1993
"Franny, are you ready?" A voice echoed up the stairs in perfect French. The girl's eyes rested on the front page of a paper, which she'd stolen from the kitchen table when she'd wandered downstairs twenty minutes earlier for a cup of coffee. Now, she couldn't seem to stop staring at it, eyes running over the photograph and then the article, eating it whole.
"FRANCES!"
"COMING!" she hollered back to calm her father. Her bag was packed, her jacket hanging on the back of the door ready for her, but she stole an extra few minutes anyway.
Notorious Mass Murderer Sirius Black Escaped From Azkaban
The man in the picture, while terrifying, looked hauntingly familiar. The stringy black hair and piercing eyes. Yet, she couldn't quite place how she knew him. She ran her fingers through her long blonde hair as she read the article through once more, braiding it to the side so it would distract her no longer.
"For Christ's sake," she heard her father huffing as he stomped towards her door, "what's keeping you?" He stepped inside, arms crossed, catching his fifteen-year-old daughter red-handed. "What're you reading?" he grumbled. Frances handed the paper to him, watching for any reaction. Her father's face went white as he read the headline, crumpling up the paper and tossing it aside.
"Daddy?" she asked, startled by his reaction.
"Get your things," her father demanded without another word. Frances was too afraid to disobey this time. She threw on her coat and wobbled downstairs with her duffle bag in hand. Her father was waiting out in the car, as promised, and the pair of them began the long journey out of the city for Christmas.
They would travel to the north of France, as they often did for Christmas, to visit relatives. Franny didn't mind getting to stay with her grandmother for the next week, who would fill her with baked goods and homemade meals – a talent her father had yet to acquire.
It was an hour into the journey when Franny dared to ask the question that was eating her alive. "Who is he?"
"No one."
"Liar." She could see the way her father flinched when she mentioned him, the way he refused to meet her glance. Recognizing Sirius Black had been no mistake. "Is he…" Franny bit back her question in fear. "Did he kill Mummy?" Her father hadn't offered many details on her mother's death growing up. Only that she had been murdered by very bad people.
Details on her mother were sparing, to say the least. Her name had been Amy, she'd had golden hair like Franny's and came from a well known, English, Wizarding family. Franny had grown up with them until they'd been killed and then she and her father had returned to France, never to leave again. She'd been raised in Paris until her acceptance to the Beauxbatons Academy had arrived.
"No," her father sighed, "but…he was friends with the people who did."
"Did you know him?" she asked, her father's face difficult to read. She could see him, holding back emotions, the same emotions he'd been burying for the past twelve years.
"Yes."
Franny gulped anxiously. "Did I know him?" She knew the answer to that before her father offered it. She had, she could see him now, a cloudy memory of a shaggy-haired man and a shaggy-haired dog. She could see herself riding around a living room, giggling, grabbing at his thick, black coat.
"He was…a friend of your aunt's." Franny could see her father wished to go no farther but she wouldn't let him stop there, not when she was getting the first glimpse of her mother's world in years. "You were familiar."
"Did he have a dog?" Her father gave her a curious side glance.
"No?"
"Oh…alright." She looked down at her hands, trying hard to imagine her aunt, what she might've looked like if she looked anything like Franny herself. "Did she know?" Franny asked. "That Sirius Black was a bad man?"
"No," her father assured her, "she was kind. She wanted to change the world." Franny's eyebrows rose, she sounded like a woman she'd like. "She loved you terribly, you and your mother."
Franny found it difficult to picture a woman with such glowing reviews keeping company with such an evil man. Had Sirius Black always been that way? Had he once been her aunt's friend, turned foe? No, a betrayal like that couldn't be sudden, Franny reasoned, he must have been playing her all along.
It made her sick to her stomach, imagining Sirius Black playing with her as a child, making her laugh. She tried hard to remember the big, black dog, a lightness surrounding the memory. Joy. Whatever joy she'd felt had been killed, along with her mother and aunt, and somehow, Sirius Black had played a part.
"I hope they catch him," Franny told her father, "I hope they catch him and never let him see the light of day again."
It was the first time in three years Marlene had not been able to sneak Sirius out of coming to her family's Christmas Eve dinner. It brought together extended family from across the country, all crowding into the McKinnon's home for a festive meal. Her mother had not taken no for an answer this year and had insisted that, if they planned to live like a married couple, they could start behaving like one. Marlene and Sirius had both scoffed at the idea.
