1982

A year had gone. The trees had blossomed and the leaves had begun to fall all over again. The cool winds had blown in and brought with them an inescapable chill. Remus had arrived in Brighton that chilly late October morning to pay an old friend a visit. He'd never said goodbye, never written, never come home. He'd spent a year in practical isolation, and now he was back.

The seaside house was much as he remembered and he slammed the gargoyle knocker three times with a shock of thrill.

"Yes?" A kind-eyed woman answered the door. She had blonde hair and blue eyes and looked nothing like the woman Remus had come hoping to see.

"Sorry, I…" He took a step backwards, still caught off guard. "I was looking for…"

"We just moved in a few months ago," the woman explained. "Perhaps you were friends with the old tenants?"

"Yes," Remus nodded, gulping anxiously. "Do you happen to…have any clue where they've gone?"

"No." The woman smiled apologetically. "Sorry."

Sorry. The word echoed in Remus' head as he turned and walked back down towards the street. Alice had loved that home. It had been spacious and bright. She had meant to grow a family there. Remus could not imagine what could have made her leave, except….

Remus was on Augusta Longbottom's doorstep in a matter of minutes. His breath was heavy as he pounded on her front door, hurried footsteps following. She gave him one look – his face filled with hope and fear – and shook her head. It was as though a knife had plunged through his heart.

Remus stumbled inside, the excitement and joy of thirty minutes earlier was gone. Instead, he crumpled on Augusta's couch and let her shove a cup of tea into his hands and tell him of her son and daughter-in-law's fate.

"Neville lives," she insisted hopefully. "He was safe, thank Merlin." Remus nodded blankly, her words of little solace to him. What did a baby matter when his friends were gone? How could he bear to see Alice and Frank's child when he would only be a reflection of them…and what was lost.

"Would you like to see him?" Augusta asked when Remus had finished his cup of tea. He shook his head, insisting he should be on his way. He had nowhere to be, no home to return to, but he couldn't bear the idea of seeing Neville. Neville, with deep brown eyes and infectious giggle. Remus wondered how many nights passed with Neville hoping only for the familiar embrace of his mother or father. An embrace he'd never have again.

Instead of visiting the Longbottoms' son, Remus mumbled a hasty goodbye and stumbled out of the house the same way he'd entered. He made his way to the hospital after that, to see for himself the damage that had been done. He hoped, perhaps, to happen upon his old friends and find them fixed. To see a glimmer of the young girl he'd once known in Alice's eyes.

"She has her days," the nurse explained kindly. Alice was sitting by a window, barely taking noticing of her old friend that had finally returned home. "She's always happiest when she can sit near the window."

"Yes," Remus nodded. "She would be."

"Alice darling, would you like to say hello?" the nurse prompted. Alice turned her head and looked at Remus. It was the same face, the same brown eyes, but the girl that had once lived behind them was gone. A ghost stared out at him and for just a second she smiled.

"This is…" The nurse looked towards him, as though his name would make any difference.

"Remus," he filled in.

Alice's eyes seemed to swallow him whole. She studied him – as though he were a stranger she had never met before – and then dropped her gaze back towards the window.

"I'll leave you two to it…" the nurse mumbled as she turned to leave. Remus watched her. He watched the way Alice's fingers traced idly along the pane of glass and the condensation her breath created on its surface.

"Hey," Remus spoke softly, "Al." That got her to turn her head again. He'd meant to say something more, something of meaning, but instead, his chin quivered and he broke into tears. Alice watched him; the same dull look in her eyes that had been there since he'd arrived.

"I'm sorry," Remus managed to say between his sobs. He tried to choke them back but they just kept coming. What did it matter that he was sorry? It wasn't Alice staring back at him. It was a shell of the girl he'd once loved as a friend – dear and good as they came.

Remus wiped his nose along his sleeve and stood up rather unsteadily. The nurse tried to stop him before he stormed from the hospital wing. He couldn't turn back and look into those sympathetic eyes – the ones only given to the grieving.

She was gone. Never would Remus dream to wake from a hazy sleep to find her smiling down at him with a cup of tea, waiting. She was always waiting. He would never feel one of her hugs again. He'd never hear her laugh…

"Sir?" a Healer asked. He stopped and placed a hesitant hand out for Remus. "Are you okay?" Remus stumbled forward, his vision growing blurry as he lost his balance.

"No." He shook his head. "No, I don't think so."

