1981
It was a grey afternoon – early August. The air moved slowly, hinting at an approaching storm. Alice Longbottom watched as a coffin was lowered into the ground. Not one but five, side by side, into one plot of land. A hand grabbed onto hers and she looked up to see Frank's brown eyes filled with tears. If the scene was difficult for him to witness it was agony for Alice. She was forced to watch as one of the people she cared most about was put to rest forever.
It was hours later that the Longbottoms returned home, relieving Augusta of her babysitting duties. After dinner, Alice found herself three bedtime stories deep, swaying slowly in the rocking chair in the corner of her son's bedroom. Neville had drifted asleep in his mother's arms, breathing softly. Usually, she would've put him to bed long before, but not tonight. Tonight she needed to feel his heartbeat against her chest and the tickle of his warm breath on her neck as he slept peacefully.
"You're going to fall asleep if you stay there any longer," Frank observed from the doorway. He was smirking, his arms folded against his chest.
"I don't appreciate these moments enough..."
"There's a hundred more waiting for you."
"We don't know that for sure." It was an honest answer, one they'd all been too afraid to accept for years.
"Al…"
"This wasn't supposed to be her ending," Alice said with certainty. "There was supposed to be more."
"I know," Frank agreed. They could stand there and say it all day but it was never going to bring her back.
Marlene woke up in bed shivering, her skin exposed to the world outside her blanket. An arm stretched out from across the bed, wrapping tightly around her.
"Blanket hog," she grumbled, rolling into Sirius' chest.
"Sorry, must've taken them all somewhere in-between your snoring."
"I do not snore!" Marlene exclaimed.
"So that must've been the other person sleeping next to me all night?"
"Well, if it's such a bother to you—"
Sirius chuckled, pulling her in close once more. He draped the blankets around both of them, his lips pressed to Marlene's temple.
"I'm not complaining," he promised. It felt nice like that, the heat shared between them, the feeling of his body pressed tight against her. Marlene wouldn't give it up for the world. Of course, she hadn't much choice.
They were drawn back into reality only a few moments later when Lily's knocking sent them flying out of bed.
"Marlene?" she called. "Why on earth have you got the door locked?"
"I'm changing!" Marlene lied. She scrambled from the bed, ignoring the extra body that remained. She'd been staying with Lily and James since the latter had returned home from the hospital. She was the only one who knew about Lily's secret and didn't like the idea of her overexerting herself. The only downside to that was the lack of time Sirius and Marlene had to make up for the separation they'd finally ended.
Marlene scrambled to find her pyjama pants and the first t-shirt she saw. She opened the door, only wide enough for Lily to see her.
"Let me in, I need to talk," Lily insisted.
"You've got a whole house for that, haven't you? Why does it have to be in my room?"
"It feels more private!" Lily hissed. Marlene knew she wasn't going to be able to get her friend to budge, rolling her eyes as she let the door swing open. Lily's jaw dropped, a grin sneaking up upon her face as she caught sight of Sirius sprawled across the bed.
"I thought you were fighting!"
"We were."
"She forgave me," Sirius piped in proudly.
"Did you have to make up in my guest bed?"
"Heat of the moment," Sirius shrugged.
"Okay, Mr. Jokester. How about you get some clothes on and then go spend a little quality time with your friend?" Lily suggested. "He's anxious to be out of bed, you can lift his spirits."
Sirius followed his orders with no questions asked. He left the door opened behind him, Lily sliding it shut very carefully, as though she didn't want anyone to know there was whispering going on behind closed doors.
"I couldn't do it," she admitted shamefully.
"Lily," Marlene scolded her. "It has been two weeks since you told me. It's not going to be so easy to keep this up soon," she gestured towards her friends soon to be expanding stomach.
"He's just so grumpy all the time." Lily began to pace the length of the room anxiously, biting her fingernails as she went. "He's been cooped up in bed for a week now and all he ever does is complain about how much he hates it."
"Maybe this will be a little piece of good news," Marlene proposed optimistically. Lily paused only for a moment to glare at her.
