A/N: Look who it is! Yes, yes, I know what I said before, but I think you can now pretty much rely on the fact that my posting is utterly unreliable. So enjoy! (This is especially dedicated to Swordsmistress, who is being a good girl and doing her homework instead of reading my story. sniff!)

Disclaimer: Do I still need this? Is there honestly anyone out there who doesn't know that this is all J.K.R's?

Of Cowards and Heroes

Chapter 14

Unknown Location, November 19th 1996

"Gentlemen…"

"Ahem."

"Miss Tonks, my apologies," Albus Dumbledore nodded respectfully towards the grinning young woman before continuing, his tone considerably more serious. "I understand that you have been investigating the matter with regards to Pettigrew?"

Glances were exchanged. They'd all known that they'd be called to account for the hours they'd spent poring over the old family trees, to give answers…and they had got answers…two sets of answers, in fact. Remus sighed, and inclined his head towards the other two.

"Severus, Tonks…"

"Albus," Snape began, "you understand that we had had some delay. There was concern over the woman with them…and we have been unable to identify her as of yet. However, upon further examination, as well as some of my own…ahem…first hand knowledge, we now believe that it is a vendetta, albeit one held by Malfoy."

Remus sat impassively throughout Snape's prepared speech. More likely than not, it was simply a drive for revenge that spurred Malfoy and the others on, and, as Snape was then saying, revenge against one of their own, one of the many who had recanted their support for Voldemort when his first 'reign of terror' had ended. It made complete sense, the logic behind the theory sound. Of course Pettigrew would be involved – his closeness to Voldemort in recent years would ideally place him for such an endeavour, and the others, including Malfoy, were fairly self-explanatory.

The woman…yes, that had presented a slight problem, but as Tonks now took over and pointed out, there was no shortage of Deatheater wives and widows, women who shared their husbands' allegiances and would be only too happy to involve themselves. Still…

"You disagree, Remus?"

The sandy-haired man winced; he should have known that Dumbledore would pick up on his unease. He had, in fact, planned to bring the matter to Dumbledore quietly, to make the older man aware of what was troubling him. Remus had found himself remembering the words he'd spoken to Harry that summer, telling him his own, patched version of Cassandra Rosier's death, and his distress at never knowing the whole story. 'But you solved, that, remember?' an inner voice countered. Remus frowned, and then suddenly realized that everyone around him was silent, not having being privy to his inner ramblings.

"Ah, yes, sorry. I…" he took a deep breath. "I agree that Malfoy desires revenge, but the woman still gives me cause for concern, sir."

He could practically hear Snape roll his eyes, felt Tonks wince beside him, but Dumbledore held his gaze, the clear blue eyes willing Remus to continue.

"The name Zabini springs to mind, sir, and I am at a loss to explain why."

"Not again, Lupin," Snape interjected, unable to contain himself. "How on earth could a fifteen year-old child have anything to do with the matter at hand?"

"Well, a certain sixteen year old has everything in the world to do with it," Remus returned, similarly unable to restrain his tongue. "So perhaps she is involved…in some way or another."

"Disgusting, really," Snape snapped. "a grown man, completely fixated by a mere chit of a girl."

"Severus," Dumbledore cautioned, but Remus, angered for some intangible reason, had already turned rather heatedly towards Snape.

"So now she's simply a 'mere chit of a girl? Why, it was just a couple of weeks ago that you were praising her to the skies. 'One of my Slytherins', I believe it was?"

Tonks, who had been enjoying the drama immensely, perked up, her curiousity getting the better of her. "Wait, wait…is this that scandal business again? The one with…what's her name…Natalie…Natasha…"

Dumbledore's head snapped up. "Nadia? Nadia Zabini? The daughter of Michael and Gabriella Zabini?"

Tonks stopped short, her hand in midair, her question turning into a rather serious statement. "You mean… my aunt Gabriella…Gabriella Black?"

The collective intake of air as all three men considered her words was swift. Dumbledore recovered first, his hands imploring the others to calm down. "The Zabinis are good friends with the Malfoys," he noted, inclining his head towards Severus. "But I understand that they never actually joined Voldemort, like so many others…but their allegiances were somewhat, flexible?"

"They didn't openly join Voldemort," Snape growled, annoyed that Remus' hunch had proved accurate. "They wouldn't have risked that, not after losing so much. It was all thanks to the Aurors of the time…which included one Stephen Potter."