The man grasped Remus's shoulders, helping him fall gracefully to the floor. He closed his eyes and he saw them. All of them. James flying arrogantly on his broomstick. Lily's deep green eyes as she gazed up at him from her textbook in the library. Marlene's kindness, and her courage, as she clutched his shaking hand after a bad transformation. Sirius' cheeky smirk. Peter's nervous giggle.

"I'll get some water," the Healer assured him before rushing off. Water won't help me, Remus thought bitterly. Water won't bring them back.

No, their solemn faces spoke back to him, we're gone now.


Dorcas exhaled with satisfaction as she entered her warm apartment building. As they neared mid-November the cold had grown unbearable and Dorcas seemed to find herself working in it more often than not.

It was just after sunrise but the heavy clouds outside prevented any light from entering the apartment. Dorcas slipped out of her clothing – which felt as though it carried the cold in on it – and slipped under the covers. Remus, who had appeared unconscious seconds before, rolled over and gathered Dorcas in his arms.

"Where were you?" he mumbled sleepily.

"Following a lead." The tired line had been used more times than Dorcas dared count in the past few weeks. Tasked to be Alastor Moody's eyes and ears on Severus Snape, Dorcas had found her free time eaten up and her excuses worn thin.

If Remus was bothered by the secret he made no sign of it. He nuzzled his face into her neck and breathed deeply as sleep took hold of him once more. Dorcas stayed still, basking in the stillness of the moment.

She'd been working all night, tracking the more discreet movements of Severus Snape. He had taken her all over Knockturn Alley and forced her to stay hidden in a back alley as he spent over an hour in a dingy bar – presumably meeting with other Death Eater friends.

It felt her efforts were for nought. Severus seemed more than comfortable in the Death Eater world but had made no sign of betraying his word to Dumbledore. Dorcas still didn't like the look of him. He fell easily into the shadows, a background actor, and she knew well where those usually ended up.

Her mind continued whirling, falling upon her deepest and most pressing anxieties until sleeping finally came.

Remus was up before her and the place smelt already of coffee and bacon fat. The scent carried Dorcas out of bed and in towards the kitchen where her boyfriend stood over the stove.

"Morning handsome," she yawned, arms wrapping around his torso.

"I didn't expect to see you up yet."

"Eleven felt late enough to me."

Remus studied Dorcas quietly with concern. It was the same look she wore when he returned home from a transformation, aching and drained. "Moody has been pushing you pretty hard lately…"

"No harder than anyone else." Dorcas knew that was a lie. As things continued to spiral out of control – and Voldemort only seemed to be making gains – Moody had grown paranoid and desperate. Dorcas was one of the few he sent out on the important missions. It felt that even the loyalty of those within the office could be tested.

"Maybe you should request a break," Remus suggested, "just to get some rest—"

"Remus…"

"I'm worried is all. I barely see you anymore you're on duty so often and whenever you're around it feels like part of you is somewhere else."

"We're in the middle of a war," Dorcas reminded him. She poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot and settled at the table, patiently awaiting the breakfast Remus was preparing. "Everyone is overworked. What about all those undercover missions you get sent on—"

"Once a month," Remus corrected her pointedly. "Not every night."

"It'll be over soon." Her voice was optimistic but Dorcas' promise was empty. They'd been repeating the same words for three years and "soon" still seemed a distant concept. Voldemort's forces grew stronger daily and theirs merely weakened. Friends turned against friends, families driven into hiding to protect their children. Dorcas wondered sometimes if it would ever end.

Remus kept his back to her but she could tell he was frowning. He'd seen more than one person he cared about taken and Dorcas knew he feared she'd become just another casualty.

"Come here," she urged him. Remus ignored her at first, continuing to flip his sizzling bacon. "Come on, get your pouty face over here." He finally turned and approached, Dorcas pulling him down by the collar of his shirt for a kiss. "I'm not going anywhere."

"You can't promise that—"

"I can promise that getting home to you will always be my main priority." That seemed to relax his face the slightest. "How could I not fight for the delicious smells that fill my kitchen when you're here?"

"You're a jerk," Remus smirked, rolling his eyes. He returned to the stove and flipped the bacon and eggs onto two plates for them. The subject had been avoided – for a short while at least – and they could pretend that things were normal. They were just two kids in love. Dorcas still felt her stomach fill with butterflies every time she looked at him and Remus could bring her comfort no one else in the world seemed possible of providing.

"You know what I think?" Dorcas spoke between mouthfuls. "We should start looking for a place that's ours."

"Doe, you know I don't have the money right now. I'm still in between jobs—"

"I make more than enough to support us. Besides, when all this fighting is done with maybe things will be different, maybe there'll be less…stigma."

