A/N: So I'm still confusing the daylights out of most of you…but have no fear, I'm working harder on not doing that. I sped things up slightly in this chap (if you can believe it) so hopefully more life-changing answers are to be discovered within the words that follow. Er…I think so.
Of Cowards and HeroesChapter 5
Hamilton, Canada, August 1996
James rolled over in bed, blinking his eyes against the infusion of bright sunlight that was currently streaming through the window. Groaning, he stared at the alarm clock on his bedside table; seven-fifteen a.m. Well, he'd have had to get up fairly soon anyway. Lying back down, he pondered a day off of work – after all, he owned the travel agency – he could easily call in and say that he'd be away that day.
A sudden, gentle sigh from the woman sleeping beside him brought a smile to his face. Raising himself on one elbow, he looked down at Adéla, running his free hand lightly through her now jet-black hair. Laughing slightly to himself, he remembered the day he'd come home a couple of weeks previously, only to find her hair covered by a vibrantly coloured scarf. Her face had been red with embarrassment even before he commented on it, and it took much cajoling for her to pull it off, letting locks of raven hair tumble down her back.
"Er, James?" she'd said, after a few minutes of shocked silence.
He'd simply stared at her for a moment, mouth opening and closing several times before stupidly blurting out the first thing that came to his mind.
"Well, that's a relief," he'd told her. "For a second there, I thought you'd went and got some ridiculous haircut."
Adéla had looked momentarily offended before sagging with relief at his words. She'd moved forward, about to kiss him when he'd spoken again.
"Merlin, you do look just like your mum, you know? Although…you've got the Zabini colouring."
She'd looked at him for only a fraction of a second then, her eyes horrified before she turned and rushed upstairs, running to their bathroom, where James heard drawers and cabinets being hastily rummaged through. Eventually, though, his brain finally caught up to the preceding events, and he'd sighed and took the stairs three at a time, barging into the room via the door that Adéla had forgotten to lock in her haste.
"Adéla, sweetheart – no…" he'd begun, but Adéla, finding the bottle she was looking for, had already started to pull off her clothes.
"I don't want to look like her, James. Or him. I don't want to look like anyone else!"
He had been about to take the bottle from her when he stopped, his mind processing her last words. Lily. She'd dyed her hair so that she no longer resembled his long-dead wife.
He'd pulled the lid of the toilet down and sat heavily on it, burying his face in his hands. Much to his surprise, though, the water didn't start running. When he'd opened his eyes, Adéla was kneeling before him in nothing but her underwear.
"I know," she'd said quietly. "It was stupid, I know. I just found an old picture, and…my hormones are going wild…I don't know what I was thinking."
James gave her a small smile before reaching forward to pull her onto his lap.
"Actually," he'd told her. "I like it. It suits you – as if – this is supposed to be your natural hair colour."
Adéla had rolled her eyes at him. "It is my natural hair colour, silly. I've told you that before."
"Oh," he'd responded, feeling fairly stupid. "Of course you have."
Her previous sadness had faded then, and she'd laughed, sliding her arms around him and kissing his cheek. "I was just too lazy to wait for it to grow out. But – you do like it, then?"
"Mmhm," James agreed, enjoying the way she felt held close to him. "I think it's very…intriguing."
Her laugh was loud and full bodied that time, her face sparkling with a happiness that had been a permanent fixture since then. And he did like her hair, he thought, now as he looked down at her peacefully sleeping form. His eyes travelled down her body, clad only in a thin slip, which had ridden up during the night and exposed the roundness of her stomach. Grinning, he bent down and kissed it softly, running his hands gently over it.
"Hi, baby girl." He said quietly. He'd been thrilled to learn that they were expecting a girl at her latest check-up, and even more so, now that Adéla was finally getting excited about the pregnancy, dragging him into every baby store she came across.
A sleepy chuckle from Adéla pulled his attentions away from her belly and up on her lips, eliciting a screwed up face from her.
"James," she said softly, he voice still husky with sleep. "Eww, I probably have terrible morning breath."
"I'll tell you what you have," James said, smiling and shaking his head. "You have my child…" he gestured down her body. "Growing inside you, that's what."
Adéla laughed again, much more awake this time. "I'm not going into work today – are you?'
James finally made up his mind and shook his head. "No…if you're taking the day off, I think I'll do the same."
"Mmm," Adéla murmured sleepily, closing her eyes. "Well, let's go back to sleep, then. We don't need to be up this early."
James stared down at her for a moment before picking up her left hand in his, gently caressing it. "Actually, Déla," he told her, his voice unfaltering. "Marry me."
So it was that around two that afternoon, James and Adéla were found standing facing each other in a small chapel, reciting their vows in front of a local minister and two good friends. Adéla had giggled when James asked her to marry him. "We're already engaged, James," she'd said. "I already said yes…" and then it had dawned on her just what he meant. She'd blushed and trailed off, fidgeting slightly under his gaze. She'd still said yes, though, and so now James was leaning forward to kiss her at the minister's urging. Adéla smiled widely at him as he pulled away, holding tightly onto his hands – almost as if she was never going to let go.
