Dark Times with the Marauders

-5-

A/N: I'm sure that all of you (old readers, that is) noted the title change. I originally started this as a cute little ficlet between Sirius and Harry, maybe sort of an HP version of Jack Attack from the Incredibles. But I kept getting ideas, so who knows how long this might turn out to be? Thanks to all of my tolerant fans that are still hanging in there! And any James fans still get muffins and other assorted goodies! So, if you love James, give a holler and I'll keep a muffin list! XD Okay, enough goofing around. These characters aren't mine. Only the plot, and other things you don't recognize from the books. Now, happy reading!

POTTERS SAVE THE DAY!

"Oi! Lily! Get a load of this rubbish!" James picked up the Prophet and carried it inside. He put it on the table in front of his wife, who was still looking muzzy from a night's sleep. Her red hair stood in a frazzled halo around her head, her green eyes still half-closed. However, at James's words, she leaned forward to examine the Daily Prophet, her eyes catching the headline right away.

"Rita Skeeter," Lily said, "No wonder."

"Yes, Rita. Never really liked her in school." James laughed, "Still, it's funny how she botches things up." Lily was relieved to see that he seemed to be in a better mood about the events of the previous night. That was the James Potter that she knew.

There was a knock at the door. Lily tensed immediately, but James went to answer it anyway. Foolish of me, jumping at every shadow, she thought, It's not like Voldemort is going to walk to our door and ring the bell in broad daylight. She took a bite of toast just as she heard an exclamation of, "Wormtail!" from the entrance hall.

That'd be Peter Pettigrew. Peter was a modest young man who acted as if James walked on water most of the time, and when he wasn't doing that, he was pissing gold. As he entered the kitchen, Lily didn't bother to feel self-conscious about her raggedy house robe and her face, which bore no makeup. Peter probably didn't even notice. His blond hair was tousled, undoubtedly from the wind. It was a fine collection of hair that was already thinning, even when he was just in his early twenties. His blue eyes had heavy circles beneath them.

"So you've seen the paper!" Peter beamed and sat down without invitation. None of James's mates needed invitation to do anything at the Potters' house. They had just recently mastered ringing the doorbell, after the last time Sirius had forgotten and Lily had thrown one of her shoes at him. The story had circulated, and now the rest of the marauders had come to fear her when she had a projectile. "Isn't it great?"

Lily snorted. "Considering what happened—"

"S'pose Skeeter likes to make her heroes handsome, eh?" James winked at Lily as he reentered and took a seat next to her.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She said, casually buttering another slice of toast. Before she could reach for the marmalade, he had grabbed her around the waist, his fingers lightly tickling.

"I've got a knife! I've got a knife!" Lily said in between laughs.

"Prongs, watch out!" Peter called, and Lily was unsure whether or not he was actually joking. As if she'd use a knife on her husband. Please.

"Who's your handsome hero?" James persisted, his fingers digging deeper, causing Lily to burst into another paroxysm of laughter.

"You are!" She finally gasped, "Now let me go; we're going to wake the baby!"

"That's more like it." He released her and kissed the top of her head, nonchalantly returning to his breakfast.

All in all, it was a fairly typical breakfast at the Potters'.

An owl awaited Peter when he returned to his flat in the city. He unlocked the door with a quiet spell and let the creature in. It flew in with the elegance that befitted its appearance. It was a stately creature, obviously along in years, but it had an air of dignity about it.

"How're you doing, Greystone?" Peter asked it softly, "Moony treating you right?" He sheathed his wand carefully and closed the door behind him before moving towards the gray owl. The parchment was neat, a telltale touch of Remus. Peter smiled slightly and unfurled it, his eyes slowly pausing over each word of the letter:

Dear Peter,

I haven't seen you in a long time. I trust you are well? I know you don't like visitors to your flat, but I find that ridiculous, as it can't be any worse than the state Sirius's is in. Please say you'll come by for dinner. I miss you, Wormtail. You've been awfully closemouthed about your new job in the Ministry. Another week of silence and I'll come over uninvited. That's a promise.

Remus

A sad smile touched the corners of Peter's mouth. Tears came, so he closed his eyes and let the parchment litter the floor. Behind his eyelids were images that he'd like to forget—pain. Body-wracking, mind-rattling pain, white-hot and searing into his soul. He had felt like he was being ripped in half. And the threats. A high, cold whisper. "First your dear old mum, then you. Before she dies, she will know that it was you who killed her." He had no choice.

"Remus, I'm sorry. Oh God. James, Lily…I'm so sorry." He was trembling all over, the beginnings of sobs tearing at his voice. It was so easy. James and Lily were so trusting of him. They hadn't noticed that he had been a little withdrawn, a little troubled. Well, maybe James had, but he had probably written it off as fear. Because Peter was afraid. So terrified that he would give up his friends to Voldemort.

By the time Peter collected himself, Greystone had left, obviously sensing that there would be no reply to Remus's letter once again. The flat was dark and silent. Peter was afraid to be alone, afraid of…

Pain…lacing up his arm. He winced and rolled up the sleeve to his standard black robes. The brand on him, the mark of evil, was stirring. He shuddered and knew what it meant. He stepped outside, and Apparated away.

Night stole over the Potter home and laughter rang out. James was tossing Harry into the air, while Lily watched worriedly. Higher…and higher…one time, James was going to drop Harry. She sighed, and a smile touched her lips. She trusted her husband, and his reflexes, honed by Quidditch-playing in his Hogwarts days. Her smile grew at the irony of it all; during her Hogwarts days, she wouldn't have trusted James with a melon, let alone her only son. But then, those were the days when she thought that the aforementioned melon had more brains than "Peabrain Potter". She couldn't stifle a chuckle. It had been two years since she had called James that. Only two years? It felt like so much longer. It felt as if she had been with James forever. She couldn't remember a life without his arms encircling her in that special warmth that he only carried for her. She couldn't remember life without Harry's laughter, Harry's smiles, the touch of his soft baby hands on hers.

"Alright there, firelily?" Her husband's concerned face filled up her sight. She could see that he had temporarily stashed a giggling Harry underneath an arm.

"You'd better not drop him." Lily warned, a smile appearing over her face once again.

James raised up an arm to salute…the same arm that was holding Harry!

"James!" She shrieked. James hurriedly scooped the baby out of the air. He was grinning. Oh, that git! He planned it! She crossed her arms and scowled playfully at him.

"Not funny." She insisted, "You could have dropped him."

"Not on my life, love." James assured her, brushed a kiss against her forehead, and continued on with his games with his son.

Lily sighed, unable to shake the feeling that this would be one of the last peaceful moments in the Potter household for a while.