James peeled his eyes open slowly, the light filtering through them. There was a tall, blonde, woman before him, hands on her hips, a frown across her face. His neck ached from being slept on weird, crammed onto a tiny couch too small for his six foot two frame.

"Coffee," James demanded. Marlene was ahead of him, passing a mug in his direction.

"Time to talk," she told her friend. She tapped his legs, urging James to lift them up so that she could sit on the couch.

"I don't want to be lectured right now—"

"Well too bad. I didn't much feel like getting only two hours of sleep last night either but I was up all night with your wife."

"I'm the injured party here!"

"Don't be childish." Marlene rolled her eyes. Her approach was familiar. It reminded James so much of his mother, a firm and straightforward scolding. If Marlene was anything like his mum, she'd have him apologising for his behaviour by the end of their conversation.

"She lied to me for weeks!" James reminded her indignantly.

"You almost died on her," Marlene pointed out. "Then you were bedridden and grumpy. Can you imagine how you might have reacted then?" James had to admit, he would have struggled with being supportive at the time.

"What about before she went to get…." It was as though the word stuck in his throat, not wanting to come up. "An abortion," James finally choked out. "She was going to get rid of it, Mar. Without even telling me, without even giving me a chance."

James had thought that being married meant they didn't keep secrets from one another. He'd thought it made them a team. Nothing stung more than realising that Lily would rather handle such a big decision on her own than consult James.

"She was scared," Marlene answered simply. "She wasn't thinking rationally, she just wanted to feel normal again. It wasn't right, I think that's why she couldn't go through with it, but you can't torture her for that, James. You can't blame her for being afraid."

Marlene was right, of course. It didn't make it any easier to forgive Lily, though. James still felt a rage burn within him each time he thought about the weeks that had passed, the two of them living together, and Lily had never once told him the truth. Never once let James know that she was pregnant with his child.

"You know what I've been thinking about since she told me?" Marlene asked, breaking the silence. James' hazel eyes rose to look at her, urging her to continue. "What would Caroline have said were she here to witness it all?"

It was the kind of question that made James' stomach sink. It filled him with nostalgia and a deep need for his mother's comfort. God, he missed her, more than he'd ever thought possible. Now, more than ever, he wanted to run into her arms and feel her embrace, to know that everything was going to be okay. She'd run her fingers through his hair and hum to him until he knew James was strong enough to face the problem on his own.

"I thought about it a lot last night," Marlene explained. "What would she say if she could sit you down right now? If she knew about this whole situation."

"She would've told me to get off this couch and swallow my pride." James knew it surely. His mother wouldn't stand to see him sulking like a small child, hiding from his problems.

"She'd remind you what a good thing you have," Marlene told him. "Something that can withstand all of this."

"It isn't that easy, Mar…"

"She made a mistake." Marlene nodded. "She fucked up. She should have told you the truth, should have given you the chance to help, but haven't you ever messed up?" Marlene knew the question better than anybody. James stared off guiltily. He knew she was right. His mother would've knocked some sense into him were she here to witness his behaviour, but knowing that didn't make it easier for him to forgive Lily.

"You're allowed to be angry with her, James, just not like this."

James couldn't speak. Not because he didn't have lots to say but because the lump in his throat had grown so heavy he knew it would be impossible to hold back the tears. Marlene was right. For better or for worse, Lily was his wife. Angry or not, he wasn't allowed to run out on her.

"Come here," Marlene instructed, opening her arms for James to sink into. It wasn't his mother's embrace, but it was just as good.

"You know what else your mother would tell you?" she whispered, running her fingers through his hair comfortingly. James closed his eyes, pretending for a second it was his mother above him and not his best friend. "She'd remind you what an amazing father you're going to be."

"Oh, please." The idea of fatherhood was daunting. James was only twenty, not cut out in the slightest for the job. He still drank too much and slept in till eleven. Fathers were meant to be alert and aged, filled to the brim with wisdom. He would just be figuring out the answers for himself when his kid came asking questions.

"You're going to love them to death," Marlene promised him. "Not to mention they'll be a master of Quidditch." That much was for certain. "Regardless, they're going to be a Potter and, in my books, that's pretty damn special."

James hoped she was right.