Outside the chapel, after everything had been signed and they were walking through the subdivision they lived in on their way home, James noted this fact.
"Not that I don't want you to hold my hand, Mrs. Potter," Adéla rolled her eyes at him. "But you can ease up on the death grip."
She pouted slightly then, but loosened her hold anyway, stopping him and pulling his head down to hers for a kiss.
'But you don't understand,' she thought. 'It's not about me letting go. I don't want you to ever let go of me.'
England, Halloween 1981
Horror etched across his usually mischievous features, James stood stock still for a heart stopping moment before running as fast as he possibly could for the nearest secluded corner and apparating to Godric's Hollow.
"LILY!" he yelled. When he couldn't find them anywhere on the first floor, he tried again. "LILY, WE HAVE TO GET OUT NOW!"
Lily suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs, which James was rushing up to meet her. Confusion flitted across her face for a millisecond before determination replaced it. As James reached her, she turned and fairly ran into Harry's room, scooping up as James grabbed a bag from the floor. Seconds later they were both rushing down the stairs, doing their best to reach their living room and fireplace before it was too late. James had only just stepped off of the last stair when their back door clicked shut, stopping them dead in their tracks. James turned to Lily, who was standing stiffly behind him. Harry was staring up at his father, silent, but looking utterly terrified, mirroring the emotions running through his parents at that time.
"Lily, take Harry and RUN! I'll hold him off."
Lily didn't even bother to nod, but turned and was sprinting up the stairs before he'd even finished speaking. James didn't stop to watch her go. Heart pounding, he stepped out into the hallway, turning to face the man – no, thing that was trying to kill his family.
It was strange, actually, his duel with Voldemort. For some reason it felt as if he was elsewhere, his body automatically blocking and firing curses at his opponent. His mind was completely occupied with the events of that evening, the horrible non-conversation he'd had with Peter Pettigrew now playing over and over again through his thoughts.
"Pete," he'd said, trying his best to remain calm. "Pete, what's been going on with you lately?"
His 'friend' had looked at him then, mockingly, and James had known, known what he'd been trying to deny for the past week. They'd met several times since they decided on the switch, and each time, it was the same.
"So everything's set, then, Pete?"
"Yeah, Prongs," Peter smiled wanly. "Don't worry. I'll take care of it. You can trust me."
"Good," James responded. "Good. I just want this all over with. It's been hell lately – this is the easiest way out."
"Soon, James, soon." Peter said then. James narrowed his eyes.
"Soon? You can't promise me that much, Pete."
Peter sighed, before looking strangely at James. "But I wish I could, Prongs…this here thing – for you…I'm doing my best."
If James had been honest with himself, he'd known then; in fact, he'd had have to known for ages what Peter was planning to do. That evening, in the restaurant they'd met at, Peter hadn't even bothered to respond to James's query. He hadn't rushed off anywhere, but simply remained seated, looking at him triumphantly, and James's stomach had sunk with the horrible realization of what was imminent. He had run from the restaurant, disapparating as soon as he could and rushing back home – but it was all too late.
Too late; just like his latest blocking charm. In the back of his mind, he heard Voldemort's sibilant voice start to say the Avada Kedavra, the green bolt of light coming slowly, slowly towards him.
And as his world began to go black, James found that he was surprised. "Why," he thought. "I didn't even feel that."
Privet Drive, August 1996
"Hullo, Birthday boy!"
Harry couldn't help but scowl at his former professor. "It was two weeks ago," he grumbled, and Remus chuckled at the disgruntled look on Harry's face.
"Yes, yes, of course, but as I was unfortunately unable to properly congratulate you at the time, I thought I'd do so now."
The teen rolled his eyes, but grinned anyway at Remus's honest enthusiasm. "Sorry," he apologized sheepishly. "I mean, I'm used to not having a big hullabaloo on my birthday…but…I dunno. I guess was just a bit lonely, I suppose."
"The Dursley's are leaving you alone?" Remus asked, and Harry hastened to assure him that he was alright.
"Oh, yeah, but trust me, that's a good thing. Anyway…er…thanks. And for the present, too."
"Ah, you got it! Excellent. Well, I'm glad to hear that you're doing fine."
"Yeah," Harry told him, sitting down at his desk and pulling out various gifts. "I mean, I did get a lot of stuff. I guess everyone is so worried that I'll just Avada myself that they literally loaded me with presents. Even Dung sent me this watch – I dunno about wearing it, though."
Remus looked up at him sharply from his seat on the edge of Harry's bed, his face rather pale. Too late Harry realized the crudeness of his jest and flushed red.
"Sorry, Professor," he stammered. "I didn't mean it like that. But…you know…"
Remus stared calculatingly at him a moment longer, before nodding tightly. "Well, let me have a look at that watch for you."
Harry, grateful that Remus hadn't delved into that particular topic, gingerly handed him the inconspicuous looking gold watch that Mundungus Fletcher had sent him for his birthday. Remus turned it over a few times in his hands before tapping it with his wand. Moments later he turned a quirky grin up at Harry.
