James stirred to a baby's big green eyes staring right at him. Lily was fast asleep on the other side of the bed; Harry curled in between his parents. James ran his hand over the young boy's head and drew him to lie on his chest.
"You kept Mama up last night didn't you?" James whispered to the curious looking boy. "I know that's the only time she drags you in here." He kissed his son's forehead. "You're a troublemaker," he told him, picking Harry up so his feet pressed into James' chest. "Aren't you?" He lifted him up and let Harry stretch high above his head, feet kicked out like a bird.
The baby chuckled, feet kicking out behind him, as his father picked him up and then brought him back down with a nice swooshing sound. It was the giggling that woke Lily up, a smile spreading across her face at the happy sound. She slid over, head resting on her husband's shoulder, and tickled Harry's stomach whenever he was brought down.
"Good morning," James said once a few moments had passed.
"Good morning." Sunlight was just beginning to break through, winter bringing with it longer nights, and James could feel his stomach begin to rumble. He placed Harry back down on the bed and drew his wife in for a kiss.
"Are you hungry?" James asked Lily as they came apart.
"Starving."
"I'll whip up some breakfast," he assured her. "You stay here as long as you like." The offer brought some more light to her face.
"I won't say no to that." Lily flopped back into her pillow with a smile.
"Come on Harry," James beckoned, taking his son into his arms. "Let's give Mama some more time to rest."
"Don't get in too much trouble down there," Lily warned her boys. Downstairs James placed Harry into the baby playpen – drawing it into the kitchen – and began to mix up some food. With a flick of his wand, he had eggs mixing up in a bowl to be scrambled as he fried sausages and tomatoes.
"Just you wait for it Harry," James spoke to his son as he cooked, filling the kitchen with all kinds of delicious scents. "One day you'll get to enjoy a full English breakfast and it'll be the best day of your life."
Harry, of course, was paying attention to nothing except the stuffed animals surrounding him. James watched his little boy and laughed, still amazed at how big he'd grown over a short few months.
By the time Lily had emerged, her red hair drawn back from her face, she looked happier than James had seen her in weeks. That morning they could've been any family. Happy. Healthy. Safe.
James was standing at the stove, stirring his eggs when he heard Lily gasp behind him.
"He rolled over!" she cried out, hand thrown over her mouth. "James!"
He spun around, Harry lying on his back, his face drawn in confusion. Despite his parents' joy he began to cry, uncertain of his sudden movement. Lily picked him up, still grinning like a fool.
"What a big boy you are!" she enthused.
"That's my boy," James smiled with pride. Lily bobbed Harry around on her hip until he'd calmed and then gave him his morning feeding before placing him back down to play. As James produced their plates of food both parents were filled with joy and a good night's sleep. They ate, chatting away about the mundane details of their day, discussing the weather, and swapping Christmas gift ideas. James could've stayed there forever.
"Have you read the morning paper yet?" Lily asked. In the joy of the morning, James had long forgotten their Daily Prophet subscription.
"No, should've arrived—"
Lily wandered off to the front door, where the owl usually dropped it unless they found an open window, and returned a few seconds later with a face drawn in worry.
"What is it?" James asked. He wasn't quite ready for the harshness of reality to come crashing in on them.
"Marlene's on the front page," Lily said, dropping the paper onto the table. James stared down at the headline, his best friend's name glistening below it.
Voldemort is a Bully: I'm Not Afraid of Him and You Shouldn't Be Either
By Marlene McKinnon
James scanned the article, his stomach sinking. It reeked of defiant arrogance - the downfall of a hero.
"What – the – fuck," Ida cursed, throwing the latest copy of the Daily Prophet on her desk. Marlene stared blankly towards it, knowing well what had drawn her into her Supervisor's office that morning.
"I changed some things—"
"You bloody well did!" Ida shrieked. She was the youngest manager on the team – and a woman at that. Just thirty, she was a short woman with dark hair, well-manicured nails, and a terrifying scowl. Marlene seemed to constantly annoy her and yet, Ida always asked her for more. More on politics. More on change. Perhaps Marlene had finally found her limit.
"It's honest, you're the one always telling me to be a more honest writer!"
"This isn't honest, damn it!" Ida slammed her hand on top of the desk, making Marlene jump. She was thankful the walls were charmed to be soundproof. "This is stupidity. This is a death wish." Ida swiped the paper off the table so it landed in a pile at Marlene's feet. Her first cover.
Ida had gifted it to her, awed by the piece she had written on remain brave and fighting fear during these hard times. She'd wanted another from Marlene, a more personal story of survival, and she'd offered her the best spot in the paper for it.
"I have a meeting with Frederick in an hour to discuss my position at this paper." Marlene could see now this was no joke. The spark in Ida's eyes – the one usually roused when Marlene wrote something a little risky – had faded.