Remus hadn't slept a wink. He had kept himself up the whole night recalling every terrible thing he'd ever done to Leila. It was a cruel form of torture he had decided to inflict upon himself. By half past noon, he had still failed to raise himself out of bed. He could hear Dorcas shuffling about the flat, getting the kettle going, taking a shower, but anytime she approached to check on him he clenched his eyes and pretended to be asleep.

It was difficult to speak to anyone, but especially Dorcas, who – in particular – reminded Remus of how selfish he had been in those final months he had spent with Leila. When he had snuck around behind her back and fallen in love with someone new. She hadn't deserved that. Remus had treated her like she was nothing, and now, in some way or another, she was.

He could hear the sound of the front door being opened and voices muttering quietly in the distance. Remus remained very still, anticipating the visitor he was certain to be receiving.

It was Dorcas who entered the room first, her light footsteps memorised by now. She squatted down in front of him, running her fingers through his floppy brown hair.

"Remus," she whispered. "Time to get up, sweetheart."

There wasn't much chance of avoiding the world now. Remus squinted at her face, which filled with pity.

"Someone's come to see you."

"I don't want any guests—"

"Too bad," she shrugged, her harder side coming out. She stood up, motioning someone forward, and a few seconds later it was Alice who crouched appeared before him.

"Hi there."

"Hi," Remus replied. He was relieved. If there was anyone he would want to stay by his bedside, it would be Alice.

"I'm going to leave you two to it," Dorcas announced, backing slowly from the room. "I'll be at the office if you need anything."

Without a word, Dorcas knew what Remus hadn't the strength to admit. It was too difficult for him to grieve with her around. He stayed quiet until he heard the front door shut and then he let the tears spill silently from the corner of his eyes.

"Oh, Remus," Alice sighed. "Come here." She climbed into bed with him, letting Remus rest his head in her lap while she continued to stroke his hair the way Dorcas had been. "Let it out," she told him. "Let it all out."

"I don't think I'll ever forgive myself," Remus sobbed, Alice humming comfortingly. "I was awful to her. I'm a monster. I destroyed that innocent girl I met at the Prewett's party."

Alice didn't bother talking. She didn't try and convince him he was wrong or remind him of all the good times he had shared with Leila. Instead, she stayed silent, letting Remus get it all out. He forgot that Alice had once experienced the overwhelming sensation of grief. Remus recalled the downward spiral it had sent her into. To mourn was a nasty process; to let go was nearly impossible.

"It's not fair," Alice agreed with him as Remus continued to soak her shirt with tears. "She didn't deserve this fate. You didn't deserve yours either. You were just a boy, all those years ago when Greyback bit you." Remus' own ailment had been the last thing on his mind. "Sometimes there is no justice."

"I just keep thinking about how she must've felt," he admitted, "all alone in that room. She wasn't even given the dignity of the death curse. They let her bleed out, probably terrified. She must've been so scared, Al…"

"I know."

"Isn't this what we're meant to be preventing with the Order?"

"We aren't perfect," she reminded him. "We can't save everyone."

"We should've saved her," he cried. "She deserved at least that."

"All we can do is keep on fighting. For all those innocent lives lost to this war. One day we'll face whoever killed her and they'll know what it feels like to be on the losing side. Don't lose hope, Remus."

"What if we're the bad ones, Alice?" he suggested darkly.

"If there's anything I've learnt from this job it's that the idea of good and bad is too simple. We fight for what we believe in. Everything we do we do because we think it's the right thing. Think of all the lives you've saved, Remus, think of all the people you've carried through tough times. You are not an evil person."

He wanted so desperately to believe she was right. He'd never intended to hurt anyone. He never intended to turn into a werewolf at the sign of a full moon, he hadn't wanted to cheat on Leila and fall in love with another woman. It seemed there was little in his life that Remus controlled.

"You're a good friend," Alice assured him. "You've been a great one to me at some of my lowest points. I'd be lost without you. Take comfort in that."

And he tried. He really did.


Mary was, simply put, exhausted. Her feet ached from hours of running around the hospital and she couldn't remember the last time she'd had a chance to close her eyes. Of course, when her break finally arrived, she stepped into the lounge to find Emmeline waiting patiently for her.

"Surprise," her friend grinned.

"Lunch? Again?"

"You sound so pleased," Emmeline stuck her tongue out at Mary. "Aren't I allowed to want to spend time with my friend?"

