spell she was doing slip.

Sirius was taking an unscheduled break from his duties, relaxing with his godson in Order Headquarters.

"Harry, Harry," he chanted like a song, rocking the little boy in his arms. "Harry James Potter." James and Lily had considered naming their child after Remus, but Sirius had reminded them of Remus' own views on names.

"The simpler the better, he said," murmured Sirius now, stroking Harry's sleeping face. "Harry Potter. Simple and strong. He'd love it. He'd love you." Remus had always loved children, and this child was special – the first child of the Marauders.

But not the last. Sirius smiled, wondering what a child of his and Aletha's would look like. A little girl, maybe, to counterbalance James' boy – a girl with her mum's dark face and crinkled hair, but silver-grey eyes like her dad...

A loud crack startled Harry out of his nap. Sirius quickly shushed him before he could cry and looked around to see who had Apparated in, and so noisily.

"Letha!" He was on his feet in an instant, crossing to her and shifting Harry into one arm so that he could hug her with the other. "Look, here he is, it's a boy, he was born on the 31st..." He noticed the expression on her face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Aletha said quietly. She held out her arms. "Let me see him?"

Sirius slid the little boy from his arms to hers. "His name is Harry," he said before she could ask. "Harry James."

"That's a nice name." Aletha touched Harry's hair. "I see he takes after his father."

"But look at those eyes. Just like his mum. He was born with them – I thought babies all had blue eyes."

"Mostly they do. Some have other colors." Aletha looked away. "Take him back?"

Sirius accepted Harry. "What's wrong?" he repeated. "You don't act like this for nothing."

She looked up at him, and Sirius suddenly knew how his own eyes must have looked the day he'd had to tell her that four of their friends were missing, possibly dead, possibly worse.

"Gideon and Fabian Prewett are dead," she said dully. "And it's my fault."

Dumbledore sent people north to retrieve the bodies and the defeated Death Eaters. They returned with only four, which worried Aletha slightly, but not much. Everything was secondary to the shame which was overwhelming her.

They're dead and it's my fault. My fault. All my fault.

Nothing could break her out of the spiral. Seeing the little boys, Harry, and Frank and Alice's son Neville, reminded her of the woman with six sons, Molly Weasley. She hadn't known, before this trip, that Molly was the Prewetts' sister.

Visiting Rose and David Granger, Rose obviously so excited for her coming child, only made her think of Danger and Remus. She hadn't been able to save them, either.

And she couldn't bear to go to work. What if she made another mistake? Who else would die because of her?

She told Dumbledore, in private, that she was quitting the Healer's program. He looked grave, but agreed with her decision, and not to tell anyone.

She hadn't bargained with his ability to hint at things.

Someone knocked on the door of the room where Aletha was lying on the bed, crying.

"Go away," she called.

The door opened.

"I said, go away."

"No." The firm tones in the voice made her look around. Sirius stood in the doorway. James and Lily were visible on either side of him, Lily with Harry in her arms, and she could just see Frank and Alice down the hall a little ways, Alice holding Neville.

"You're coming with us," continued Sirius. "Now."

"No."

"Yes." Sirius drew his wand and Summoned her from the bed.

She made no effort to run into him with anything softer than her feet.

"Ouch."

"You asked for it," said Lily irritably. "Honestly." She handed Harry to Frank, who was closest, and bent down to pull Aletha up. "Come on, let's go."

"Go where?"

"We have some things to show you," said James. "Things we think you need to see."

As soon as she realized where they were taking her, Aletha tried to get away, but it was five to one, and two of them were carrying children, so they were automatically off limits. As soon as Alice and James, who had reclaimed his son from Frank, realized this, they started herding her with the babies.

That was how they got her into the Floo fire, and Lily called out the destination – St. Mungo's.

Aletha scowled at the so-familiar lobby into which her friends Apparated, surrounding her. The floating balls filled with candles, the poster-covered walls, the rows of wizards and witches waiting for treatment seemed to taunt her. "I don't want to be here."

"No, you do want to be here," Lily corrected. "You're just scared."

"I am not scared! I'm incompetent!"