"Ida I didn't mean to…" Marlene's stomach dropped. "I never thought…"
"How did you do it then?" Ida asked. The fight had drained from her as she dropped into her desk chair. "Did you sneak back in?"
"I…" Marlene felt shameful just thinking about it now. "I never planned to publish the piece you read."
"Well," Ida sighed, "I suppose it serves me right for giving you the cover."
"Let me take the fall," Marlene insisted, sitting on the edge of her seat. "Please, it's the least I can do. I'll walk right in and tell Fredrick what I did—"
"No," Ida shook her head. "He'll fire you on the spot. I might be able to argue my way out of it…" she rubbed her head, eyes closed, and frowned. Here she was, tangled up in this mess all because of her sneaky twenty-year-old employee. Marlene had meant to do something brave and inspiring but instead, she'd left a woman she respected in danger.
"There's more than one reason I would've refused to publish this," Ida told her, eyes gazing across the table. "They won't be any kinder to you for it."
"They'd never be kind to me anyway," Marlene scoffed.
"Yes, but now you've given them a reason. You've humiliated him, and therefore all of his followers, by writing this. You see that, don't you? You've compared him to a pestilent child. You've patronized him. You've advised others to do so as well. He wants your head right now." Ida's harsh words sunk in Marlene's stomach like a stone but she kept a straight face.
"He's killed my family, he's killed my friends, he's killed a man I loved." Her eyes wandered to the paper at her feet, the headline jumping out at her, the words dancing around in flames. "Humiliation is merciful."
"My brother was killed in a Death Eater attack," Ida told her. Marlene had never seen her boss do anything except scowl but today there were tears in her harsh brown eyes. "He was thirteen." Marlene winced. "He was with a friend. They were getting the newest broomstick, he'd saved up a years allowance for it." A nostalgic smile came upon Ida's face. "He was just a boy."
"I'm sorry…"
"I don't want you to be sorry," Ida snapped. She ignored the tear that had rolled down her cheek. "I want you to screw your head on right. This isn't a game. They will kill you, Marlene. People have died for less."
"So be it," Marlene said, with a bravery she was not certain she truly possessed. "Everyone has to die somehow."
"You're still a child," Ida frowned. "You haven't any clue what you'd be giving up. You're smart, Marlene, and strong. If you give yourself a chance you could have it all. I know you could, Fredrick knows it too. It's why he hired you despite a lack of experience." Ida shook her head ruefully. "But you'd rather be a hero."
"I'd rather fight," Marlene clarified, "for what I believe in."
"Well you won't be fighting here for a little while," Ida announced, eyes dropping. "You're suspended."
"But—"
"Get out," Ida told her, turning away with a coldness she had not possessed just seconds ago. Marlene struggled out of her seat, breath drawn. "I'll write you when you're free to return."
"When will that be?"
"Months, maybe," Ida shrugged. "As long as it takes for the shit storm you've created to cool down."
Marlene stepped back out onto the floor to gather her things. It seemed every pair of eyes had turned from the desks to watch her. The office was practically silent as she gathered up her things and took the long walk towards the elevator, holding back tears.
Writing was all she'd ever wanted to do. She'd dreamt of it from the time she'd learned to tell a good story and put it to paper. She had told James for years that he would be forced to rave to his friends about his famous friend. The Daily Prophet had been her dream when dreams were still a thing but that was long ago.
Now, as she stepped off the floor for what she worried might be her last time, she realized that dream had died long ago. Somewhere in between Hogwarts and the Order, fighting had become her world. The war could be the only thing she focused on. As she felt her power slip further and further away her willingness to risk anything for freedom grew stronger.
A dream had died and another had been born.
Frank was off at work and Alice had grown tired of being cooped up in the house with the baby. She loved Neville to death and enjoyed their alone time, but she couldn't help but feel herself grow antsy the longer she stayed away from work – and all the fighting in particular. So she bundled Neville up and placed him in his pram, the pair of them heading off to Diagon Alley for the day.
Alice began some Christmas shopping and purchased herself a new wool scarf. She found a children's shop for Neville and bought him a jersey for the same Quidditch team his grandfather had once played for. They had just entered the bookshop – Alice gravitating towards the children's section to pick out some new stories for her son – when they stumbled upon a most unexpected face.
He was crouched in the history aisle, Alice almost passing right by him, when she recognized the head of dark hair and the man beneath it. His hair was longer than it had been the last time she'd seen him and he had grown more stubble along his jaw. She paused, stopping the pram at the top of the aisle, and gazed down at him before he noticed her.
"Everett?" she finally asked. He looked up, eyes widening.
"Alice Griffith," he said with the same arrogant smirk Alice remembered.
"It's Longbottom now," she corrected him. It'd been ages since anyone had used her old surname…
Everett rose to his feet, his hands tucked into the pockets of his long, button-down coat. "You look good," he said, eyes scanning her from head to toe. Neville stirred in his pram, his small noises drawing Everett's attention.