The other two men nodded understandingly; Remus had even begun to rise from his seat, saying that he'd get to work in light of the new development, but Tonks shook her head, her face slightly red.

"Sorry," she began. "Stephen Potter is what relation to Harry? Uncle? Granddad? And I know he's not alive, so why would they be interested in him?"

"Grandfather," Remus said, slowly sitting back down again. Snape was frowning, and Dumbledore seemed to be carrying on a quiet dialogue with an unseen participant.

Snape looked up, suddenly, black eyes rather intently focussed on the wall behind Remus. "They went after him twice, actually," he said, hands working out unseen puzzles. "The first time, they killed his daughter, niece…and sister-in-law….who had been helping Potter and the Aurors…"

The last part he'd said in a rush, a rush he was still in as he rose abruptly and swiftly left the room. Dumbledore sighed, the age that came over him when he was worried settling heavily on to his face. Remus hissed, before covering his eyes and groaning slightly.

"What?" Tonks said, anxiously pulling Remus's hand away from his face. "Come on, you can't do that, what happened? Who was she?"

"They never found her body."

Both Remus and Tonks swivelled to look at the headmaster, who was rising, if not as swiftly as Snape had done, and gathering his robes about him.

"Remus, Tonks," he inclined his head slightly. "I am sure you have much to do."

"Alright, you," Tonks turned on Remus as soon Dumbledore had left the room. "Speak. Now."

And Remus told her, told her all about Julianna Malfoy.

Cassandra Rosier's flat, Halloween, 1981

The young man was frantically ripping apart boxes in his haste, desperation coming from him in waves. It had to be here somewhere, he knew it was there…that's what Remus had said, and for all his distrust of him over the past few months, James Potter knew that if there was anything he could trust Remus about it was this. Why would he lie? How could he know, otherwise? In his panic, he'd tried to reach Dumbledore – if only he could just explain the whole situation to him – Dumbledore would understand, he would know, and then there'd be no more trouble. But the older man had not been at Hogwarts, had not been anywhere that James could find, and so now he was in Cassandra Rosier's small flat, searching haphazardly through what looked like her storage closet.

Suddenly he heard the tell-tale sloshing of a Pensieve, and opened the box the sound came from, hands shaking as he tugged at its flaps. He sagged with relief as the shimmering silver surface came into view, wasting no time in plunging head first into the memories.

After some time, James pulled back, his face calm, pale and strangely still as he packed away the Pensieve. His hands acted as if on auto-pilot as they tidied the now messy closet, moving as if his brain had shut down, his body taking over and propelling him out of her flat and apparating him back to Godric's Hollow. Lily and Harry were laughing in the kitchen when he arrived, his son's baby giggles mixing with her lilting laugh as she flew a spoon around the room towards his open mouth.

The spoon, however, did not reach Harry; it had stopped in midair, Lily frozen at the sight of her husbands face.

"James?" she managed, concern etched onto her features. The only response she received, however, was the thud James made as he slumped onto the nearest chair, collapsing forwards onto the table with his head in his hands.

"Da?" Harry asked, twisting in his high chair to see his father. "Da?"

Lily, finally tearing her gaze away from James' hunched figure, took a deep breath and smiled at the rather confused little boy in front of her. "Daddy's just tired, Harry. Look at mummy, baby, here comes the airplane!"

By the time she'd finished feeding Harry, James had left the room. Even after she'd found him in the study that afternoon, Lily hadn't had the nerve to ask him what had happened. She would have left him there, but she heard the chair scrape back as he stood up, coming towards her with a slight smile on his face.

"Lils," he croaked, his voice slightly raw. "I'm sorry, Lils…today was…hard."

Lily attempted to smile, failed miserably, and found that all she could muster was half laugh, half cough. "Of course," she nodded, leaning forward to kiss him. "I know, James. I know."

He slid his arms around her, then, relieved that she understood, but Lily found that she couldn't keep silent.

"James, its Remus again, isn't it? I know he came by the other day, and you've been off since. James…I know it's hard to trust anyone right now, but please, trust me when I say that Remus means us no harm at all!"

It was evident from her shock that she meant to go on. James's cool "I do, Lils," left her mouth hanging open in an "O' of surprise, and he found himself genuinely grinning at the comical expression on her face. "I trust Remus, Lils."

"…Right. Of course. Sorry – I know – we went through this already." Lily grinned back at her husband, enjoying the relaxed smile on his face. "James,' she said, kissing him. "James Potter…"

"Yes, Mrs. Potter?"