"Emmy, you've been here every other day. You've come to ours for dinner practically every night." The grin on Emmeline's face faltered. "You ready to talk about it?" It wasn't that Mary didn't appreciate her friend's company, more so, she was concerned about why she'd been receiving it in such large quantities recently.

"No," Emmeline replied honestly. "I assume you're going to make me, though."

Mary collapsed onto the couch, kicking her feet up, the position providing much relief for her aching joints.

"Ham and brie, your favourite." Emmeline passed the sandwich, along with a cup of tea. It was a meal to die for after a long shift.

"I thought that ending things on good terms would make it easier." Emmeline sat down on the couch beside Mary, arms crossed, lips pursed. "But now I just feel…empty."

"That's to be expected," Mary said, giving her friend's arm a comforting rub. "You two were together for more than a year, it's a big difference."

"Why do I need a boyfriend to feel whole?" Emmeline complained, head dropping back in defeat. "I mean, I can be perfectly happy on my own. I love alone time. I've always been alone, what's any different now?"

"You loved someone, that doesn't just go away. You're allowed to grieve that loss and not be weak or needy."

"The thing is…" Emmeline held her tongue as if she was afraid to say what she'd been thinking. Mary knew the best thing to do was wait, as she'd need to spit it out eventually, and so she busied herself with eating lunch instead. "I didn't love him all that much by the end of it." Emmeline sighed. "I haven't loved him like I used to for a while now."

"Really?" Mary couldn't pretend she wasn't a little surprised. She'd known that their relationship was going through a rather bumpy patch but she hadn't realised quite how bad it'd been.

"When you love someone you're supposed to love all of them, aren't you? Their imperfections too, all the little habits they have that can get on your nerves. It's what makes them who they are. Somewhere along the line I just stopped loving all of that."

"That's terrible." Mary couldn't imagine the confusion and guilt that one would be overcome with while falling out of love. How do you admit to yourself that a person you once adored had grown old to you?

"Maybe I'm just not built for it - love."

"Don't say that."

"What kind of examples have I had?" Emmeline rolled her eyes. "My parents have never loved me, not for a minute."

"Join the club." Mary wished her parents were simply AWOL instead of the flakey, self-interested people they were. She was grateful every day that she'd managed to get her brother out before it was too late.

"What if they've broken us, Mary? Are we damaged goods?" There was such fear in Emmeline's violet eyes. Mary reached out and grabbed her friend's hand.

"You are not damaged," Mary, corrected her. "And you're not incapable of love either. You love me don't you?"

Emmeline took a pause, a smile slowly working its way across her face. "Yes," she nodded. "I supposed I do."

"Well then, that's a start."

The comment just barely helped to lift Emmeline's spirits. Mary wished she could do more. She wished there was a way to fill the empty hole that had been left in Emmeline's life. She'd always imagined that she'd be the one struggling to find love once they got older – of course, Reg had surprised her on all account with that one.

"Do you love him?" Emmeline asked. "Reg?"

"Yes," Mary answered without pause. "I do."

"Do you think you're going to do it? Marriage and babies and all that stuff?"

"I think that, down the line, it might be nice. I don't fancy it much right now. I'd like to stay a kid for a little while longer." All she'd been witnessing for the past few months were panicked friends as they realised their lives were bumping along faster than expected. The look of terror as they became completely powerless to their situation.

"Good," Emmeline smiled. "I need a friend who can still party hard without worrying about getting the kids up in the morning."

"You're the kid I need to worry about waking up in the morning," Mary reminded her friend with a wink.


The sun was setting as James finally returned to life at Godric's Hollow. He had spent his day alone after his talk with Marlene. Some of his time had been spent visiting his parent's grave and the rest simply wandering, too afraid to return home to the responsibility that awaited him. Of course, his fate was unavoidable.

Eventually, James was forced to push open the gate to his home and face the music. He could hear the radio buzzing quietly from the kitchen when he stepped inside, stripping off his coat and shoes. Lily was in the kitchen, a half-eaten plate of beans and toast in front of her. She jumped with shock at the sight of James.

"I didn't think you'd be home tonight…"

"I wasn't so sure either." He couldn't remember the last time so much tension had been between them. James hated to feel like he couldn't walk into a room and pour his heart out to the one person in the world he loved the most.