"That's hopeful of you," Remus scoffed.

"Really, I want to, Remus. I don't want this war to make us lose track of what's really important."

His brown eyes rose to find her with what could only be a mixture of affection and fear. Dorcas knew that Remus found it humiliating to lose work after every few months due to his mysterious absence during each full moon. Each time he was forced to inform her he'd been fired the lines at the corner of his mouth grew deeper.

"I love you," Dorcas reminded him with a smile.

"I love you too, more than you can imagine—"

"So we'll do it then? Start looking for a home of our own?" Remus had his eyes closed – as though in deep contemplation – and Dorcas worried he might be too proud to agree to the terms.

"Yes," he finally nodded. "I'd like that."

Dorcas came around the table, grinning from ear to ear, and kissed her boyfriend with deep affection. Just for this little while, the war could be forgotten.


"Come here darling," Marlene cooed as she took a crying Harry from his crib. She was babysitting Harry for the day, offering his stir-crazy, and rather exhausted, parents a break. Harry – who recognized his Aunt Marley immediately – curled up into her chest. The two of them sat in the rocking chair in the corner of his room, Harry still waking up from his nap.

Marlene listened closely to the sound of his breathing and the little noises he made. She smiled each time he yawned or burrowed his head further into her chest. She let the feeling of his warmth sink in and leave a stain upon her so she might never forget how good it felt. She wanted to remember these moments. More than ever, after her dance with death, the little things seemed important.

Harry began to stir, ready to be free from their snuggle. It seemed the older he got the less exciting cuddles with his auntie grew. Despite her disappointment Marlene let the little boy have his way.

"Should we go downstairs?" She asked in the singsong voice she always used when speaking to him. "Should we go see what trouble Uncle Sirius has gotten into while we've been away?"

Sirius was sitting in the same spot on the couch he'd been when Marlene had left him, newspaper in hand.

"What'd you think?" Marlene asked as she entered, Harry on her hip.

"I think you're the only honest reporter the Prophet has got." She'd left him reading her recently published article on the importance of remaining vigilant but never afraid of the Death Eater threat. Fear only gave them power and they would get none of that. Her writing for the Prophet had increased during her time off of active duty.

Harry's spirits perked up at the sight of his favourite person. He stretched his arms out and wiggled his feet with excitement begging to be placed into Sirius' arms.

"Who's that?" Marlene asked, reeving Harry up. "Is that Padfoot? Is it?"

Marlene swooped Harry down into Sirius' arms as though he was flying and the baby grinned happily. Sirius bounced him on his knee and made faces at Harry to provide amusement. Marlene always thought it funny he was so good with the baby and yet insisted he was not father material.

"Come on then," Marlene said, reaching out for Harry. "Give him what he wants."

"Ugh…"

"You're going to deny this face?" Marlene poked at Harry's chubby cheeks, the baby watching his godfather expectantly.

"He's a nuisance is what he is." Sirius kissed the top of Harry's head and stood up despite his protests. Using his wand to clear nearby furniture he made his transformation, Harry clapping his hands cheerfully. Sirius padded around the room as a shaggy black dog, licking Harry's chubby hands and tickling his feet - the same way he always made Franny giggle when they watched her.

"What do you think Harry? Should your godfather make the transformation into Padfoot permanent?" Marlene always got a kick out of teasing Sirius when he was in dog form and in no way capable of responding. She set Harry down on the couch – which he could now sit upon without any support – and let him spectate happily.

Sirius, of course, had decided to pounce upon Marlene and drag her to the floor laughing. He was making her beg for him to stop nipping at and licking her. She was wiggling around on the floor – blonde hair flying all over the place, Sirius licking her ear – when the front door opened.

Harry was giggling with joy, banging his hands on his knees to encourage them to go on. His parents entered the room with eyebrows raised.

"What on earth?" James asked. Sirius climbed off of Marlene, who was still gasping for air.

"We're going to have to send him to therapy for all this," Lily teased them. She came around the couch and gave her son a sloppy kiss on the cheek as Sirius returned to human form, both he and Marlene bright red.

"How was your day off?" Marlene asked breathlessly.

"Very relaxing," Lily smiled. She took Harry onto her lap where he sat quite happily. "Although…we made a rather impulsive buy…"

"I like the sound of that..." Marlene watched as James – who still stood near the living room entrance – stepped back into the entryway and returned with a cat carrier. Marlene flung her hands to her mouth as she heard a quiet meow from inside.

"You have got to be kidding me," Sirius groaned.