"Yours?" he asked. The shock was clear upon his face.
"Yes," Alice smiled, looking down at her round-faced baby. Everett stepped forward to get a closer look, smiling.
"Merlin, no guessing who his father is I suppose," Everett marvelled.
"No," Alice agreed, "he's all Frank. Perhaps I need a maternity test."
Everett laughed. "That would be quite a shock, wouldn't it?"
Alice hadn't seen him since Hogwarts. Back when they were just students and, for a time, lovers. That seemed a lifetime ago now. Those weeks of betrayal, in which she'd slipped into a broom closet more times than she wished to remember, had been far from Alice's memory for years now.
"Would it be too bold to ask you to grab a coffee?" Everett asked, looking up from Neville hopefully. Alice nodded, happy for some adult company, and followed him from the bookstore forgetting completely why she'd entered in the first place.
They found a café at the corner of the street, the windows all frosted up from the cold, and Alice grabbed them a table while Everett ordered. Neville, who was no fan of being bundled up, squirmed and sighed in irritation until his mother took him into her arms.
"Come here," she said, kissing his cheeks, still flushed from the cold. "You're just a Mama's boy aren't you? You love your Mama." He was happy once Alice placed him on her lap and drew off his bulky coat.
"I still can't believe he's yours," Everett mused, returning to the table with two steaming mugs of coffee.
"I know," Alice agreed. "Sometimes it doesn't seem quite real to me either." Neville watched Everett suspiciously from across the table.
"He doesn't look quite sure of me," Everett chuckled. "Maybe he knows I almost prevented him from being born."
"He does have Frank's blood in his veins, maybe he's just been genetically programmed to hate you." The two of them laughed over that like old friends, any bad blood between them long since forgotten.
"Well then," Everett began, "how have you been?"
Alice opened her mouth to utter a one-word answer but suddenly there came more. Without warning, she told Everett everything. She talked about the Order and Lily and James' wedding. She told him about Marlene returning home and the love that had forged between her and Sirius. She spoke of work and battles and all the drama in between. By the end of it, their cups were drained and the sun had begun to set outside as they reared upon late afternoon.
"And is it true?" Everett asked when she was finished. "What they say about the Prewetts?" She could see from the look in his eye he prayed it wouldn't be. In all the excitement of reconnecting Alice had all but forgotten about Everett and Fabian's complicated past.
"Yes," she nodded, a solemn look on her face. "Yes, that's true…"
"Was he happy?" Everett asked, his face pinched in pain. "In the end?"
"I think so…" The worst part was, Alice could hardly remember. She'd been so consumed with her own life at the time – with her impending motherhood – she'd forgotten to look up at what those around her were doing. Fabian had fallen to the background and then he'd been gone. "He always seemed happy to me."
"He broke up with me in a letter," Everett admitted, his pride clearly tainted by the event. "That was it. A few words on a piece of parchment and we were done."
"It was a strange time," Alice shrugged. "For all of us." She remembered when Fabian had called things off, early in the fall of 1978. With their new found freedom outside of Hogwarts and increased danger from Order involvement, a long distance relationship had been infeasible. She recalled Fabian's long face, around for a few weeks, and then the brightness upon it when he'd discovered happiness elsewhere. She wouldn't tell Everett about that, though.
"I loved him, you know? It wasn't just a fling to me…" His eyes dropped and she could see suddenly the grief that had helped to age him. "I thought, maybe, once I was done at school…"
"Oh, Everett…"
"He ignored my letters, of course." He turned his head away and Alice nearly missed the shine of tears in his eyes. Never had she expected to feel bad for Everett Jenkins but here she was: a mother, a soldier, and a sympathetic party to Everett's cause. "I suppose I deserve that, don't I?" he asked. He looked back at Alice with a sad smile and tear-filled eyes. "I was awful…"
"You weren't awful."
"I nearly destroyed your relationship with Frank," he reminded her. "Imagine if you two had never gotten back together, little Neville wouldn't exist—"
"That wasn't all you," Alice assured him. "Besides, who could've known back then where we would all end up? We were just kids—"
"But you were never awful like me," Everett told her. "You were always good."
"I don't know if that's so true…"
"You were," Everett promised. "I think it's why I liked you so much."
Alice rolled her eyes, smirking. "You liked the chase."
"I liked you," Everett said quite certainly. The tears in his eyes had faded and he got a funny look on his face, as though he'd been startled by a thought, and turned to Alice with a smile. "Imagine if it had all turned out different," he teased. "Maybe it'd be my baby on your lap."
It was a funny thought for sure, but an unlikely one. For Alice at least, there was no one but Frank. "I don't think so," she said, Everett nodding in agreement.
"You're probably right. You were too good for me."
"You will be happy, Everett." Alice felt certain of it. "There's still time."