"James, I..."

The large grandfather clock had been a joke present from Sirius, given to commemorate their moving to Godric's Hollow. It chimed every hour, on the hour, ridiculous songs in Sirius's voice pealing throughout the house. James had loved it instantly, but the songs had been changed, at Lily's insistence, to a simple statement of the time. It chimed rather loudly now, announcing to the small family that it was 5 o'clock on the day of October 31st, 1981. Lily sighed, and pulled away from James.

"Well, you'd better get going, hadn't you?"

James stared at her, his face betraying his bemusement. "Er…where, exactly?"

"Aren't you and Peter meeting up today? You said you had to go over a thing or two." The smile left Lily's face, mirroring her husband's deadened expression. "James?"

A few minutes later, James was weaving his way through a crowded pub. 'Yeah, I trust Remus,' he thought, waving to his slightly portly friend in the back of the small room. 'And…I trust Peter too.'

Hamilton, Canada, November 21st, 1996

"I trust you, James. Honestly. I…just…England, James, England? You can't be serious."

James sighed; he knew that he hadn't truly earned her trust, and could well understand the deep reluctance she was displaying. They both had pasts there, history…too much history, Adéla would point out, and it was quite reasonable for her to abhor any suggestion of moving back to live in the place they'd both tried to escape.

"No, baby, you don't trust me." He shook his head at her protest, smiling wryly. "And it's not like I've given you a lot of reason to do so, but please, I'm begging you here, Déla, just…hear me through, alright?"

When she nodded, relief flooded his body, drawing him down onto the couch beside her. He wrapped his arms around her as best as he could, earning himself a slight chuckle from her as he caressed her now large bump. He knew his wife, knew that once she'd listened, she'd agree. He spoke softly, haltingly, doing his best to explain why England was the last place anyone would look for them without worrying her too much.

It took her some time, though, to come to terms with the idea, to accept that moving to England was best for them. She favoured Australia, or New Zealand… "What about…the Congo, let's move to the Congo, baby," she said. "Who the hell is going to look for us in the Congo?"

James laughed at that, shook his head, and sighed. "Why the Congo? Why not…Hawaii? Fiji? Tahiti…"

"Yes!" Adéla sat up, her face excited. "Done deal – James we are so moving to Tahiti."

"Mm, yes, yes…" His face grew serious. "Sure, it'll be fine, for a few years, but what happens five years down the road, when we've got at least one little one running around the place and another on the way? How do we pack up and run when they come looking for us then, Déla?"

Silence reigned momentarily, interrupted only by a distant upstairs radio. Adéla was downcast, one hand holding James's hand and the other running constantly through her hair – "I swear, I never did that before I met you, James," she'd said once, "It's contagious!" – until she suddenly looked up at him, twisting her head around to rest on the chair back.

"So." She smiled, but there was little warmth behind it. "Why bother move? Why wait, if it's simply a matter of time?"

James, shrugged. He knew the answer to that question, knew why they should go back. But she wouldn't understand…there was no need to burden her with that right then…and then he laughed.

"What?" she asked him, curiousity piqued by his sudden mood upswing. "James...am I missing the joke, or…"

"You know," James stammered, still laughing. "If I hadn't been such a bloody hero before; If I had just told somebody, anybody…all I had to do was tell Lily, instead of keeping it all inside because I was the man of the house…"

Adéla snorted, ignoring the fact that he'd mentioned her. "You know how I feel about that crap," she grinned. "Spill, James."

It was so simple, really. And yet…it was the hardest thing he'd ever done. And all he had to do was tell somebody. All this time…

"Don't be a coward, now, come on!" Adéla urged him, and so he told her.

This time it wasn't quite so life-changing a statement; in the long run, quite life-preserving, most likely, but nothing too spectacular. In fact, once he'd said that "We'll need protection…when they find us" she'd understood – from that one moment, it had been decided that they'd move back to England, and without any fuss, they'd begun planning in earnest.

Don't be a coward…

And the whole time, he'd thought he was such a hero.

A/N: right, there you go, another chapter. If I can promise you one thing, it's that I will actually finish this story. One day. Seriously. Many thanks to all those who reviewed last time around…again, it was a review (from silverlodi) that got me to write this chapter (as usually happens). If you like it, let me know…if you don't…tell me anyway! – Laren.