"Let me see!" Marlene insisted as Sirius' mouth fell open in dismay.

"Harry loves it so much when you become Padfoot for him we thought he'd like a pet!"

"A cat?" Sirius howled, as though he were being personally insulted. "A bloody cat?"

James opened up the crate and let the kitten crawl out, examining her surroundings. She was a beautiful tabby cat with big green eyes. Marlene stretched her hand out to let her smell it and the kitten purred as she ran alongside her arm.

"Traitor," Sirius pouted as Marlene pet the kitten.

"You are such a baby."

Harry watched the kitten curiously from his mother's lap, following it's wagging tail and ginger steps.

"Have you chosen a name?"

"We're going to call her Mimi – it'll be easy for Harry to say."

"Hello Mimi," Marlene smiled at the precious little thing. "You're very beautiful aren't you?" Eventually, Harry was placed on the carpet beside her to stroke the kitten – as gently as Marlene could get him to manage. Sirius refused to pet her of course, sulking in the corner instead. Marlene couldn't help but laugh at him.


Peter had come to his family's home for dinner. It'd been months since he'd seen them last. His mother seemed frail, agiler than she'd already been, and his father's shoulders seemed permanently slumped over. The transformation that shocked Peter the most though was Jamie. He'd gained a few inches and his blonde hair was thicker than Peter remembered it. His boyish excitement around Peter had faded and instead, when he greeted his brother at the door, he seemed reserved – grown up almost.

"Why isn't Aldora with you?" His mother asked timidly from across the table. She'd baked a quiche and served it with a fresh garden salad. It was the best meal Peter had had in weeks but the mention of Aldora's name nearly turned him off it.

"Sick," Peter lied. "Hasn't been feeling well…"

Aldora's friends had told him that he was not to disclose the news of her death. If anyone knew they could tie it back to the event by the train tracks and Peter's cover would be blown. No, instead he was to spend the next few weeks pretending her absence was due to a rift between the pair and then when the time was right, he would announce to his family and friends that she had left him. That wouldn't be too shocking to anyone he was sure.

"Too bad," his mother sighed. "I always enjoy her company…we'll have to have her parents over for Christmas dinner. It has been too long since we've all been together!" his mother enthused.

"Penny," his father grumbled, staring up from his plate for the first time. "Don't pester the boy. What've you been doing for work, Peter?"

Peter kept his parents in the dark about his involvement in the Order. Instead, he told them he'd been working a series of odd jobs in Diagon Alley searching for the right fit. They needn't know it was Aldora's inheritance that had been paying the bills – although that would soon end.

"An office assistant," Peter lied on his feet. His entire family seemed to raise their eyebrows to their hairline at the news. "My friends, Alice and Frank, they got me in for an opening at the office."

"Cool!" Jamie enthused, his calm exterior melting down. "What is it like? Do you see a lot of Death Eaters?"

"Jamie!" His mother scolded the young boy.

"It's okay," Peter smiled. It felt nice to have Jamie's usual excitement – and amazement in his brother's life – returned. "Sometimes," Peter lied. "I've even helped to write the files on some of them."

"Really?" Even his father was interested now.

"Yes," Peter nodded. "It's wild, the kinds of people that get dragged through that office, all sorts of crimes…things you'd never imagine."

"You get to help catch them all!" Jamie enthused. "You get to stop the bad guys."

"Not quite," Peter chuckled. "I can play a part though."

"You're like a superhero."

"Your aunt gave him a bunch of Muggle comics to read," his mother rolled her eyes, "they've filled his head with all kinds of bollocks."

"It's not bollocks," Jamie insisted. "They do what Peter's doing. Will you come read them, Pete, after dinner?" his brother pleaded.

"Of course."

His whole family seemed to change their tune after that. Suddenly, Peter was plagued with questions about Alastor Moody and the different cases he'd witnessed. Most of what he said wasn't a lie – he could describe Moody quite personally and he'd heard and seen much during his time in the Order. It felt good after weeks of loneliness and despair to have people appreciate him, truly admire his work. Peter found that rare these days…

Once their plates had been cleared and dessert finished – his mother's famous Victorian sponge cake – Jamie dragged his brother down the hall into his bedroom. He pulled the stack of comic books from a drawer next to his bed and flipped through them intently.

"This is Superman," Jamie explained to his brother. "He stops all kinds of bad guys, like Lex Luther and General Zod. He's always flying in and saving the day even when you think he won't be able to do it."

"Wow."

"Here," Jamie shoved one of the many issues into Peter's hands. "I want you to keep it."