"I just always thought…" he choked on his words but Alice didn't need to hear any more to understand. She reached across the table and offered him a hand.
"Sometimes plans change," she said, head nudging towards Neville. "But that isn't always bad."
"No," he agreed, "maybe not."
Frank Sinatra's Christmas album was playing from the record player in the middle of Emmeline's room. She'd begun the process of packing her things into boxes as she prepared for the move to Mary's place. Her landlady hadn't masked her relief at Emmeline's departure and had given the girl until the New Year to pack up her things and move out.
Emmeline had planned a quiet afternoon of getting into the Christmas spirit and packing but her plans were interrupted just an hour in when Marlene McKinnon knocked upon her door. She'd come in, her cheeks flushed from the cold, and told Emmeline all about the repercussions of her cover page article.
"I didn't know where else to go," Marlene admitted. "I guess I was afraid…to tell the others…"
"No one will think any less of you for it," Emmeline told her. "In fact, they'll probably respect you more—"
"Or call it stupid," Marlene sighed. Her eyes were filled with a dull sadness, defeat perhaps. She dropped her face into her hands with a groan. "Have you got anything to drink?"
Emmeline had in fact. She pulled a half-full bottle of sherry from her cupboard and poured them both a glass, and then another, and another until the chances of any real packing getting done that day had depleted. Emmeline couldn't remember the last time she'd had time alone with Marlene. Between their busy schedules and the frantic lives of their friends it seemed, there was little time to just be.
"So," Marlene spoke. She lay across Emmeline's bed, feet dangling over the edge. "How do you really feel about moving in with Mary?"
"I'm happy we'll get to see more of each other," Emmeline said. "But…I feel a bit like a child under watch."
"It'll be nice though, having people around."
"Yes," Emmeline agreed, throwing back more of her drink, "the company will help."
It seemed easier, to be honest with Marlene about the emptiness she felt. Perhaps because Marlene had experienced it herself once, years ago, when she'd lost Henry. Emmeline finished off her glass and came to lie upon the bed beside her friend, exhaling deeply as her muscles all relaxed.
"Hey, do you remember that night when we were sixteen that we met those twins at the party?" Emmeline reminded her.
"They weren't twins!" Marlene laughed. "They were cousins and yes, I do. I can't remember the last time I was that drunk…"
"We could be crazy couldn't we?"
"We were the dynamic duo," Marlene grinned, reaching for Emmeline's hand. "Better known as the life of the party."
"Those were good days."
"Yes," Marlene agreed. "They were."
Emmeline couldn't escape the feeling that the good days had all been left behind them. As the years rolled on and the world grew darker, happiness seemed to run thin. She could see that Marlene felt it too as her blue eyes fell and her head hung heavy.
"I wish we could go back," Emmeline confessed. "Things would be so much easier if we could warn ourselves."
"Sometimes I think you're right," Marlene nodded, face turned away. "Making a different decision doesn't mean you would've saved him though." When she looked back towards Emmeline there was an understanding in her eyes that no one else could possess. Mary gave Emmeline advice on her grief all the time but she never mustered the same level of empathy Marlene did.
"I could've convinced him to leave this all behind…"
"It wouldn't have stopped things from running sour," Marlene told her. "And it wouldn't have prevented his rage. He was impulsive by nature, and thick headed when he felt like it." Emmeline stifled laughter. "It's easy to think we could change things with just a little foresight isn't it?"
"You don't think you could?" Emmeline dared to ask. "With Henry, I mean?" When was the last time she'd heard Marlene utter his name? Henry had washed from her memory as Marlene and Sirius' relationship had grown more important. The memory of the man her friend had once loved seemed distant – to her at least.
"I've imagined it a thousand times," Marlene admitted. "Me running in there, saving them all. Knowing he was safe." She clenched her eyes shut as though the very thought caused pain. "It isn't that I think we would've made it – that would've fizzled out soon enough – but at least he would be alive. He could be happy somewhere, somehow." Marlene stood up and wandered to the table across the room for another glass of sherry.
"I've asked myself enough times why it wasn't me. I've begged for the tables to be turned and I've tried to make my amends for the pain I caused him in the end." She turned back to face Emmeline with a smile, her shoulders shrugged. "You should try and do better than me."
"Easier said than done," Emmeline groaned, coming over to help herself to more alcohol. At least it numbed the pain. "I can barely think of moving on without his face popping up, telling me it's all my fault…"
"Well it isn't," Marlene told her pointedly. "You couldn't have saved him, Sirius couldn't save him, none of us could."
"But how do you live with yourself?" Emmeline asked. "Lying with Sirius, letting yourself be happy when you know how Henry would've felt about it…"
"I tried to avoid it after Henry died, I tried so hard to find another path, another person, but I couldn't. If I'd known what I do now about Sirius than Henry and I would've never happened and it was a beautiful thing that happened." She sighed and sat down in one of Emmeline's kitchen chairs. "Fate is out of our hands." Emmeline couldn't agree more.