She was more nervous than he was, of course. She'd taken nearly two hours getting ready and then wasted twenty minutes on Sirius' hair, making sure it was styled just right.
"Is your family really going to care that much about my hair?" Sirius had asked.
"You haven't met my grandmother."
Marlene's family was old blood and, whether her parents cared to admit it or not, it was noticeable. Marlene knew the older members of her family would not take kindly to a Black being in their Christmas portrait. Family's like Marlene's, or the Potters, didn't run in the same circles as the more conservative purebloods and – quite frankly – despised them.
It was why Marlene had rushed to the drinks in the kitchen the moment they arrived at the house – still empty – and poured both she and Sirius large glasses of wine.
"Padfoot!" Franny squealed at Sirius the minute he entered the house. "Doggy!"
"Maybe later," he said, crouching down to get on her level. "When none of the grownups are looking."
"Promise?" The toddler asked, making her best puppy dog eyes. Marlene knew Sirius would fall right into her trap – despite agreeing fifteen minutes earlier there would be no dog transformations tonight. Marlene approached the two with a pointed look and passed Sirius his wine.
"You, are a little trouble maker aren't you?" She said, scooping her niece up off the ground. "Sirius isn't going to be able to entertain you tonight munchkin—"
"Entertain her?" Alex and Amy had entered from the kitchen without Marlene noticing. "How does he plan on doing that?"
"He's got some party tricks up his sleeve," Marlene said before Franny could blurt out the word "doggy."
"He'll need some once Nana gets word you're unwed and living together," Amy smirked.
"Well, how about I just slip in you conceived a child out of wedlock to ease the tension?" Alex pretended to cover Franny's ears.
"Don't spoil our daughter's perfect image of us!" he teased, making both Marlene and Sirius laugh. Marlene leaned into her boyfriend's side and prayed to god the night ended with only a few snide comments to boast.
Of course, the party was not in full swing until later in the evening. By ten, the whole family had arrived, nibbling on the buffet style meal that Raffi had prepared for them. Marlene kept her eyes on Sirius the entire evening, making sure he never wandered too deep into the lion's den without her there to rescue him.
"This is your fellow then?" Marlene's great-aunt Mildred asked with a kind smile.
"Yes, this is Sirius." Marlene introduced them, Sirius extending his hand to shake.
"Sirius? Why what a unique name!"
"It's a family name," Sirius told her, Marlene's stomach clenching anxiously.
"Oh? What did you say your last name was?"
"I didn't," Sirius took a deep breath, "it's Black." Marlene watched the way Mildred's hand recoiled and her smile faded. She looked from Marlene to Sirius waiting for some kind of explanation but nothing came.
"Oh," she nodded, "well, I should go say hello to Maureen…" Mildred mumbled before waddling far from the happy couple. Marlene would have smacked her over the head if her great-aunt weren't ninety-two already.
"I need a cigarette," Sirius confessed, "and half a bottle of brandy." Marlene watched as he turned and disappeared into the crowd of family members, biting her lip anxiously. She'd never pictured it would be easy bringing Sirius into her world but she hadn't imagined quite the reception they'd received either. Cold shoulders, icy glares.
"Not quite the introduction you were hoping for?" Marlene looked over to find her father had come to join her, placing a well-garnished cocktail in her free hand. "Your mother and I hoped it might be easier for you two."
"Easier?" Marlene asked curiously, sipping her drink as she scanned the room for Sirius once more.
"You didn't think it was easy when I brought your mother around, did you?" Her father chuckled. "Oh, she took her fair share of criticism." Marlene looked at her father in utter confusion. Never had such stories been shared with her. She knew her mother's family, the Waltons, had not been a well-respected one. They were old blood that had fallen on hard times, gambled away half their money and often put their eggs in whichever basket promised the greatest funding.
"Mummy isn't like her family though," Marlene reasoned, "and she hates Grandpa."
"Well, the same could be said for Sirius, couldn't it?" Her father smiled. "They're still absolute vultures." Marlene's eyebrows rose. She'd never heard her father speak of his family with such contempt. He glared across the room at his mother and her sister, whispering closely to one another, and turned away with a shake of his head.
"They'll never change the way they see the world – so black and white – but your mother and I are fond of Sirius, I hope you know that."