"Oh yeah, I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear that he's going to be a father at twenty-one. It's not as though only a month ago he was talking about how foolish he thought Frank and Alice were."
"Well, it's easy to think it's a mistake when it isn't your baby."
"You talk as though you have experience."
She didn't really. Marlene had never been pregnant herself, just scared she might be. It was a rare occasion for her to be late but it had happened, once, a month after she'd had sex with Henry for the last time. On top of losing someone she truly cared about she'd spent a week petrified that she might have something new to worry about.
She hadn't told anyone, of course, but she'd had a lot of time to think about what she might do if her period never came. Would she keep the baby? Would she make a good mother? Somewhere in the middle of all that she'd realised how easy it was to judge others until you found yourself in their shoes. Faced with the prospect of a baby, Marlene couldn't imagine herself as anything other than a loving mother.
"I'm just speaking as a friend," Marlene glossed over the comment. "I know James Potter. He can step up to the plate when he needs to. He might be scared at first but he can do this, and so can you, Lily."
"I don't know," she confessed, sitting down beside Marlene on the bed. "I wake up every morning and I'm paralysed with fear. I always thought that when the time came for me to be a mother it'd be planned. I'd be ready, you know? I didn't expect that I'd be an unemployed soldier in the midst of a war that I was losing."
Marlene could see the panic in her friend's eyes. She ran a hand along her back, easing some of the tension.
"People already think we're idiots for marrying so young, what're they going to say now? When they realise that we're really in over our heads?" Lily dropped her head into her hands now, her voice cracking as she spoke. "What is my sister going to say?"
"Fuck Petunia." Marlene had always disliked her anyway. "She married Vernon Dursley, for Merlin's sake, has she really got the right to judge anyone?" There was a short pause and then Marlene heard a chuckle from her friend. Lily's face resurfaced with a smile upon it.
"That's true," she smirked.
"Fuck everyone else, too," Marlene assured her friend. "It doesn't matter if Albus bloody Dumbledore thinks you're making a mistake, it's your life. This baby is going to be so lucky, Lily. It's going to have so many people who love it. Besides, part of me feels like everything is coming full circle."
"How so?" Lily asked.
"Well, Caroline and Maureen were best friends and they had two kids at the same time who ended up best friends. Maybe you and Alice can do the same."
Marlene watched as the colour returned to her friend's face. This was supposed to be the happiest time of Lily's life and instead, Marlene had watched her spend most of it suffering alone.
"I like the sound of that," she smiled.
1995
It was of little surprise to Remus that he found Sirius hidden away in his bedroom, the light from outside shut out by dark curtains, his face buried in a book. Remus tapped on the door to catch his friend's wandered attention, smirking.
"Molly's downstairs," he announced. "Cleaning like a mad woman."
"I'll avoid that for a little while longer," Sirius grumbled.
"She did find something interesting…." Sirius' interest peaked at the suggestion. Remus had been unsure of whether he should show his friend what Molly had discovered. Even fourteen years later old wounds were easy to reopen.
From his back pocket Remus produced a photograph used for a funeral, a quote scrawled across the back.
"Death lies on her, like an untimely frost upon the sweetest flower of all the field," he read aloud.
Sirius' face dropped and quickly he crawled from his bed to snatch the photograph from his friend's hand. He stared down at it as though it were a piece of lost treasure, something he hadn't laid his eyes upon in years. Remus realised, with a sink of his stomach, that he probably hadn't.
Remus understood the pain of love lost. Luckily, though, he'd had the time and space to recover. Sirius, on the other hand, had been stuck in limbo for twelve years, locked up in Azkaban, his life unable to progress. In some ways, he was still the twenty-one year old he'd been the last time Remus had seen him.
"There's something else I've been meaning to pass along," Remus explained. "I figured you'd appreciate it a little more than me." He handed over a picture, an old one from one of the Potters' New Years party, of the whole gang. "I grabbed it from James and Lily's soon after everything happened…"
"Who would've thought we'd be the last two standing?" Sirius reflected sadly.