The music from the record player fizzled out and Emmeline turned to find something new to put on.
"Hey," Marlene spoke up across the room. "I've got a terrible idea." When Emmeline looked up she saw her friend looking towards the front door with a cheeky smile.
"What?"
"Let's go out."
"Out? Merlin, I'm not even ready—"
"Come on!" Marlene tried to convince her. "We're the only two who don't seem to be nesting yet. Let's go be stupid kids."
"We aren't kids anymore—"
"Fuck it," Marlene replied with a grin. Emmeline fought back the smile that forced itself upon her face. "Who says we don't get to pretend for just one night?" It was a tempting offer, Emmeline had to give her that. She hadn't allowed herself a happy moment in months, not since Gideon had died, and she was burnt out.
"Fuck it," Emmeline finally agreed. She rushed to put on a fresh face of makeup and change into something her younger self might've approved of. They went out to one of the Muggle bars in London they'd enjoyed as teenagers and flirted with many young men who were more than happy to fund their heavy drink habit.
It wasn't like it had been. Emmeline could still feel the weight of the world upon her shoulders and yet, it was nice. For the first time in months she was happy, and so was Marlene, and for now that would be enough.
Remus rushed up the front stoop of the Potters' house, pulling his scarf tighter around his face before he knocked. It was Lily who answered the door, grinning broadly, a glass of dark liquor already in her hand.
"Welcome!" she exclaimed – a little too enthusiastically – waving Remus inside before shoving the glass into his hand. "We're just in the living room…"
"Are you pregnant again?" Remus teased. "Is that what's called for this odd-" he hadn't needed to ask any more questions once he stepped into the living room. There sat Sirius, a glass in his own hand, sitting cross-legged on the couch.
"Mooney!" James cried out, shooting up from his chair.
"I thought it was just the three of us tonight?" Remus asked – the tension in the room rising to an unbearable level.
"Yes, well," Lily cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Change in plans."
"I had no clue either," Sirius grumbled from the couch, not bothering to look in Remus' direction. "If it makes you feel better." Remus looked to James for an explanation but he merely stood there, mouth gaping open, as uncomfortable looking at his two friends.
"It was Lily's idea," he finally blurted out, his wife gasping.
"Traitor," she hissed under her breath. With all eyes on her, Lily folded her hands behind her back and stood in front of the three men. "Listen," she began, "this has gone on far too long. You two are behaving like children when what you need to do is be each other's friend."
"But—"
"I'm not finished," she snapped, wagging a finger in Sirius' direction. "I've known both of you for nearly ten years now and I've never known you to be stupid." Remus sat down slowly in the armchair James had previously occupied. "Sirius, we would not have made you Harry's godfather unless we trusted you with our lives. I've known you only to be a brave and loyal friend."
Lily's green eyes turned to Remus now. "And you," she started. "Remus, you have to be one of the kindest people I've ever met. Despite everything you've been through you have more heart than half the people I know. I've seen the way you look at Harry and the way you look at James and I know, with all my heart, you would never willingly hurt either of them." Remus bowed his head so she might not see the blush rising in his cheeks.
"If we can all see this why can't you two?" she demanded. "This distrust – the anger – between you two needs to end. You are more than friends, you're brothers, you've all bonded so much and been through so much together, how can you give up now?" Neither man dared to speak.
"If we fix this now it can be salvaged," James interjected, "but if we leave it…"
"You'll never be able to solve the damage done," Lily told them straight. "Never."
Remus was too afraid to look at Sirius, too nervous that his friend's grey eyes would be vacant of remorse. Perhaps his love for Remus had all but vanquished, but Remus did not feel the same. He couldn't forget the loyalty Sirius had shown him all those years, enduring Remus' transformations with him. He could not forget the leading role that he'd taken in proving to Remus he was not a monster and the comedic relief that had often come with this. When had Sirius gone from one of Remus' closest friends to a distrusted foe?
"Padfoot," James said sternly, "can you really believe Remus is a spy? After all, we've been through together?"
The silence from the couch made Remus' stomach sink, his fears growing stronger. Perhaps their friendship really was gone forever.
"I'm sorry," Sirius, said, his voice no louder than a whisper. Remus almost thought he'd imagined it.
"It's…" Remus struggled not to choke on his words, "okay." He rubbed his palms together anxiously. "I'm sorry too, for believing you to be anything like them…"
"I do have the name for it," Sirius shrugged. "Just not the stomach."
"I know you're nothing like your family."
"I know your furry problem doesn't make you evil."
Remus felt as though a weight were lifted off his shoulder. Things didn't feel normal — no, normal had walked out the door long ago — but better. Perhaps they could grow from this, build back to where they'd once been. Sirius was one of his closest friends, they could get back there, Remus told himself.