"I do," Marlene nodded, biting back a grin. It was still nice to hear it.
"My mother would have married me off to some pureblood debutant of her choosing if she could have. She even tried to convince me to call the whole wedding off the night before, told me your mother was just upward climbing. I almost took back her invitation."
"Why do you put up with them all still?" Marlene would have cut them all off long ago if her parents didn't force her to reunite with her family for holiday occasions. "It doesn't feel worth it."
"Because they're family," her father shrugged, "for better or for worse, they're all I've got. Them, and you four," he wrapped an arm around his daughter's shoulder drawing her in close. "Especially you, Marley," he said, placing a kiss on her forehead. "You're my favourite."
"You aren't supposed to say that out loud!" Marlene giggled, hiding her smile in her glass.
"Go find your tall, dark-haired boyfriend then," her father said with a nod towards the back of the house. "I'm sure he's finding a nice place in our backyard to brood."
Marlene kissed her father's cheek and wandered off to find Sirius exactly where her father had predicted. A tall glass of brandy in one hand and a half-smoked cigarette dangling in the other, he was sitting on the bench with his coat drawn around him. He smiled up at Marlene and offered her his cigarette as she sat down to join him.
"Well," she finally found the courage to ask, "have they scared you off, then?" Sirius looked as though the question was surprising.
"Oh Marls, you forget, I spent sixteen years living in a household of Slytherins," he reminded her. "It'll take more than a cranky aunt to turn me off." Marlene could've married him right then and there if he'd asked. She didn't think she'd ever loved him more. Her hand found his and she squeezed it tight, reminded of all the years they'd been torn apart by less. They were stronger now though. Strong enough to survive anything it felt.
"What?" Sirius chuckled as Marlene stared at him in total awe.
"Nothing," she smiled, kissing him quickly. "Just thinking about all the ways I'm going to make tonight up to you when we get home."
That, and how madly, deeply, and truly in love with him she had fallen.
1981
It was Christmas Eve. Mary, Reg, and Patrick had gone to stay with the Cattermoles for the holidays and Reg's mother had already stuffed them full of delicious holiday treats. Mary was doing her best to enjoy the holiday, and forget the gaping hole her missing friends had left behind, but it was difficult, just two months after James and Lily had died.
"Have you picked a venue yet?" Patricia, Reg's mother, asked cheerfully over a cup of tea. The family was gathered around the living room, a fire lit, the Christmas tree all lit up.
"No," Mary shook her head, "we've been so busy—"
"Of course," Patricia smiled. "You should look into the church where Charles and I got married, it's very quaint."
"That sounds lovely," Mary agreed. The truth was, after attending the funerals of her closest friends, and seeing her friend group torn apart, Mary had little interest in planning a wedding. Who would she invite anyway? Her parents had abandoned her; her friends were dead or gone. Even Emmeline wasn't answering her letters.
Patrick, who'd been in the kitchen chatting with Reg's nephews, entered the room with a funny look on his face and a letter in his hand.
"This just came for you," he said, passing the letter to Marry. She tore it open, Greer's messy scrawl hidden inside.
Emergency at the hospital. Come quick.
Mary crumpled the letter in her hand, the urgency of the words making her stomach turn. What could be so terrible that Greer had interrupted her Christmas celebrations?
"Who is?" Reg asked from across the room. He was playing chess with his father, his eyes glossing over with worry when he saw the look on his fiancée's face.
"Something is wrong," Mary, announced, standing up abruptly, "I have to go to the hospital—"
"Now?" Patricia gasped.
"I'll come with you—" Reg pushed his chair back to get up but Mary shook her head.
"No, you stay with your family. I'll go see what's happened."
"Mary…" She knew he didn't want to leave her alone. They had been witness to such horror over the past year, Reg could only imagine what storm Mary was about to walk into alone.
"I'll be back in an hour," she promised, "in time to have some eggnog by the fire before Santa arrives." That seemed to help him relax. "It's probably just Greer being dramatic." Mary liked to pretend that was true, if only for a little while longer. Despite everyone's protests, she bundled up and stepped into the night, apparating to the hospital.
Colleen, the nurse working the front desk, sent a memo out to Greer who found Mary in the staff room ten minutes later. One look at her face and Mary knew whatever she'd been called in to deal with was bad.
"What?" Mary panicked, her stomach sinking like a stone. "What's happened?"