"We've still got Emmeline around... and Mary…." Remus knew what Sirius meant, though. It wasn't the same. Those they'd been closest to were gone. Dead, or worse: stuck in a horrible state like Frank and Alice. Remus had never been able to bring himself to visit them. It was almost more painful to see his friends and realise the people they once were had disappeared forever.
"We're not the young ones anymore, I suppose," Remus admitted, struggling not to sound defeated by the fact.
"No," Sirius agreed. "I suppose we aren't."
Emmeline's heart was in her throat as she arrived on the doorstep of the Prewett family home. It was a late Wednesday afternoon. She was hopeful that most of the house's inhabitants would be at work; sans the recovering patient, she'd come to see.
It was Molly, Gideon's older sister, who answered the door. She had shoulder length curly red hair and large brown eyes. Her skin was pale, freckles scattered along her cheeks. Emmeline had met her a handful of times at family gatherings, never having to share more than a few words with her. She'd always thought her pretty, at least, she carried with her the shadow of youthful beauty, eroded by the effects of sleepless nights, a mortgage, and five little children.
Of course, it was not Molly's beauty that drew the attention in her appearance, rather the baby bump upon which she rested her hand.
"Emmeline," Molly greeted her kindly.
"I was hoping I might see Gideon."
"Why don't you come inside," Molly suggested, opening the door for her. "I'll see if he's awake."
Emmeline waited in the living room. Molly had brought her children over with her, five boys buzzing around the home so fast Emmeline could hardly keep track of them. She was amazed that one woman could manage so many tiny bodies at once.
Bill, the oldest of the children, guided their games. The boys played hide and seek, Percy always managing to lose the game one way or another as the youngest player always does. He complained about it often but his older brothers paid him little mind.
The twins, Fred and George, were too small to join. Instead, their attention was fixated on a collection of toys laid out for them in the centre of the living room carpet. Every once in awhile Fred would wander over to the couch and offer Emmeline one of his toys, prodding her to play with him.
Molly had been gone quite a while when she finally came wandering back down the stairs. She gave Emmeline a tired smile as she entered the living room.
"You can go up," she told her. Emmeline wasn't sure whether the news was reassuring or terrifying. She hadn't seen Gideon since his accident, despite having shown up to the hospital nearly every day and forcing Mary to go into his room and check on his condition.
Now, without Mary there as a buffer, Emmeline was forced to face the situation on her own. She travelled the familiar route to Gideon's bedroom, tapping on the door before she stepped inside.
He was lying in bed, propped up against his pillow. His eye was still badly bruised and his arm remained in a sling.
"Hey," Emmeline spoke softly. It felt like such a silly phrase. There was so much more she wanted to say. She wanted to discuss all that had happened in the weeks since they'd been apart, she wanted to crawl into bed with him and hold him tight just to remind herself that he was still there.
"I wasn't sure you'd come," he admitted. Honestly, she hadn't been either. She'd wondered whether he'd even want to see her, worried that seeing him again would only make the pain of their separation worse.
"How're you feeling?" Emmeline kept her distance. She remained across the room, far enough that one could still make a swift exit. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her, her thumbnails digging into her hand as the tension in the room grew.
"Like shit," Gideon scoffed. "Haven't been allowed to get out of bed on my own for nearly two weeks now. Not to mention Molly's been a real pain in my ass."
"That's what big sisters are for, I suppose."
"Can you believe she's going to be a mother of six in a few weeks?"
"She can't be human," Emmeline concluded rationally. "No human could do what that woman does."
"I can barely handle three of those kids in a room at once," Gideon agreed.
Emmeline knew the small talk between them was all just a way to put off what they both knew came next. She cleared her throat, the words she'd rehearsed in her head before arriving at the front door lost.
"Permission to approach the enemy?" she asked, only half-jokingly. It got a smile on Gideon's face – reassurance enough that she was doing okay.
"I think that might be allowed."
Emmeline made a slow approach, sitting on the edge of the bed. It was the closest she'd been to him since their last fight a few days after New Years. The fight in which Emmeline had proclaimed she was finished – there was nothing left between the two of them.