"You're both stubborn as nails," Lily sighed, reaching for a drink herself. "Christ."
"Does this mean we can finally have dinner parties again?" James asked – the only concern he truly had.
"I suppose so," Sirius shrugged. "Getting drunk seems a better way than any to recover from this."
"I'd be tempted to agree."
Lily poured herself and James their own glasses – of what happened to be whiskey – and they all four gathered around for a toast.
"To mending fences," Lily said.
"And getting back to normal," James added. Remus liked that idea. Perhaps one day they would get back there, to days when the only worry they had was their unusually large workload. When couple squabbles and hangovers were reasons for life to halt. Those days had been blissful and they'd not even known it.
Lily crawled under the covers, her fingers and toes freezing from the cold draft that had seemed to roll in overnight. They'd only just waved their guests off for the evening – leaving both men sufficiently drunk – and neither James nor Lily could help but feel pride in the relationship they'd helped restore. With a little whiskey, anything could be made better.
Lily was already rolled over on her side, eyes closed, when James joined her. He turned off the lights, the room enclosed with darkness, and wrapped his arms around his wife.
"That was a good idea," he said, lips pressing to her temple.
"My ideas are always good."
"True," her husband agreed, and Lily could tell he was smiling. "Mine aren't too shabby." He rolled her over onto her back so that his lips could find hers. "I did figure out how to get you to marry me."
"Mm," Lily nodded in agreement, staring up into her husband warm hazel eyes. "That was one of your better ones."
"It'll be nice," James continued, "having things back to normal. Won't it?"
Normal. It seemed a funny word to Lily. Would things ever be normal again? Would Harry know a life not filled with fear? Would he ever live without the constant threat of danger hanging over his head? Lily shook away the thoughts, too much to bear, and nodded up at her husband.
"Yes," she agreed, "it's nice to have things mended." Her husband leaned down and kissed her once more, softly, on the lips. At least this remains, Lily hopefully. Despite the hiding, they'd been forced into and the helplessness they so often felt, the love between them was strong. It kept her going.
"You should go to see Marlene tomorrow," Lily said, drawing from their kiss, "make sure everything's okay."
"Sirius didn't seem that worried tonight," James shrugged, dropping back onto his side of the bed.
"Sirius also said he hasn't seen her since this morning," Lily reminded him. James rolled his eyes.
"Fine," he agreed. "I'll check on her but she's fine, I promise you." Lily couldn't be so sure. Marlene's front-page article had been an attack upon a powerful man who didn't take lightly to threats. The harsh words she had directed towards Voldemort and his Death Eaters had made Lily's blood run cold and her fingers freeze. He friend had thrown herself into the eye of the storm and Lily wasn't quite sure she understood how dangerous that was.
"He did tell me something else rather interesting," James went on. "Apparently Marlene is moving in."
"Moving in?" James nodded with an apprehensive smile.
"He asked her a few weeks back. Her lease ends in January and she won't sign on for another year." James shook his head in disbelief. "I never thought I'd see the day Marlene or Sirius settled down."
"That's where you've always been wrong," Lily smirked, twisting her fingers in her husband's messy hair. "Those two have been crazy about each other since first year."
"Bollocks," James scoffed. "They hated each other—"
"And I hated you, didn't I?" Lily teased him. Now it was her turn to roll on top of him, his round eyes gazing up at her with longing. "Look where we ended up."
Without a word, James reached up and drew Lily's t-shirt over her head. His hands ran along her bare skin, fingers gripping at it hungrily, and his lips moved slowly against hers. Rarely did they get to enjoy these quiet moments – in-between nappies and feedings. Sometimes Lily forgot how good it felt, to be connected as one.
He teased her, lips nipping at her skin, finger circling her nipples until she could feel the wetness between her legs.
"I want you in me," Lily breathed against his neck.
"Slowly." He knew how much that would irritate her. He moved down, lips travelling with him, between her legs. His tongue moved in circles and didn't stop until she was practically crying out his name. He emerged, smiling, and pushed inside of her with all his force, Lily's eyes clenched shut, her lips parted. He drew her up with him, the two of them moving as one, her hands curled behind his neck.
Lily barely lasted five minutes. When they finished, both breathing heavily, she felt as though a weight had been lifted off her chest. She waited until James looked ready to doze off and rolled on top of him again, his lips turning up into a smile.
"You're going to kill me," he told her, eyes still closed.
"That's my plan," was all she said as she travelled down to give him what he deserved.
It was late – of that much Frank Longbottom was certain. He'd been sent out by Alastor Moody on a series of tasks – answering calls of suspicious behaviour, tending to the grieving families of missing witches and wizards – and all had come with their fair share of paperwork. Frank found himself exhausted. He'd only just returned back from his final task of the day – interviewing a grieving widow to find out all she knew of her husband's last movements.