"Mary…" Greer's voice cracked, "I'm so sorry…" That only made it worse. The hairs on Mary's arm stood on end. "It's the Longbottoms…"
"No," Mary shook her head, tears prickling at the corner of her eyes. Another baby orphaned, another family lost. Alice had told her they were spending Christmas Eve quietly at home; they were to go see Augusta tomorrow morning. Mary had picked out Christmas jammies for Neville to wear; she'd dropped it off at the house just three days ago…
"Let me see them," Mary said, wiping away her tears.
"I wouldn't…"
"I want to see them."
It was worse than Mary could have imagined. When Greer told her they were still alive Mary had been filled with relief, but she saw now their fate was worse than death. Alice and Frank were in beds side by side, both covered in cuts and bruises from the beating they'd endured. Mary hadn't expected them to wake up but as she'd sat down by Alice's bedside her eyes had popped open and she'd turned to look at Mary.
"Hey," Mary had broken out in a smile, filled with relief to see her friend still alive. "You're a trooper, aren't you?" She reached for Alice's hand but her friend flinched when Mary tried to touch her. Her face was blank, void of any warmth, there was little of Alice left inside. Mary swallowed back her pain.
"It's me, Alice," she said, hoping some small part of her friend still existed inside of there. "You've known me for years," Mary tried to jog her memory. "We met, our first night at Hogwarts, I was so lonely and you…you walked with me when they gave us the tour, you promised to be my friend…" There was nothing in Alice's eyes. She watched Mary but reacted to nothing she said. It was as though she were talking to a wall.
"You used to dance around the dormitory with me and drink Peach Schnapps. Remember? I would hide it in my trunk so the house elves never found it. We would do each other's hair and try to copy the styles in Witch's Weekly…" Tears were running down Mary's face now, dripping into her lap. She couldn't stop them any longer. "You're my family," Mary went on. "Alice, please. Please be in there." Alice stared at her only a moment longer before turning her head away with disinterest.
Mary let free a heavy sob, her face falling into her hands. Greer came over after that and led her away from the scene, taking her back to the staff room to give her a nice cup of tea and a hug. Nothing would make this better, though. Nothing would wipe the memory of the cold, dull stare Mary had received from one of her oldest friends.
"She didn't even know I was there," Mary sobbed, "she didn't even know who I was."
"It isn't her," Greer told her with a heavy sigh. "That's what the Healers say, at least. Those are their bodies but their minds…they're gone, Mary."
So was everyone she'd ever loved.
Alice felt like she was sixteen again. She and Frank were spending Christmas Eve at Augusta's house, sleeping in Frank's childhood bedroom for the night. Never had she imagined she would be squeezing into Frank's double bed with their baby in a cot beside them and yet, it was a comforting feeling. They were with family, everyone was safe and everyone was happy. It was a good Christmas.
It was after nine when Alice decided it was time to put a rather cranky Neville down for bed. It took two lullabies and lots of rocking in his crib before he dared let his eyes close, all the excitement of the day too much for him to bear. Alice had pictured Christmas as a mother many times growing up, but never like this. In her imagination, she'd be back in her own childhood bedroom, her mother spoiling her grandchildren rotten with gifts beneath the tree. Her father would make his famous mulled cider and they'd listen to the Christmas program on the radio before bed.
None of that would happen, of course. Alice's childhood home was in the hands of some new family and her parents were dead. Neither had seen her get married or met their grandson. They would never see the happiness Alice had discovered despite all the horror that befell their family…
"Al?" Frank's voice startled her.
"Sorry, I was just—"
"Thinking about them?" he asked knowingly, stepping into the bedroom. "Your parents."
"Yes." Her mother had always loved Frank. She'd been pleased to find that the boy her daughter had spent years gushing over was, in fact, a well-mannered, intelligent young man. After that, there hadn't been a Sunday roast Frank didn't receive an invitation to.
"My mum was just saying how happy this would've made my dad, everyone gathered together, kids running around." Frank sat across from Alice on the end of his bed. "She was telling me about the Quidditch match he and his cousins would hold each Christmas Eve, no matter the weather."
"That sounds nice," Alice smiled.
"I can hardly remember anything about him," Frank shrugged. "Half my memories are stories my mother has told me over and over until they feel like my own but…" Frank stopped short, his gaze dropping to the floor.