"When Fabian told me you were hurt…"
The memories of that night came flooding back, unsettling Emmeline as she tried to remain clear minded. The way her stomach had sunk when she'd seen the look in Fabian's eyes. She'd worried for at least five seconds that Gideon was dead. Their final conversation would be one filled with animosity and rage.
"I know," Gideon agreed. "We left it poorly."
"I've been spending the past two weeks trying to figure out how to fix this," Emmeline admitted. "The minute I knew you were in trouble all I could think about was how much I love you..."
"I got a similar feeling when Mary told me that you hid out in the waiting room every day and made her come check on me."
"That traitor!"
"It was nice to know," Gideon assured her. "At first I was worried you didn't care anymore…" The idea he could believe that for a second broke her heart.
"Gideon, I love you," Emmeline told him, not a stutter in her voice. Her throat tightened as she approached the second half of her sentence. "But…"
"Don't say it," Gideon pleaded with her. He reached out with his free hand, placing it on top of her knee. "If you say it then it's over."
"Pretending that it's not there isn't going to stop it from coming," Emmeline told him, her throat closing up on her.
"I'd just like to believe that one day, when all of this warfare has gone away, maybe we can figure it out." It was impossible to keep her eyes dry now. How was someone not supposed to absolutely melt with a comment like that?
"I don't want to be with anyone else," Gideon told her. Emmeline had her head bent, his hand reaching out to stroke her strawberry blonde locks behind her ear. The feeling of his touch made goosebumps flood her skin.
"I don't want anyone else," Emmeline agreed. So where did that leave them? Unable to be together but stuck in constant limbo? Waiting until things grew simple enough for them to be together again?
"It's not the end, Emmy," he promised her. "I'm not going to let this be the end."
"But if it is…"
"It's not—"
"If it is," she repeated. "You made me so happy, Gid, more than I ever thought possible. I'm just really grateful that we had this chance."
It was impossible. Emmeline thought that she'd grown comfortable with goodbyes, it seemed they were a necessary part of her life, but Gideon was different. He wasn't her parents, rushing off on another trip around the world, leaving their daughter to fend for herself. He wasn't her grandmother, the only true parent she'd ever known, lost to the ravages of age.
Gideon was a constant. The only true constant she had – Mary aside. For over a year he'd been a part of her life every day, the warmth beside her in bed, the arms that held her at night, and now he'd be gone. The realisation broke her heart.
"Come here," he said, his voice cracking. He spread out his good arm, Emmeline stretching out across his bed, her long legs dangling off the end of it. She rested her head on his chest; warm from a day cosied up in bed, and let his fingers tangle in her long hair.
This was goodbye.
1993
Mary Cattermole was easy to miss. She hadn't always been that way, of course. In school, she'd been loud, a force to be reckoned with, a bright smile in a sea of students, a familiar face at parties. No one could predict the quiet and traditional woman she was to become. Of course, no one could've predicted the tragedies she would be forced to endure either.
There was one place in particular that Mary managed to stay noticed. Each Sunday she found the time to visit the Janus Thickey Ward in St. Mungos. She would bring with her a bouquet of peonies. It seemed a strange choice but it was the flower that reminded Mary most of Alice Longbottom.
"Afternoon, Ms Cattermole," the regular Healer, a middle-aged woman with large glasses, greeted her after allowing access into the ward. "Come for another visit, I see? And another gorgeous bunch of flowers you've got."
"They seem to cheer her up," Mary shrugged, tucking a strand of dull brown hair behind her ear.
"They'll be happy to see you." The Healer smiled, guiding Mary down the row of beds to the two that Alice and Frank resided in.
"Hi there, beautiful," Mary greeted her old friend, standing at the foot of Alice's bed. Her brown eyes were empty as she stared back at Mary. It was not an unusual sight but it still managed to tear Mary up inside every time.
After a while, Alice's gaze focused on the flowers. She looked from Mary to the bundle in her arms until they were finally handed over to her.
"Thought you might like these," Mary smiled. "You had them at both of your weddings, you know." Alice wasn't listening, her attention wholeheartedly on the beautiful flowers in her lap. "No," Mary realised with defeat. "I suppose you don't."