He had no choice but to enter each situation numb. If he thought of Neville, his son's round cheeks and high-pitched laughter, he would break. If he imagined Alice's kind brown eyes he would certainly sob along with the woman. He didn't allow himself to think of those things until much later, once the report was to be written and he could imagine nothing but the nightmare his life would be if any tragedy befell his family.
Frank was the last one in the office, only his desk lamp producing a dull glow in the midst of darkness, but he wasn't alone. He heard the door slide open and looked up to see a thin-framed visitor approaching.
"At ease soldier," Dorcas Meadowes voice carried across the room. "It's only me." Frank relaxed for half a second before her face came into view. One busted lip, a bloody nose, and a bad cut above her right eyebrow.
"What the bloody hell happened to you?"
"You should see the other guy," Dorcas quipped. Frank didn't even crack a smile.
"Come on," he urged her, waving towards the common room. "Let's clean you up."
"It's not as bad as it looks," she insisted, but Frank pushed her along regardless. "Really. Only a few scratches—"
"Where were you anyway? I didn't see you come in this morning."
"Official top secret business on behalf of Alastor Moody himself," Dorcas said in her most official tone.
"Alone?"
"Yes." Frank felt he'd seen little of Dorcas in the past few weeks – her desk was rarely filled – and yet she was always busy. Busy doing what exactly, he couldn't be sure, but from the look of her, it was nothing good.
Dorcas hopped up onto the counter while Frank searched the cupboard for the first-aid kit he knew to be stashed inside of it.
"How about something to take the edge off?" Dorcas suggested before he attempted to clean her wounds.
She flicked her wand and out from the freezer flew a bottle of vodka, only a quarter left. She poured them both a glass and then nodded for Frank to begin.
"Can you tell me what happened?"
"It wasn't that bad," Dorcas sighed. "I've been keeping tabs on some Death Eaters and it forces me to move through some bad areas."
"Bad areas?"
"I was following someone and he entered a building through a strange entrance. I wanted to get a look inside when I thought the place was clear but – ouch!"
"Sorry," Frank apologized, too much healing ointment swabbed onto one of her wounds.
"The entrance must've been charmed. I tried to open the door and next thing I knew I'd been smacked in the face hard by something and thrown right off my feet."
"You're lucky that's all it was," Frank warned her. "You know the rules, you're never to enter an uncontained site alone."
"Yes, but I've got special orders," Dorcas reminded him with a wink.
"Yes," Frank grumbled, "and now you're going to have a scar above your eyebrow for the rest of your days. Special orders don't mean they're right. Does Dumbledore know—"
"Dumbledore doesn't need to be informed of everything we do." Frank could feel her growing prickly the more he asked. He stopped, finishing up his job in silence.
"Feels awfully late to still be working," Dorcas observed after a few minutes had passed. "Won't Alice be worried?"
"Alice will worry regardless," Frank shrugged. "She understands." She would, it was what he loved best about her. She would be waiting, a plate of food tucked into the oven for him to warm up when he returned. If she wasn't awake she would rouse the moment he stepped into their bedroom, a smile always ready on her face. She was his partner in every way.
"At least she knows where I am," Frank added pointedly. The comment earned him an icy look from Dorcas' direction but he ignored it, placing the first-aid kit back where he'd found out.
With nothing left to distract them the two finished off their drinks, the silence between them lingering on. Frank waited for Dorcas to give any indication of what was going on but she was unwavering. Alastor Moody's most trusted ally. Frank could see the circles under her eyes, even with the common room's dim lighting, and the lines at the corner of her mouth. She was exhausted. He recognized the look. She carried this burden alone and it would be the end of her.
"I respect him immensely, but he can be wrong," Frank said, knowing well it might lose him his head. "He doesn't have anything, Moody. No family, no partner waiting at home. They're the things that make it harder for us to do what we do."
"It'll be over soon," Dorcas said – more to herself than Frank. "Then it will be okay." She jumped off the counter, wiping her hands on her jeans, and smiled up at Frank. "Besides, it'll take more than a few bruises to knock me down." He was certain of that. It would take Voldemort's whole army to stop Dorcas Meadowes.
"For what it's worth," Frank said, stopping her as she turned to leave, "you're the best of us." It brought a smile to Dorcas' face and left an ache in Frank's chest. He knew it was true – and so did they.
Marlene roused with a pounding headache and a terrible aversion to light. She couldn't quite remember how she'd managed to get home after her night of endless drinking but she was lying in bed, buried beneath a pile of blankets, next to Sirius. He was awake and reading when she peeked open her blue eyes and groaned in pain.
"Long night?" he asked, looking down at her with a smile.
"Too... much... tequila."
"I can't believe you got drunk without me. Getting drunk is my thing."
Marlene laughed, sliding over so she could rest her head on his shoulder. "I thought I'd take one for the team."