"Jamie I couldn't—"

"Maybe you can find some inspiration," his brother insisted. "Some of the stories might even be like yours."

"I doubt it…"

"I hope I can be like you Pete," Jamie sighed. "I want to be a Gryffindor!" Jamie leapt up onto his bed, thrusting out his chest boldly. "Brave like a lion!"

"I'm not sure how brave I am…" Peter's smile had faltered – as it always did when he was reminded of his little brother's pride. What would Jamie think when he found out Peter wasn't the good guy at all? He had fought for the other side all along, betrayed his friends, and achieved what, to many, was a defeat?

"I think you are." His brother jumped back down to sit beside Peter. He grabbed his older brother's hand and squeezed it as tight as he could. "You're the bravest person I know Pete. You're like a real life superhero…"

Peter gulped back all his feelings of guilt. Maybe one day Jamie would come to understand Peter's choice. Perhaps this was the better fight and it would become clear. How could it be right though, when it meant the destruction of his closest friends?

They're not your friends. A voice in Peter's head reminded him. They've never cared for you… And perhaps that was true. What concern had his friends shown for his recently dampened spirits or the sudden disappearance of Aldora? They hardly paid attention to him. He was invisible.

"You're my superhero," Peter told his little brother, kissing the top of his head. "You know that don't you? No matter how much time goes on, you'll always be the person I love most."

"I know," Jamie nodded. "I wish you were around more though…"

"I will be soon," Peter wrapped his arm around his brother's shoulder. "When we've got all the bad guys I'll come home, okay?"

"Okay," Jamie agreed, his spirits lightened. "Then we can read comic books together."

Peter nodded along but he knew deep down the chances were slim. By the time he returned to his brother there would be no Muggle books to read, no Muggle culture left in his little world. That would be stripped away and the Wizarding world cleaned of all the reminders of what had once been. Peter wondered whether it was possible for superheroes to still exist then…


Lily struggled to sleep. It seemed each time she closed her eyes in the hopes of a blissful darkness she was greeted by the faces of those she missed. First, there was Fabian, sitting on the big comfy couch in the common room – nearest the fireplace. He had his legs kicked over the side, a common pose, and a book spread open in his hands.

"Hello handsome," Lily greeted him as she might have years ago. His auburn hair was a little longer – scruffier – as it had been when they'd dated. Lily stepped forward, standing behind the couch, and ran her fingers through it, the same soft texture, and the same chuckling boy beneath it. She leaned in and inhaled the familiar smell of his cologne. It reminded her of being sixteen and evenings spent sneaking into the boy's dormitory to cuddle with her boyfriend.

"He's beautiful Lily," Fabian complimented her. "He's got your eyes." Lily looked down and realized it was not a book but a photo album that Fabian was flipping through. Photos of her and James, some of the morning after Harry was born when they were officially a family of three. The warm sanctuary around her seemed to darken and crumble.

"Fab?" Lily cried out in a panic. She was standing right next to him but she'd never felt farther. "Are you there?"

"Of course I'm here."

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry Fabian, you must know—"

"Don't apologize for living."

"It's not that…I hurt you…I never understood how much I hurt you."

"That's all over now." She wanted to see his face. She reached out and brushed his cheek delicately, urging him to turn his head to look at her. "Take care of him, Lily."

"Oh, please don't go," she begged him, "please don't go." But he did. Before she could see those old brown eyes or the familiar smile Fabian had disappeared and Lily had been woken with a start. When she was calm enough to sleep again, James snoring beside her, it was an entirely different scene that greeted her. She stumbled upon her grandmother's home, the old beachside cottage she had resided in. Lily went out back, on the beach, where two people occupied the lounge chairs.

"Put some sunscreen on Lil," her mother's smooth voice called over her shoulder. "You know you'll burn in minutes, you've got your father's complexion."

"She's inherited many good things from me as well!"

"Quite so." Lily could tell by the tone of her voice her mother was smiling. She stood behind them, her feet sinking so deep into the sand it was difficult to move.

"Come closer Lily," her father beckoned, "we want to see you—"

"I'm trying!" Lily cried out in a panic. She couldn't move fast enough — it was as though travelling through molasses — and she wanted desperately to see her parents, to fall before them in a heap of tears and be told everything was going to be okay.

"Well don't freak out," her father continued calmly, "just keep moving."

"Harry," her mother said fondly. "It's a handsome name."

"He'll be a wonderful boy," her father agreed, "I can see it already. He's got his mother's wit about him."

"And his father's charm," her mother said with a soft chuckle.