The curtain was drawn from the bed beside Alice's and Frank's head poked out. He hadn't been shaven in a few days, a line of stubble covering his face. He, just like his wife, stared at Mary with a blankness in his eyes, and then wandered off to the other end of the ward, his attention caught by something other than the old friend who stood before him.
Alice, still transfixed by the peonies, began to tug their petals off one by one, eventually climbing out our her bed to make a trail of them. Mary watched, struggling to keep back her tears. She wondered if perhaps, some small ounce of the girl she'd known still existed. Maybe the memory of that aisle of peonies Alice had walked down when she was married in Donovan's was still hidden in her brain.
"Oh, Alice!" a Healer exclaimed, passing by the scene. "You've made a mess!"
Alice paid no attention to the scolding she was receiving, carrying on dropping petals where she stepped. The Healer, not quite as patient as Mary, eventually tugged the bouquet from Alice's hands. Her brown eyes began to fill with tears and her bottom lip quavered.
"Back into bed," the Healer demanded. "Come on now, that's enough. No tears, we're a big girl." Mary stepped aside, watching as one of her closest friends, one of the most intelligent women she'd ever known, was treated like an irrational child.
Once she had Alice tucked away the Healer turned back to look at Mary, her eyes filled with remorse. Did she know the feeling? The pain that seared through one when they realised the person they loved was gone?
"I…I have to go," Mary insisted. Without another word, she shuffled from the ward as quickly as her feet could carry her. She only ever lasted a few minutes, almost always caught overwhelmed. Reg couldn't understand how she managed to return every week.
Mary turned into the nearest bathroom to clean herself up. She'd need to return home soon and face her children, none of whom would respond well to a crying and distraught mother.
It was haunting to realise how old her reflection had grown in the years that had passed. The skin lost its youthful brightness and her once thick hair had gone flat. With a swipe of a tissue, Mary wiped away any smudged makeup, turning to toss her garbage away.
Her eye caught on the Daily Prophet that rested on the top of the pile.
Sirius Black Escaped From Azkaban
On a day filled with nostalgia, it was difficult not to taste bile in her throat upon reading the name. The name of a man she'd once considered a friend. One who had betrayed the trust of everyone that had loved him.
"Frank," Alice sighed, "for the hundredth time, I'm okay."
"The Healer said bed rest."
"The Healer also said that I was in the clear," Alice reminded her husband. He had insisted on serving her breakfast in bed for the past week. The three injured were all confined to their homes until further notice and no one was too happy about it.
"Regardless, you and our little bump are staying put."
Alice knew there was no point arguing. She simply lifted up her arms and let Frank place the breakfast tray over her legs. Quite honestly, she was lucky Augusta had yet to be called in for reinforcement. Frank had taken the week off work, knowing well that his wife would find a way to sneak out of bed otherwise.
The attack had been a shock for both of them, and a reminder to Alice how fragile their family was. She couldn't risk losing it all, not again. She'd told Moody, upon his visit while she was in the hospital, that she wasn't going to continue fieldwork until after the baby was born. The thought of the next six months spent stuck in an office made Alice's head spin but it was the only way to keep her child safe.
"Frank," Alice said, piercing a piece of grapefruit with her fork. "Your hovering is freaking me out."
"Is there anything I can do that isn't going to get on your nerves?"
"Probably not," Alice told him honestly. It was difficult not to grow a short fuse when you were barely allowed to walk out of the bedroom.
"You know what we haven't talked about yet?" Frank suggested, sitting beside Alice on the bed. "Baby names."
"Well, we do have six months to go."
"What about getting a head straight if we're going to be stuck here?"
Alice hadn't had much time to think about baby names. Everything felt like it was moving so fast, she could barely believe she was already beginning to get the hint of a baby bump, names had been the farthest thing from her mind.
"I'd like for their name to be meaningful in some way," Alice suggested. "Not just a random choice from a book."