"You are not," said Alice with certainty, rocking Neville soothingly. "You made a mistake. If I told you all the mistakes I've made, you'd be amazed."

"Has anyone ever died because of you?" Aletha demanded angrily.

"Yes." Alice gave her the answer unblinkingly. "Three people, in fact. One due to a misfired curse, and two because I didn't notice a killer in time."

"I lost a hostage once," said Frank. "Mishandled the situation completely. And then the wizard killed himself when he realized he'd just murdered his only bargaining chip."

"At one of the first births I ever attended, the baby was stillborn," said Lily, green eyes answering the pain in Aletha's own. "The mother was so hopeful. It almost killed me to have to tell her."

"This past year, when we were doing solo training," said James, "my mentor – Fabian Prewett, actually – let me make the decision about what to do. I chose to go in with my wand blazing. It was the worst thing I could have done. The bloke in the house might have surrendered if I'd gone in quietly. Instead, he fought back, and I had to kill him before he killed me."

"Death touches us all," said Lily, cradling her black-haired son. "But giving up isn't the answer. If you give up, you forfeit, and the other side wins. Voldemort wins. And I know you don't want that."

Sirius stepped in front of her and took her hands in his. "The whole point of being married is to have someone who knows you better than you know yourself," he said. "We haven't been married all that long, but I think we know each other pretty well. And I don't think you're a quitter. Not unless you let yourself be."

"But I let them die!"

"The only way never to fail is never to try," said Frank quietly. "And more people will die if you leave the Healer's program than if you stick with it."

Alice nodded firmly. "We're going to need good Healers before this war is over. And you will make a good Healer."

Aletha looked over her shoulder at the staircase. "I don't have my kit..." she began uncertainly.

James produced a small bundle from his pocket and enlarged it with his wand. "Brought it with us, just in case," he said, handing it over.

Aletha sighed. "Thank you, everyone," she said, smiling and surprised when it felt awkward.

How long has it been since I smiled?

She turned and started for the stairs.

They're right. They're all right. I can't quit. Not now.

Maybe I couldn't save the Prewetts. But I'll honor their memories best by saving other people.

Her heart felt lighter than it had in a long time.

Rose went into the hospital on a cool morning in mid-September, and David came out of the delivery room at half past one to announce that he had a daughter.

"She's lovely," said Lily, rocking the tiny girl. "Does she have a name yet?"

"Hermione," said David proudly. "Hermione Jane."

"He was pulling for Ophelia, but I told him absolutely not," said Rose from the bed. "I want this little one to have a happy ending."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Hermione, a happy ending? Coming back to life after being a statue for sixteen years?"

"Being presumed dead for sixteen years," corrected David. "The statue thing was just so she could come back to life dramatically."

"It's happier than Gertrude," said Aletha quietly.

Rose sighed. David nodded sadly.

James, holding a sleeping Harry, shook his head. "One of these days, I am going to have to read some Shakespeare and figure out what all you people are talking about."

He couldn't understand why everyone laughed.

Halloween was hard. All anyone could think of was their absent friends. Aletha had kept writing her letters, though they had become slightly less frequent as time went on, but she still managed to get one done a week at least.

She wrote three on Halloween, pouring her heart out through the quill.

"Dearest Danger, I miss you so much. Everything seems wrong without you. The house is so empty, I've been thinking of asking Sirius if we can move. We could get new renters, I suppose, but that feels wrong. I don't like thinking of new people living where you and Remus used to live, using your furniture, your kitchen, your home. Still, it has to happen sometime. Most houses are homes to more than just one family. But you didn't choose to leave here. You were taken away. I guess that's why I keep expecting you to come home. We haven't even changed the locks..."

"Harry is such a beautiful baby. James and Lily did what they threatened to – named Sirius his godfather, with no godmother – but I don't mind. I still get to see him just about every day. Dumbledore likes Lily to stay at Headquarters during the day, instead of being home, so I see them whenever I pop in. He wants Alice there too, instead of home, when she's off duty, and he has Lily minding Neville when Alice has to work. I wonder if there's something behind that..."