"Momma!" Lily cried out like a fear-struck child. "Momma, please! Help!"

Lily woke once more, gasping for air, and this time she didn't dare go back to sleep. She rolled over, feet planting on the ground, and reached for her housecoat. Harry was sound asleep in his cot, teddy bear clutched to his chest, Mimi sleeping in the armchair nearest him. His guardian angel.

Lily found her way down to the kitchen to start up the kettle. If she couldn't sleep she could enjoy herself at least – a cup of tea was always a great relaxer. It was terribly cold outside but the sky was clear and the constellations out in full view. Lily wrapped herself up in blankets and clutched her steaming mug of tea as she tiptoed out to enjoy the evening sky.

The sky looked just as it had when she'd stared at it as a child and yet, so much else had changed. Lily thought of the birthday celebration James had thrown for her in seventh year when their romance and still been fresh and new. She had thought the evening magical and dreamt up a thousand more of them. She hadn't dreamt up marriage and children arriving quite so soon…no…war did that she supposed.

"I've never been very religious," Lily said out loud, closing her eyes. "But if there's something, anyone, out there, now would be the time to send a sign." She felt silly, lying there, talking to some imaginary man in the sky, and yet the custom gave her comfort. She'd seen her mother do it a hundred times before and her father as well. When they'd gone to Sunday service or a tragedy had struck their family – religion had been an outlet for relief.

"Keep them safe," Lily begged, hands clasped to her chest. "Both of them. They're the only things I've got left, the only thing that really matters to me. Harry is so young…" Lily clenched her eyes a little tighter at the thought of harm coming to her son. "He's going to do so much, I can feel it already. He needs to live. Harry is the only hope James and I have. He's the thing that keeps us going despite all the terrible things that have befallen us…"

Lily couldn't imagine surviving living in hiding if it weren't for Harry. She couldn't ever have imagined giving up a full night's sleep either but Harry had convinced her to do that too. She loved him; with all her heart she loved him. Despite the uncertainty and the fear, his arrival had brought she had grown to appreciate every quirk and charm that he brought with him. He was her boy, her first boy, and she would love him till her dying breath. Lily hadn't realized such a feeling was possible till now.


Sirius could still hear the woman howling from behind them. Her home – her husband and child – all certainly dead. Their house had been set aflame while she was out and the Dark Mark seared into the clear evening sky left no question about who was responsible. Sirius had been on duty that night – stepping in as Kingsley's partner with Dorcas off on business for Moody.

The smoke burnt his eyes the longer he stared at it. The flames swallowed whatever home had once stood. Kingsley was trying to calm the woman down, in order to get any information he could on why the family might've been targeted. She wouldn't stop crying though. She had fallen to her knees, arms around her middle, howling in pain.

"NOT MY CHILDREN!" she cried out. "NOT THE CHILDREN!"

Sirius doubted that Death Eaters differentiated between adult and child. He doubted they cared. It didn't take much longer to figure out that her husband and children were all wizards but she was not – a Muggleborn woman. A stain upon the bloodline as his mother might say.

Kingsley called in reinforcements to monitor the fire and patrol the scene for any remaining Death Eaters in the area. He and Sirius took the woman to a safe house. An inn, on the outskirts of London, that was run by a kind, unassuming woman. She appeared harmless but she was a fierce supporter of the cause and had volunteered her services to Dumbledore.

They had needed a spare vial of sleeping draught to finally get her to sleep. It wasn't until the potion took effect that her crying ceased. Her red-rimmed eyes fluttered shut and for the first time all night she looked at peace.

"You okay?" Kingsley had asked, as the two men left.

"Yeah." It was a lie of course. "Just another day on the job, I suppose."

It had been a horrifying scene to witness. The smell of the burning home, the knowledge of the bodies set aflame inside of it. The look of the woman who had lost everything. It was too close to home for Sirius' liking.

"Come on," Kingsley gave him a reassuring pat on the back, "let's go grab a drink."

The two ended up in the Leaky Cauldron, pints between them, trying desperately to forget the night they'd had.

"Do you ever want to just give up?" Sirius asked.

"On fighting, you mean? No." Kingsley shook his head. "I don't think I'd be happy doing anything else."

"Me neither," Sirius agreed. He knew many of his friends felt differently, they wanted the fighting to be over so their lives might finally resemble something of normalcy, but he craved the battle. He enjoyed the surge of adrenaline as he fought for his life, and the pride when he won.

"You should consider joining us when this is all over," Kingsley suggested. "You'd be good at it."