"Well," Frank smiled, "I was thinking that, for a girl, we might call her Debra." The suggestion brought tears to Alice's eyes. She'd completely overlooked naming the baby after their parents who had passed away. She liked the idea of having a daughter to honour her mother through, not to mention she knew her mother would be thrilled by the prospect were she still alive.
"Come here," she directed her husband, who'd been on her nerves only a second ago. She pressed her lips to his softly. Frank leant down as their lips parted, kissing the hint of a bump Alice hid beneath her t-shirt.
"You don't think Augusta might be a better fit?" Alice teased as Frank sat up straight again.
He smirked, stealing a piece of bacon from Alice's over piled plate. "No, I think we'll let the grandkids have that one."
Alice giggled, her husband joining in. They were sure to receive many snide remarks if Augusta didn't work its way in as a middle name at the least. Alice was about to offer Frank another bacon strip when they both nearly jumped from their seats at a knock coming from the bedroom door. Alice was grateful not to have spilt her tray of food.
"It's Remus," a muffled voice announced. He cracked the door open, peaking in at the couple guiltily. "Sorry, the front door was unlocked."
"You scared us half to death," Frank exhaled as Remus stepped into the room.
"Sorry," he smiled sheepishly. "I was just hoping I could talk to the patient?"
"Try not to get on her nerves," Alice heard Frank say as he passed Remus on the way out.
"Cheeky bastard!" she shouted after him.
Remus lay across Frank's side of the bed, hands folded over his stomach, eyes facing the ceiling. Alice could tell, without a word, that something was troubling him.
"What?" she fretted. She smoothed back some of her friend's floppy brown hair. "You need to eat more," she began to lecture him, forgetting he hadn't come by to be mothered. "Take some of my eggs—"
"I'm not starving, Alice—"
"Please, Frank thinks to eat for two means I have the appetite of half a village. I'll burst."
"Just to be clear, this is a favour for you," he said, digging the fork in. With some food in his stomach, Alice waited for him to talk. Food always seemed to loosen Remus up.
"What's on your mind?" Alice asked once more. "You're stressing out the pregnant lady."
"Are you going to use that one on me for the next six months?"
"Possibly," Alice admitted.
Remus sighed heavily, leaning into the pillow behind him. Alice watched as his tired eyes closed delicately, fluttering open to look at her sadly.
"You're going to think I'm crazy."
"Try me," she urged him. Alice thought it unlikely there was anything Remus could say that would turn her off of him. He was one of her closest friends and she didn't plan on changing that anytime soon.
"Something is just…off…with Sirius."
"Off?" Alice repeated.
"He's been strange recently. Leaving the Christmas dinner early, attacking Marlene like that, disappearing for days at a time."
"You disappear for days as well," Alice reminded him. She knew what Remus was hinting at and she didn't like it one bit. This was what happened when wars dragged on and people grew frustrated, fingers began to point. "It's Order work."
"What if it isn't, though? What if it's something more…"
He wasn't joking. She could see in his tired, brown eyes that he was convinced one of his oldest friends had turned sour. Alice had imagined the destruction of relationships but the Marauders had not been one she had thought needed worrying about.
"Remus," she spoke sternly. "He's your best friend."
"What if we're being naïve, Alice? We know there's a spy among us. Someone is leaking information and we're just… standing by!"
"What if it's me?" she demanded. "What if it's James? We can't start to accuse one another. The minute we do that the whole team falls apart. Do you have any proof? Any valid evidence that Sirius could be the spy?"
Remus folded his arms, sulking quietly. She knew he was angry she didn't agree but she couldn't. To feed into Remus' conspiracy was to jeopardise the entire operation. It was one of the first things they learned in Auror training - never turn on your teammates.
"Well," he started, "his last name does give him something of a motive."
"Look at me." Alice's tone was commanding; she held an uncanny resemblance to a mother scolding her child. Remus turned to her with a guilty look on his face. "You know better than anyone else how unfair that is. Think about what you're saying. This isn't you. Have you told anyone else about this?"
"No," he mumbled, his head bowed now.