"I'm so sorry for Peter. I almost think it would have been better if he'd died, instead of making it back. He's like a ghost, just wandering through life, not participating at all. He smiled a little when he held Harry for the first time. I know, I know – he smiled a little? With the child of James and Lily Potter in his arms, he smiled a little? But it's the most reaction anything's gotten from him in months. Evanie really was everything to him, even more, I think, than you and Remus were to each other, if that's possible..."

The fireplace was very full of ashes the next morning.

To everyone's surprise, Christmas managed to be something resembling happy that year. Harry, Neville, and Hermione babbled happily at each other as their mothers chatted. Alastor Moody and Minerva McGonagall got into a Transfiguration contest which culminated in McGonagall turning Moody into a three-legged dog and Moody, when he got his human form back, turning McGonagall into an orange kitten. Even Peter was there, and he was seen to smile more than once in the course of the evening.

Paradoxically, the lives of the remaining Marauders became happier through the winter, as the war worsened. Sirius and James, of course, were never so happy as when they were fighting. James loved to tell the story of the day they'd been pinned down by enemy fire against a building. Reinforcements were coming, but they were nearly half a mile from the rendezvous point, and surrounded on all sides. Suddenly Sirius had jumped up.

"What are you doing?" James had hissed at him.

"Something stupid," Sirius had shot back. "Make good use of it, will you?" And with that, he was off, running across the field screaming like a maniac. He didn't even stop when some bizarre curse from the Death Eater lines Vanished all his clothing and turned his skin bright green. James had managed, with a supreme exercise of self-control, to get into a better position, set up spells to lead the reinforcements to their location, and pick off a few enemies before he succumbed to helpless laughter.

Lily was working only part-time now, most of her energy focused on the dark-haired bundle of energy that was her son. Harry was no sooner crawling than he tried to walk, no sooner walking than he tried to run, and constantly trying to get into the closet where James stored his broomstick. If James had been like this as a child, his mother had everyone's sympathies, Aletha thought.

Spring was a difficult time for the Order of the Phoenix. They seemed to be losing people every day; if not members of the Order, then members' families. Voldemort obviously knew who they were, and was attacking them in their weak spots.

Aletha had to stop Lily from physically harming her sister Petunia at the April funeral of their parents, when Petunia openly accused Lily of being the reason the Evanses were dead. The worst of it was, of course, that Petunia was at least partly right – if Lily hadn't been a witch, her parents would never have died.

"You couldn't help being a witch," said Aletha strongly. "No more could I, or any of us. It's in our blood, Lily. There's nothing we can do about it."

The Evanses appeared to have died quietly, in their sleep, for which everyone was grateful. There was nothing they could have done, had they been awake.

That was not the case with James' parents.

Harold Potter was a retired Auror, of Alastor Moody's generation, and Marguerite Potter had been a dueling champion before her marriage, and after it as well. Voldemort either didn't know this, or didn't care, when he sent a mere three Death Eaters to kill the couple. They succeeded, but all three met their own demise as well, not even surviving long enough to cast the Dark Mark over the house. James found them the next morning, when he stepped through the Potters' fire to invite his parents over for tea.

Sirius and Aletha made it their business to be there for their friends, often taking care of Harry, even overnight, as the Potters struggled with the shared pain of losing their parents. Aletha had to take a lot of the burden on herself, as Sirius was mourning too. The Potters had been like a family to him, much as the Grangers were to her.

An owl came to the Blacks' home in June, bearing a letter from David and Rose, sent through the 3M service, inviting Sirius and Aletha to their house for tea and a chat.

"Do we have anything scheduled?" asked Sirius, reading the note.

"No, nothing on the calendar," said Aletha. "I'll call Voldemort and ask him not to attack anywhere."

"You do that."

They arrived at the Grangers' home at three-thirty the next day.

"We wanted to talk about Hermione," said David, looking at his daughter where she sat playing on the kitchen floor, stacking rings on a pillar. "With the world the way it is... well, life's uncertain, more than it used to be. We would have asked Danger and Remus this, but they're not here, and you are..."

"We'd be honored if you'd take care of Hermione," said Rose. "If anything happens to us."

"Of course we will," said Aletha quickly. "But nothing's going to happen to you, you're not even involved anymore..."