"James, I—"

"I shouldn't have walked out like that," he interrupted her, incapable of holding it back any longer. "That wasn't fair."

"It's okay," she assured him. Each word felt calculated and stiff, neither of them wanting to rock the boat too much. "I probably would've done the same."

James sighed heavily, sliding into the chair across from her – his usual spot. It was one of their first real challenges they'd been forced to face as a married couple and he was scared shitless. It was easy to imagine responsibility and fatherhood down the road – down the road could mean years away – but when it stared you in the face, a timer attached to it, it was terrifying.

"I'm sorry you've been alone in this."

"I could've told you."

"But you were scared," James reasoned.

"Understatement of the year." Then, without any warning, Lily burst into tears. Her face dropped into her hands in despair. James couldn't be sure what to say to make it better, not when his insides were all twisted up in knots. Instead, he came around the table, pulled his chair up right next to hers, and held her in his arms until she seemed to calm.

James had imagined children he and Lily would one day have. Kids that had her dark red hair and his bad eyesight. Kids that ran through their home, filling it with the warmth that a happy family had. The noise of siblings chasing each other through the halls, the kind of noise James had craved as a little boy and received whenever his friends were around.

What he hadn't pictured was this. Twenty, knee deep in war and violence, only a year of marriage under their belt, and the responsibility of a child hanging over their heads. James had not imagined that he would need to stroke his wife's hair and promise that everything was going to be okay when she announced they had a baby on the way.

"Do you hate me for it, James?" she asked, resurfacing with blotchy cheeks and bloodshot eyes.

"Hate you?" James asked in shock. "For what?"

"I couldn't get rid of it…" Lily stammered. "I know it would've been better to wait…I know it's no good bringing a baby into this kind of world…" She clenched her eyes shut as if the image were too terrible to bear. "I just couldn't. Not when…not when I pictured half of you and half of me…"

"I'm glad," James assured her. He clutched her hands in his and squeezed them tight. "I don't want you to get rid of our baby." Lily looked startled, to say the least, by James' optimism. "I'm terrified, Lil, but I doubt I'll be any less terrified ten years from now."

"There's still so much we wanted to do once the war was over…" Lily reminded him tearfully. "All the travelling we wanted to get done and figuring out where we wanted our careers to go. We haven't even got jobs…" James could see his wife returning to panic and moved quickly to pull her back.

"We can still do all of those things," he promised her. "We'll just...have an addition to the plans. Besides, as much as you hate me reminding you of the fact, we can live off the fortune my parents left me for quite a while before we have to worry about finding steady careers."

"What if it's a monster?" Lily's worries continued. "What if it's a total brat and ruins our lives?"

"Well, they are going to have half my genes."

Lily smacked her husband playfully across the shoulder, a smirk sneaking onto James' face.

"I don't want to mess this up," she admitted fearfully. "I wanted to be ready, you know? I wanted to make sure I didn't repeat my parent's mistakes…"

"You want to know where my parents went wrong?" James said, leaning in closer to Lily, his forehead pressing into hers. "Waiting too long to make the future they wanted." James knew that if his mother could go back, she'd have tried for children years earlier. It had been her biggest regret – not being able to give James a house full of siblings.

"Our child is not going to be a brat. Maybe a little arrogant, you know, after spending eleven years being educated by one of the brightest witches in her year…"

"Oh, please," Lily scoffed.

"Not to mention they'll have to let them onto the Quidditch team first year with the skills I'll have passed along." Lily's tears had passed and now, in their place, a smile had come across her rosy lips. She looked at James with hope, what else was there to do but pray it would all work out for the best?

"We're going to do it," Lily decided, looking to her husband for confirmation.

"I love you," James reminded her. "Nothing's going to change that. We can do this Lily, together."

"Together," she agreed, pressing her lips to his. He really did love her. He loved the rush he got when she was in his arms and the funny noises she made in her sleep. He loved that, even when she was terrified, she was the bravest woman he'd ever known.

Lily held his face in her hands, as their kiss grew passionate. For weeks they had been together but in two different worlds – it felt like for the first time in forever they were on the same page. Connected. Whole. The James and Lily they were meant to be.

He clung to her hips, pulling her in close, his touch wanting. He felt as though he might burst with his desire for her.