"Don't pursue this, Remus. Look at me," Alice begged him now. His brown eyes travelled up and she held them in her own for a while before beginning to speak. "I'm begging you not to let yourself go down this road." She meant it to. Alice couldn't bear the thought of their whole team, a gang of friends that had been united in their fight for so many years now, crumbling. "For me," she said, taking her friend's hand in her own. "Don't ruin your friendship."
"Okay," Remus agreed, the vindication in his voice long gone. "I'll forget about it."
"You're just tired," she assured him. "We all are."
Alice hoped in her heart that it was true. When this war was over and all the violence was gone they'd be back to normal.
1995
It was raining heavily as Emmeline Vance landed with a splash on the muddy terrain behind the Burrow. Her hair dripped with water she trudged forward, mud tracking up her jeans. She was freezing, shivering in the cold as she banged on the back door praying someone answered. Luckily, hope arrived in the form of Molly Weasley.
"Merlin, how long have you been stuck out in that weather?"
"Few hours," Emmeline admitted.
"Second-floor first door on the left, there should be clean towels in the closet. You take a warm shower and I'll whip you up something to eat."
"That's not necessary, Molly—"
"Nonsense. Now go."
Emmeline knew better than to argue with Molly, tugging off her mud-stained boots before she made her trek upstairs. She was thankful for the witch's insistence once she stepped into the warm mist of the shower. She washed the dirt from her body, watching it circle down the drain as she stepped out fresh as a daisy.
There was a tap on the bathroom door, and when Emmeline pulled it open she found a pile of clean clothes waiting. Somehow Molly managed to think of everything.
She changed quickly into what she assumed were the belongings of Ginny Weasley, away at school. A Holy Harpies t-shirt and a pair of track pants. Emmeline was amazed at her ability to fit her thirty-six-year-old body into a fourteen-year-old's wardrobe.
"Better?" Molly asked when Emmeline reemerged. Her strawberry blonde hair, cut to her shoulders, dripped water down her back as she settled at the kitchen table.
"Yes, thanks for the clothes too."
"Oh, it's no trouble. Ginny's not wearing them, clearly."
Emmeline could see that with all of her children out of the house, off to Hogwarts or prosper in the world on their own, Molly was lonely. Emmeline still remembered what the Weasley family had looked like before all of their children had grown and a second war had plagued them. Back when Molly had seemed to always be followed by the patter of small feet when it seemed she was constantly welcoming a new member of the family.
"Here we go," Molly announced proudly. A bowl of hot pea soup floated towards Emmeline, followed by a plate of toast. She was hungrier than she cared to admit, the feeling of food sliding down her throat giving her shivers. There was nothing like a belly full of hot food after prolonged hunger.
"It's scary," Molly said suddenly. She had sat down in the chair across from Emmeline, her chin rested in the palm of her hand. "The kids…they remind me so much of you guys back in the day."
The memory was one Emmeline would've rathered not have. She spent a lot of time trying hard not to remember the past. It didn't bring her happy memories to reflect on. Instead, it was filled with ghosts, ones she could never escape.
"Remus was by the other day," Molly continued. "He spends most of his time at Grimmauld Place, with Sirius of course. I find it difficult to stay in that house for too long…"
"I suppose there's a lot of catching up to do after twelve years apart."
There had been a time when Emmeline had been friends with the two of them. Of course, that was when things had been simpler. Before they'd all fallen out, the ones left before everything had turned to shit.
"I'm glad you came by, Emmeline," Molly told her. She stood up slowly, walking off into the living room only to emerge a few minutes later with a red velvet box. "I thought perhaps you might like this."
She slid the box down onto the table beside Emmeline, the witch staring at it curiously. When she flipped the top off she found a silver watch inside, G.P. engraved on the back of it. Emmeline ran it through her fingers. She wondered when it had been worn last…
"It was all I kept of them," Molly announced. "I've got Fab's too, but… well… I felt this one belonged to you."
Tears welled up in Emmeline's violet eyes. She wasn't sure she had the right to claim ownership of anything that had belonged to Gideon Prewett.
"I couldn't," she told Molly, her voice cracking.