"I'm not sure how everyone would feel about having a Black for an Auror."

"Fuck what everyone thinks," Kingsley said, taking a gulp of his beer. "They'll see soon enough you're not a Death Eater." Sirius wondered when all of this was over if he might finally be able to escape the weight of his last name. Could he ever be anything other than the exiled son of a blood-crazed family?

"Was it hard?" Kingsley asked. Sirius could tell, by the way, he averted his gaze, he felt shame asking the question. People always did.

"It was hard living in that house for sixteen years. Leaving was easy." Sirius could still remember that night clear as day. His mother's screams, vowing she would kill him if he ever tried to come back. His father's cold, hate-filled eyes. He'd tried to pack up all his things but they'd insisted he had no right to anything they'd bought him. He'd barely left with the clothes on his back.

He could see Regulus still, standing in the doorway of his bedroom, grey eyes filled with tears. "You're leaving?" he'd asked. His chin had quivered – the way it always did when he began to cry.

"I'm saving myself," he'd announced. "You should do the same if you've got half a brain." Regulus had turned around and slammed his door and that had been that. The last time Sirius had been home.

"The Potters used to take a lot of slack in the office, you know? For allowing their son to be friends with a Black."

"Oh." Sirius had never realized – never thought – about the repercussions the Potters might've faced for his presence in their family.

"They told them all to go to hell of course," Kingsley chuckled. "You should've seen Caroline's face the day she came into office and told me you'd run away. I've never seen someone prouder. You were a son to her, as much as James was."

"She was good." Sirius nodded. "Maybe one of the best people I've known. They saved me."

"And McKinnon?" Kingsley asked with a spark of interest. "Where did she come into it?"

"Oh, I'm sure Maureen and Alfred were more than a little disapproving of my presence." They'd warmed up to him over the years, yes, but Sirius could still remember their watchful gazes anytime he'd entered a room. "Marlene never liked to do what she was told, though. I think she followed Caroline's lead more than anyone's. Not to say she didn't hate me at first."

"Because you were a Black?"

"Because I took James's attention away from her." The two men laughed. Sirius could still remember Marlene's pouting face, as he and James would discuss what might be considered "boy things." She'd found a way to squeeze herself in, making sure they never found an opportunity to exclude her.

"She never cared about my family," Sirius said, fingers tapping along the side of his glass. "I think she was surprised I didn't leave sooner."

"I think she would've got you out of there herself if she'd had to. That girl would do just about anything for you. Henry knew it." It'd been awhile since Sirius had heard that name. He reached for his cup; he'd need more alcohol in his system before he could discuss Henry Fawley. "Broke his fucking heart."

"Don't tell her that."

"I never would," Kingsley promised. Sirius wondered what other secrets Kingsley kept hidden behind those dark brown eyes. "I think he would've had her any way he could," he went on. "She's one of a kind, you know? He said so himself. Told me that last night in Donovan's…"

"He was your friend?" Sirius asked. He'd never known much about Henry's life other than what he heard from Marlene or had seen with his own eyes.

"Yes," Kingsley nodded, the smile drained from his face. "He was good. He deserved a more honourable death than…that." Sirius' mind went back to the burning home, the wailing woman, and remembered that Kingsley too had stumbled upon a similar scene once. One where his loved ones had been inside.

"We can't change it," Sirius sighed, "but perhaps we can make it right. There can be justice."

The men left shortly after that, once their tab was paid and they'd tipped Tom generously. Kingsley apparated home while Sirius stumbled on down the road to his flat. He found a tall, longhaired women lying in his bed, her face masked by her head of curls. Sirius threw off his clothes and climbed naked into bed beside her, his arms coming around her naturally.

"You're home early," she mumbled.

"It felt like a long night."

"You okay?" She took his hand and kissed it. He wanted desperately to draw her against his naked body and make love to her – at least then the night could end well – but he knew she was too tired to do so. He'd have to wait. For now just holding her was enough.

"I am." He kissed her temple and she rolled over, her head nuzzling into his chest. He could feel her breaths growing deeper as she began to fall back to sleep but stopped her before she got the chance.

"Marls?" He asked – scared he'd already lost her.

"Mm?"

"Will you move in with me?" He'd asked the question once or twice before – usually while deeply intoxicated – but tonight was different. Talking with Kingsley had reminded him of something he missed: being surrounded by loved ones. He was happy to have his own place now but sometimes he craved the feeling of home that came from a house filled with those you loved.

"Mhm," she mumbled. He wasn't certain whether she'd really heard the question or simply agreed to shut him up.