"Yes, I'd definitely avoid wearing that if I were you."
"Mm," Harry said, looking thoughtful. "Maybe I should give it to Dudley. I'm sure he'd appreciate it."
A small chuckle escaped Remus despite his best effort to appear disapproving. "Harry James Potter," he said. "Sometimes, Harry, you are eerily like your father."
Suddenly the room went very quiet, and Remus sighed, not bothering to look for the dull, closed off expression that he knew would be on Harry's face.
"So," he said, knowing what he had to say. "In my seventh year at Hogwarts, I was a prefect. One of the Ravenclaw prefects had just lost their badge for cheating-" Harry snorted, but kept his face firmly away from Remus. "And she was replaced by a girl called Cassandra Rosier."
Harry turned to look at him now, his eyes narrowed.
"Yes, Harry, it's the same family," Remus had anticipated Harry's question. "Cassandra was the younger sister of Evan Rosier, the Death Eater."
He had Harry's full attention now, and although he'd reminded him of James only minutes before, it was Lily he now saw in eyes of the boy before him. Slightly unnerved, he carried on. "I don't know why your dad and mum picked Peter over me, Harry, but I do know that Sirius didn't trust me at all then – and with fairly good reason. Cassandra and I were…involved, but we kept it a secret. I don't know how James and Sirius found out, but they were none too happy about it."
"And my dad trusted Sirius the most?" Harry asked, and Remus nodded.
"Why wouldn't he?" he asked. "They were like brothers."
Harry's shoulders sagged slightly, a frown creasing his forehead as he stared out of the window. Remus knew that he was thinking about it; he'd quite obviously given him the shortened, censored version of events. When Harry turned back to him, his gaze questioning, Remus didn't even bother to lie.
"No, that's not the whole story, Harry. And I can't tell you everything, simply because I don't know exactly what happened. I don't think anyone does, actually. There a few things I do know… but I want you to think hard about whether or not you want to hear a patched, broken version of events. Not because of your safety, or any of that nonsense…" he paused, inwardly pleased to see that this had persuaded Harry somewhat. "But because of all the doubts it causes – all the nights of unrest because no matter how much you try to make sense of things, you never know what really happened."
Harry was silent, staring at the floor now. Remus got up to leave, but paused by the door. "Harry, if you decide that you absolutely, still want to know, I'll tell you. It'll be my own warped version, but I'll tell you. If not…well, I'll drop by soon anyway. Take care, Harry."
"Er…you too, professor."
On his way out, Remus shook his head, trying his hardest not to think about Cassandra Rosier. He'd be stupid if he didn't know how James and Sirius had found out her; if he thought that Peter Pettigrew had nothing to do with the fact that she was found dead at twenty-one.
And yet, about so many things…he'd still been an idiot.
A/N: so, I've tried to give out a few more answers in this chapter…I really hope you liked it! Many thanks to all my reviewers – I love you all, I really do. It was a review that made me finish this – so keep them coming!
Carnivore- yes, I agree with you on the James count. I'm always ecstatic when I find a fic that portrays him as a person in his own right – I really hope I'm doing that here! As for some comeuppance…it's coming!
FroBoy – glad you liked it – will do my best with updatingDraco vs Romance – sorry about the confusion! Like I said before, there are several different intertwining plot lines – and I'm trying my best to make sure they stay together…but sometimes one strand may get away from me. I'm really glad you liked it anyway (makes me feel better about all the date confusion!)
tweeny-weeny – ooh, I'm glad you liked adéla worrying about her looks. That wasn't originally going to be part of that chapter, but when I was writing it, it seemed to come naturally (and it worked well in this chapter too!) As for James…I can't really say anything yet without spoiling the story (sorry!)
Cherrysinger – well, as long as the fifth book has been previously spoilt, I shan't worry too much (grins). I hinted at why James left (you know that whole part in italics? Don't forget that conversation) as well as continued the superficial explanation as to why he picked Peter and not Remus. I will expand on that, though. I really hope I didn't confuse you too much this time around! (p.s. okay, here you go…☺ - they didn't have a gold star – for amazing reviewing)
Telwyn Dubois – you've raised some really good points, so, let's see…Well, you're starting to find out why James left. Although…he left after Lily was dead – everything that was in the books about their 'deaths' still happened. About Adéla…you've got to remember that this is 16 years after Lily's death. To her, Lily is a distant figure, and James is clearly quite in love with Adéla for herself (see this chapter!) Still, she is clearly experiencing anxiety – she wants to look like herself, not his dead wife, and she's freaking out about him leaving her. I don't think that she'd have anything to be furious about, though. Hope that helps!
Lovin'Moony – I'm glad you liked cfw101. You know what? That idea of yours is a good one; not the way I was originally going to do it...but still, very interesting. Hmm. It will be Peter and Juliana who give away James's non-deadness, though. And about Lily and James – every couple fights, right? I just though that under all that incredible stress, tempers were bound to be lost (and you'll see more of that soon!)
So I'm trying to give you all more answers now, without giving away the entire story or confusing the daylights out of you. Please review and let me know how I'm doing! - Laren