"James," Lily said quietly, surfacing for air. "We should go…upstairs…"

His lips sucked at her neck, the way he knew she loved, Lily, gripping his shoulders tightly as he pulled her up out of her seat and into his arms. It was a matter of seconds before Lily had given up on her talk of the bedroom and the pair of them ended up on the kitchen floor, Lily on top of James.

It seemed as though their clothing hand never been on as it was pulled from their bodies and tossed aside carelessly. Lily pushed him inside of her, James' hands roaming her body with desire, both breathing heavily, putting their all into the movement.

It was ten minutes of absolute bliss, ending as Lily climbed off from her position on top of James, lying by his side for a moment.

"Hey," he whispered to her, Lily smiling as she turned to face him. "We're going to do just fine."

"I suppose we are," she agreed.


Marlene hadn't felt herself all day. Besides managing to get James off of Sirius' couch, she'd done little other than wallow in nostalgia. They hadn't just grown up – they'd been hardened. She couldn't escape the thought of Remus, stuck at home mourning the loss of an old love. It seemed not one of them had escaped the years without losing someone they loved.

Marlene couldn't seem to escape the cruelness of it all. She'd avoided most of the people in her life for the day, winding up at her family's home. The one place that, despite everything, remained constant for her.

While it was usually Amy, Marlene craved to see during her visits – there was a different person she went searching for on this occasion. She wandered up the stairs towards the second door on the right, tapping on the door before entering her mother's office.

"Hey, what're you doing here?" Maureen greeted her daughter with surprise.

It wasn't as though Marlene had a bad relationship with her mother – they'd just always been rather different. Where her mother was sharp and guarded Marlene was soft and vulnerable. Her mother had always seemed a stranger to her with her bland fashion taste and a precise manner. It was rare for Marlene to seek out her advice.

"Did you hear the news?" Marlene asked, sliding into the chair across the desk.

"I did. How's your friend doing?"

"A mess," Marlene sighed. She pressed her hand to her forehead, eyes turned towards the floor. All she'd been able to think about the whole day were the lives she had lost forever. Henry. Alec. Caroline.

"Marlene?" her mother asked, her voice sounding soft and distant. Marlene's vision seemed to lose focus as tears filled her eyes. She'd been holding them back all day, reserving her strength, but suddenly the emotions broke through like a collapsing dam.

Her mother had never been one for comfort. She slid a box of tissues across the desk and waited patiently for Marlene to collect herself. Not bothering with words of encouragement or tight embraces.

"How did you do it, mum?" She asked painfully. "How did you say goodbye?"

"Oh, sweetie…" Her mother stared at her with pity, her lips pursed in a thin line. "You never say goodbye, not really."

"It's so hard," Marlene, continued to cry, her voice breaking through the tears in a gravelly tone. "Getting up everyday and…knowing…everything we've lost and are yet to lose…"

"War is a nasty thing," her mother confirmed. "We wanted so desperately to protect you kids from this, Caroline more than anyone. She loved you, each and every one of you, as though you were her own."

"Now she's just...gone." She didn't like to think about it; the way that Caroline had looked in that bed on her final days. The grey tinge to her skin. The whiteness of her lips. She'd barely recognised Marlene the last time that she had visited.

"Where's this all coming from?" Her mother studied her closely. "What is happening, Mar?"

"Lily's pregnant," she admitted, knowing that the news would travel to her mother sooner or later. Maureen's blue eyes widened in shock, her mouth hanging open.

"That's…"

"Crazy," Marlene confirmed. "I just keep thinking…if Caroline were here…"

"Things would be different," her mother understood. Caroline was a life raft, for everyone, and her death had left an irreplaceable hole. Marlene recognised it whenever she needed guidance and felt she could find it nowhere, whenever she needed the comfort of someone who knew what they were talking about.

Silently, her mother unlocked her desk drawer, scrambling around through the contents of it for a few moments. She pulled out a slightly yellowed envelope, placing it on top of the desk for Marlene to see.

"Care was always the sentimental one between the two of us," she explained, Marlene still not quite understanding. "She wrote you this, just after you were born. I always meant to give it to you but thought I should wait till you'd really need to read it." The breath caught in Marlene's throat as she stared down at what would be her last message from Caroline Potter.