"I should've given it to you years ago… it was difficult for me to back then, I was so angry after…."
"You don't need to explain yourself, Molly."
Emmeline understood better than anyone the anger that accompanied loss. She had lived through it more times than she wished to count. It felt strange to sit across from Molly, not as a young girl but an equal. So many times she'd passed through the Prewett house or attended a family gathering and looked up to Molly as a superior. Someone she might one day become… well, having a family had never quite worked out for Emmeline.
"He really did love you," Molly affirmed. The reminder didn't make it any easier on Emmeline. Fifteen years later and his loss still left an aching hole in her heart. She still thought of him, still remembered the feel of his touch and the way she'd felt in his presence. "Keep it," Molly said, her tone suggested no arguments should be made. "Really, I'll feel good knowing it's found the right home."
Emmeline slipped the silver watch around her wrist. Perhaps that was where it was meant to be. She looked back up at Molly once more, both women smiling now. It was rare to find Molly Weasley in such a sentimental state.
There was so much Emmeline wanted to say. When would it stop? All of the heartache and suffering? When would the bloody war end? She felt like she'd been fighting a losing battle since she was seventeen years old. Except it wasn't her battle anymore. The years had aged her and now the torch was being handed over, as it had done when she'd graduated.
"Thank you," Emmeline mustered. "For everything."
She wondered if she would ever age to carry the strength that Molly Weasley did.
James was exhausted from the endless flow of visitors that had been moving in and out of his room all day. While it was nice to know how many friends he had out there, he was glad to finally be alone. It felt like he could breathe once more as he sunk into the pillow behind him and took a deep breath.
It was a few minutes after this, as James felt on the edge of sleep, that he heard the front door close and the sound of soft footsteps making their way towards the bedroom.
"Lil?" James called out.
The door pushed open and in popped his wife. She had a sheepish smile on her face and a bag of takeout in her hand.
"I picked up Harry's," she announced. "Thought you might want to sit in bed and eat some takeout with me."
"Are you sure you're not going to call in Marlene to join us?" It hadn't escaped James that his wife had been avoiding him ever since he'd returned home from the hospital. She was always out of bed before he could wake up and seemed to be running countless errands throughout the day while someone else kept James company.
"No," Lily promised, climbing onto her side of the bed. "We've got the house all to ourselves tonight, I told Marley she could go back to her own place."
"What's going on in that head of yours?" James asked her. He watched the way her eyes dropped upon receiving the question and the way she anxiously played with her fingers in her lap.
"Nothing," she told him. Her eyes didn't quite meet his as she spoke. James couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her so weighted down by something. "It was just scary… when I saw you in that hospital bed…" her voice caught like a fish on a hook. James watched as her almond shaped eyes filled with tears. He couldn't do anything but watch as they tumbled down her cheeks.
"I'm really scared, James."
"I'm right here," he promised, hand reaching out for hers. That didn't seem to do much good. She stared down at it, looking back to James with fear hidden behind her eyes.
"Everything is going to change."
"What's going to change?"
She stared at him with purpose, like a statement sat on the edge of her tongue that she was just dying to spit out but she couldn't. James sat there, afraid of what might come next, and it never seemed to arrive. Instead Lily closed her eyes, the tears coming to halt, and opened them once more to give him a very serious look.
"Promise me you'll be more careful, James."
"You know that I always do my best—"
"I need better than that. I need to know that I'm not going to wake up a month from now a widow, alone in this house left to deal with everything by myself. That's the kind of thought that keeps me up at night. I'm twenty years old and all I can think about is who I'm going to lose next. Who is going to walk out the door for the last time without me knowing it?"
James sat up, with some difficulty, and wrapped his arms tightly around her, pulling Lily in close to his chest. Holding her where he knew she was safe. "I would make it all stop if I could," he told her, fingers running through her long red hair. He couldn't take away the pain, no one could. It had become a crucial part of their world; something they forgot was there until it surfaced in the most sickening of ways.
"I will always come home to you Lily Potter," he promised, placing a kiss on the top of her head. "Always."
It wasn't enough but, for now, it had to be.