"You stumbled in half past one last night and wouldn't shut up about the red-headed man Emmeline was flirting with at the bar." Marlene barely remembered doing such a thing but she wasn't surprised. She couldn't remember the last time she'd let herself be free. "I was a little jealous, you seemed quite taken with him."
"Mm, did I not mention that we're getting married?"
"No, you left that small detail out."
"Yes," Marlene teased. "Wedding is on Monday. Feel free to come."
"So I suppose the red-headed man will help move the copious amounts of boxes from your apartment?"
"Yes, he's very handy."
Sirius wrapped his arm around her and drew Marlene in close. They'd spent the past few weeks since deciding to live together packing up her apartment and transporting boxes over. It was a long process – an unexpected one too – but neither of them regretted it. Marlene already felt as though Sirius' flat was her home, now it would simply be official.
"You know, once we tell them all about our living situation they'll have lots of questions, our friends…"
"I know." Marlene drew away from the embrace to sit up, getting a good look at Sirius' face. He watched her, his grey eyes impossible to read.
"We've never really talked about it, what it means." She always tiptoed around the question, terrified of the answers she might receive. They never talked about anything of consequence in their relationship. Perhaps it was due to the fact that they'd spent years existing in secret, pretending the feelings they had didn't exist. They had no idea how to live as a "normal" couple.
"You're mine," Sirius said, hand reaching for hers, "you make things better for me." Marlene had to fight not to let a huge, giddy grin come across her face. "This is all new to me," Sirius admitted, "letting someone in like this it isn't easy for me…"
"I know."
"No one ever showed me how it was supposed to be when you love someone."
"So you love me?" Marlene asked, eyebrows rising. Sirius rolled his eyes – as though the word was something thrown around often between them – and drew her hand to his lips.
"Despite my better judgment." Marlene smiled and leaned in for a kiss. Sirius took her face into his hands, their eyes lingering as they parted. Despite the raging hangover and the state of the world beyond their cosy four walls, Marlene was happy. She'd never expected to find herself in such a place and yet there she was, lying in bed with a man she loved.
"I think it's time we stop avoiding this," she reasoned. "Ever since I came back from France and we decided to stop pretending we've been too afraid to admit to ourselves, and everyone else, what we're really doing here but I'm not going anywhere," Marlene moved to kiss him again, "and neither are you."
"Okay," Sirius agreed, no sign of resistance. "I suppose I should start telling people my girlfriend is the author of all those brilliant Prophet articles…"
Marlene scoffed at that. Brilliant, that was a word few had used to describe her more recent writing.
"Was Ida as angry as you expected?"
"Worse, she was disappointed," Marlene sighed, dropping into Sirius' arms. "I'm on leave for the next few weeks…"
"What?"
"Until things fizzle out. She doesn't want me to get myself into any more trouble than I'm already in."
"For writing the truth?"
"For threatening Voldemort."
Marlene could feel the anger radiating off of Sirius. He understood. He knew why she needed to write it. He could've stopped her if he'd wanted to – if he'd tried – but he hadn't. He'd been the only one so far to read it and look into her eyes with true pride.
"And once again, the only person showing any real integrity gets a gag order." He sat up, Marlene rolling over so he could climb out of bed and throw on a shirt. "It's bollocks."
"There's nothing I can do," Marlene shrugged. "I lied to her—"
"You did something brave," Sirius corrected her. "And you're being punished for it."
"She thinks I'm going to get myself killed for it," Marlene confessed, averting her gaze. She couldn't watch the fear or rage which she was knew flickered across Sirius' eyes. Instead, she rolled over to the opposite side of the bed to grab the sweater she'd discarded on the floor.
"You're not going to get killed," Sirius told her, coming around to sit on her side of the bed. "Marls, look at me." She turned her head slowly, stomach all tied up in knots. Ida's words had haunted her since she'd laid down her warning in the office. What if Marlene had placed a target on her head? Were her days now numbered for trying to spread her courage?
"You're strong," Sirius reminded her, hand placed upon her knee. "And brave and the most likely to survive out of any of us. This is not the end for you." She could feel a lump form in the back of her throat and choked it back, leaning in once more to find his lips.
"Coffee?" Sirius suggested once the moment of fear and worry had passed. Marlene nodded, a smile spread across her face. He wandered out towards the kitchen as she drew her hair back into a ponytail, almost missing the sound of the owl pecking its beak against Sirius' bedroom window.
Marlene drew the window up and delicately removed the letter the owl had tied around its leg. She didn't recognize it as any of her friends and was startled when the envelope had her last name scrawled across it.
"Do you want pancakes?" Sirius' voice called from the kitchen as Marlene tore the envelope open. She stared down at the note, her eyes moving in and out of focus, and struggled to breathe – let alone reply. She stood there, quite still, and swallowed back the lump that had emerged in her throat.
You'll get what's coming. Blood traitor bitch.