"Here's the thing, Marlene, just because we're older doesn't mean we didn't go through all the things you're going through right now." Marlene could only stare at the letter as her mother spoke. "You're in the thick of it now, the toughest part, but you'll see. It gets easier."

Slowly, Marlene reached out for the envelope, holding it delicately in her hand. She turned it over a few times, missing, so much, the author of its contents. She hadn't realised how much it would hurt to lose them. Everyone talked about the death of their parents, but it was a distant fate. Not one to be met so soon.

"It's not going to feel any better once you've read it," Maureen reminded her. "But it might show you how lucky you were to have known her in the first place."

Marlene left her family's place soon after that. She trudged the familiar gravel road back up to the main street and apparated away, arriving at her own home. That was where she opened the envelope – the seal already broken by her mother years ago – and read the final words Caroline Potter had left her.

Sweet Marlene,

I met you for the first time yesterday. You're a perfect baby. Ten fingers and ten toes, big blue eyes just like your mother's. I've known your mother for quite a while but I've never seen her smile quite so wide. Your arrival is a gift, for your parents and your sister.

I suspect that by the time you're old enough to read this we'll be well acquainted. The news of you – when your mother told me that she was pregnant – was momentous. There is nothing more exciting then getting to experience one of life's greatest gifts alongside your best friend. James is a few months old right now, not old enough to understand the concept of a friend quite yet, but I'm certain you two will get along well (if you mother and I have anything to say about it).

Whenever you read this, no matter how old you are, I am certain that you are excelling. I don't doubt for a minute that the daughter of Maureen and Alfred McKinnon something to behold. You will face difficulties, many of them, and I hope I will be there to hold your hand and tell you it'll be alright. If not, remember this, you are not alone. Hold tightly to those who love you and don't let go, not ever. Here's to many years of love, light and laughter.

Lots of love,

Auntie Caroline


Lily felt exhausted and light all at once. She had spent so long clinging to a secret that she had now been freed of. No longer was it a burden to carry alone – not that it ever should've been. She'd gone to bed early, ready for a long sleep that might help her face a new day with a little more courage. It was when she was just on the verge – as her eyes felt heavy – that she heard the creaking of the door and the weight of James' body as he sat on the bed.

"You'd think the baby was already here with how exhausted you are," he teased her, his arms wrapping around Lily's frame.

"You try growing a human inside of your body and tell me how energised you feel," she grumbled right back. James chuckled.

"Touché."

It still hadn't quite sunk in – in seven months time she was going to be a mother. It would forever change her – it would change them as a couple. They wouldn't be free of responsibility any longer, not when they had a child to be looking out for. Would they be able to continue to fight? Were they willing to risk their child's safety like that?

"James," Lily whispered, her worries bubbling to the surface. "We're not going to screw this up, are we?" She rolled over to look at him, his forehead creased with worry.

"What do you mean?"

"We're so young…we aren't the least bit prepared…we're fighting a bloody war right now. I'm just so worried, I…I don't want to hurt it." She pressed a hand to her stomach, still flat – the baby not quite big enough to make its entrance.

"We're not going to hurt them," he promised. "I love you." He ran his hands along her face, stroking her hair with comfort. "We'll get ready, we have seven months to get ready, and what we don't know we'll learn." He leant in to kiss her quickly. "If I remember correctly, we were both rather successful students."

"What about the fighting?" she reminded him. "How're we going to keep that up with a newborn around…"

"We'll scale it back," James agreed, although he didn't appear particularly excited about it. "Once the baby's born we'll take a break and then…we'll be more particular about the missions we go out on. No more running into the eye of the storm."

"Are you happy?" She'd been too afraid to ask since they'd reconciled on the kitchen floor earlier.

James didn't say a word. He simply kissed her, short and sweet, and then slid down towards her stomach, lifting up her t-shirt to place a kiss right in the centre of it.

"Yes," he finally answered, bringing a smile to Lily's face. "I'm happy."

She pulled him back up to meet her, kissing him passionately, holding him tight. She wanted him so badly – she couldn't imagine a day where she wouldn't.

"What happened to being exhausted?" James asked in the middle of it all.

"Guess I'll just have to start getting into power naps."

James laughed, his lips to her neck, and Lily was certain she had never been more content.