"You know I'm holding you to that, don't you?" he asked, kissing her forehead. "You have to keep your word now."

"I'll move in," she agreed – rather grumpily, "I promise. Can I sleep now?" Sirius laughed and stroked her hair.

"Yes," he smiled, "you can sleep."


Remus had shown up at the Longbottoms' for lunch. Dorcas had been out of the house since the early hours of the morning and Frank was gone to work. It appeared Alice and Remus could share their worries about their absent partners. Alice had prepared a nice roast – which Remus was certainly thankful for – and poured him a healthy glass of wine.

"So," she began once they'd both placed down their cutlery, "tell me about it."

"It?"

Alice rolled her eyes. "As if I haven't noticed you sitting over there with the long face. Who can have a long face after eating my roast? This is Augusta's recipe, I know it's good."

"It's very good," Remus agreed.

"So, is it that lady of yours?"

"Moody's been working her ass off."

"Sounds about right."

"I don't like it, Alice," Remus shook his head. "She doesn't want to disappoint him, he's a father figure to her, and I'm terrified that she'll…" he swallowed the words; too afraid of the truth they might come to hold.

"That's to be expected," Alice told him. She stretched her hand across the table for Remus to take. He tried to remember the last time he'd sat with her like this, letting his worries and fears float to the surface. "The amount of times I've made myself sick thinking about why Frank isn't home by five…"

"How do you do it?" Remus sighed. "Live in fear?"

"I love him," Alice shrugged, "he wouldn't be the man I loved if he didn't love this work. It's that look on his face when he gets home every night, the pride. He puts everything into this job and it means everything to him."

"And if it kills him?" Remus asked. "What will his pride matter then?"

"We all die somehow, don't we? Let it be for something we believe in."

"Can you still honestly tell yourself that? After everything we've seen?"

"I have to tell myself that," Alice admitted. She sat back, the hint of a smile upon her lips. "Everyone we've lost…it has to be worth something. Dorcas knows that as well as I. She has a purpose and that's what makes her one of the survivors. She'll never give up."

"Sometimes I wish she would." Remus knew it was selfish to admit but it seemed the longer the war dragged on the more selfish he became. He woke sometimes, with Dorcas safe in his arms, and wondered where the harm would be in running away from it all? They could settle somewhere far away; visit their friends and family during holidays. They would be happy. Most importantly – they would be safe.

"Don't you wish we could go back? Back to when it was easier."

"There's a lot of joy that's come since then," Alice reminded him. "Isn't there?" Yes, Remus thought, but was it enough? Did it make up for all they had lost? For the parts of themselves that would never return? He missed the family he had once had – the one that he'd built for himself – the one that was likely lost forever.

Right on time, Neville's cries echoed from the second floor and Alice scurried off to fetch him from his crib. Remus hoped that Dorcas might have returned by the time he got back – although it was highly unlikely. He imagined her sprawled across the couch, long legs kicked over the edge, flipping through a magazine.

"Should we say hi to uncle Remus?" Alice could be heard whispering as she reentered the kitchen with a baby on her hip. "Hm?" Remus looked up to see a red-cheeked Neville getting a kiss from his mother before she handed him off to Remus. He never felt like a natural when he held a baby in his arms. He usually found it uncomfortable and strange.

"Look at you," Remus smiled. "I feel like you've grown into a toddler since I saw you last."

"Don't encourage him!" Alice cried out, only half joking. "He's growing up too fast already."

"You've still got eleven long years before you're shipping him off to Hogwarts, I wouldn't be too concerned." Neville stared up at Remus curiously. Remus held him under the armpits so that Neville's little feet rested upon his thighs. Alice came over and tickled his belly and the baby began to giggle.

"He looks just like you," Remus observed.

"Most people insist he's the spitting image of his father."

"They're wrong." Remus could see it in the smile; he would be his mother's child. Kind, filled with joy, a beacon of light for all around him. Remus could be sure that Neville Longbottom would be a wonderful boy. He tickled the baby's belly the way his mother just had to hear the giggle again and smiled.

"Are you cheering Uncle Remus up?" Alice asked from the sink, where she'd begun to place the cleared plates. "How can you want to go back in time when it would mean giving up that little laugh?"

"You're right, I'm crazy," Remus confessed, winking at Neville.

"She's going to be okay." Alice came back over to the table. Neville had tired and plopped down into Remus' lap. "A year from now it will all be better, I can feel it."

"You can feel it?" Remus teased her.

"We're going to be alright. All of us."

Remus stared down at the sweet baby in his lap and hoped she was right.