"We're Muggles," said David with a self-deprecating chuckle. "Torture fodder. And if my girl pissed off a few of them before she went, as I have no doubt she did, they might want some payback."

"They wouldn't know where to find you," said Sirius surely. "Danger would never have given them this address. Ours, or James and Lily's, maybe – she knows we can defend ourselves – but not yours. She wouldn't send them here."

Neville and Harry turned one at the end of July. The Order threw them a joint party, and both birthday boys celebrated in the traditional manner, by throwing their cake at everyone they could reach. They especially seemed to enjoy plastering one another.

17 August was a Monday. Aletha was just coming off her shift when a nearby painting hailed her. "Hoy! Freeman-Black!"

"Yes?"

"Owl for you. Waiting in the message center."

"Thanks." Aletha headed for the stairs. The message center of the hospital shared the fifth floor with the tearoom and gift shop.

The letter, in Sirius' handwriting, was short and to the point.

Attack in Surrey. Come to the Ministry.

Aletha folded the letter, her mind racing.

Surrey. Who do we know who lives...

Her heart fell through the floor and all the way to the ground six stories below.

Rose and David – Hermione!

She was racing down the stairs, flying past people, making the portraits on the walls exclaim, but she didn't hear any of it.

No, oh no, please not them too, not them too...

In seconds, or so it seemed, she was running through the Atrium at the Ministry, forcing herself not to jab repeatedly at the button for Level Two – that wouldn't make the lift go any faster...

Sirius was waiting for her outside the lifts. His face was carefully blank, and that scared her. "In my cubicle," he said quietly, taking her hand.

A small couch awaited them there, obviously created from Sirius' desk chair. Aletha sank onto it while Sirius sealed the cubicle with a Privacy Spell. "Tell me quickly," she said when he turned to face her.

Sirius nodded. "David and Rose are dead," he said heavily. "They were tortured."

Aletha shivered, but she would mourn later. She needed to know something else first.

"Hermione?" She knew he would tell her in a second, but she couldn't help asking. The bright little-girl face, so very like Danger's, kept rising in her imagination, twisted in fear or pain, begging for her help...

Sirius wouldn't meet her eyes. "We don't know," he said quietly. "She wasn't there."

"Wasn't there?" Aletha felt a surge of relief. "You mean she was at day care. They hadn't picked her up yet."

"No." Sirius was still staring at the wall. "We made inquiries. She'd already been picked up. She was there. But now she's not."

Everything seemed to go very quiet, and then very dark. Aletha had only one thought remaining to her as she slipped away.

What do they want with the Granger girls?

He looked down at the child, charmed asleep in the cradle, and felt a smile curl his lip.

No spell could be considered truly usable until it had been cast at least twice, with similar if not precisely the same results, and by at least one other wizard or witch than the original caster. He felt himself privileged to be the second to cast this particular spell. It had not done what it was intended for due to an unscheduled interruption, but what it had done had been so very successful that it had been decided to try it again. Similar raw materials, at least on one side of the equation, might well help.

Of course, it didn't hurt that the use of this raw material would also fulfill another goal of his, the same goal the afternoon's fun and games had fulfilled. And if all went well, his son and heir would soon have what he had already provided for himself and his wife.

He had meant what he'd said earlier in the year.

(A/N: Sigh. These chapters just keep getting longer. And I'm sure you're all terribly sad about that.

Note to those who asked: This story diverges from "Slice of Heaven" around Chapter 4, since Remus' mother dies and Aletha's doesn't get her cancer treated, but keeps to that timeline with regards to Evanie, and to Sirius and Aletha's romance. None of the Great Battle stuff (including Regulus' sacrifice and Remus' and Danger's human-by-day-wolf-by-night bit) happened in this universe.

Hermione's fate is a late addition to the story. I was originally intending to have her at day care, as in LwD, and have Sirius and Aletha take her in. But last night, I had a marvelous idea, and thus it unfolds as you see it now... ahh, the joy of knowing the ending... yes, I'm horrendously mean. I know. Maybe I wouldn't be so mean if people loved me! What's with the no Yahoo, almost no reviews bit? Is it just that it's Monday? Please get over it, whatever it is! I need my review love!)