"What?" Alice moved to the bed to take her husband's hand in her own.
"Sometimes I think…if anything ever happened to one of us…" Alice's stomach sank. "He'd never even know," Frank motioned towards Neville; sound asleep in his crib. "He'd never know how much we love him."
"I wish I could've known your dad," Alice admitted. "He sounds like a wonderful man…"
"I'm sure he would've loved you." Frank kissed her on the cheek. "It's difficult not to love you."
"Your father loved you too," Alice's hand came to caress his stubbled cheek. "He's in you, even when you don't notice and that love, it's still there. It's part of what makes you such a wonderful father and it's the same love that Neville will carry with him no matter what."
"Come here." Frank drew his arm around Alice and pulled her in close for a kiss. Perhaps her old family traditions were lost but this new family, it was all that mattered now. Neville and Frank – Even Augusta – had become her pillars. Soon the pain of her parent's absence would lessen and her family with Frank would grow.
Frank had just begun to press Alice back into the mattress, shedding his sweater, when a knock yanked the lovers from their bliss. Alice hurried to straighten herself out before opening the door to Augusta.
"Alice dear, someone is here to see you."
"Me?" Frank was still hurrying to get his sweater over his head behind her.
"Yes, Remus I believe?" Alice's stomach sank. She hadn't seen or spoken to Remus since Emmeline's party and she'd ignored the few owls he'd sent begging her to talk.
"What's Remus doing here?" Frank asked, coming up behind Alice now.
"Merlin knows." Alice followed Augusta back up the stairs and into the entry hall where Remus stood waiting, hat in hand.
"Would you like to come in?" Augusta suggested. "I could put on the kettle—"
"That's okay," Alice assured her mother-in-law, eyes narrowing in on Remus. "He won't be staying long." Remus' already long face fell as Augusta slipped away.
"You won't return my letters—"
"So you showed up at my mother-in-laws on Christmas Eve?" If Alice wasn't furious already she definitely was now. Who did he think he was, interrupting her quiet evening with family to try and shove his apology down her throat?
"I—" Remus choked on his words, perhaps realizing now what a foolish idea showing up had been. "I haven't been able to sleep Alice. The things I said at Emmeline's…"
"I don't want to talk about it." Alice turned her head away, afraid she might cry if she stared at his face any longer, filled with such pity. Pity had been missing in the words he'd used that night, the ones that made her flee the party with mascara running down her cheeks and humiliation rooting in her stomach.
"I had no right, I was drunk and upset. I've been so worried about Dorcas and I let that cloud my judgment that night."
"Is that really what you think of me?" Alice finally found the courage to ask. "That my life is pathetic?" It had been her biggest fear; the judgment that might follow after Neville was born. The people who would see her decision to be a mother as a waste of talent, her step down from her job a poor decision. The judgment of strangers had been one thing but receiving it from her closest friend was quite another…
"Of course not!" Remus insisted. "I love Neville! I think you've done an amazing job transitioning into motherhood—"
"But you think it was the wrong choice?"
"No," Remus shook his head, "no, that was never what I meant."
"Why did you show up like this, Remus?"
"Because I miss you," he admitted. "Because you are my family, perhaps because this is my first Christmas without my parents now that they've left for Australia. Dorcas and I are hardly speaking, I haven't a clue what is going on in her life and all I wanted was my friend. I just…" Remus sighed, running his hand through his floppy brown hair. "I need you, Alice."
That was how their friendship had formed in the first place – necessity. Alice had needed a shoulder to cry on after her breakup with Frank and Remus had been in desperate need of good friends. Alice still needed him, he was one of her best friends, but his words left a scar. She heard them still as she closed her eyes at night, she felt pathetic each time she tried to pretend she was more than just an exhausted mother these days. Had she given up the good fight? Had she become everything she'd promised she never would?
"I think you should go, Remus." Alice hadn't realized Frank was there until she turned to see him a few feet behind her. He came up and wrapped his arm around her shoulder protectively.
"Frank—"
"You think you can just show up on our doorstep and beg for forgiveness after the things you said to my wife? After the way you made her feel?" Remus bowed his head guiltily. "You should be ashamed of yourself."
"I'm sorry." Remus' voice came out as no more than a whisper. Alice meant to stop him as he turned to leave, to let bygones be bygones, but she didn't. She let the door shut behind him and fell back into her husband's arms, biting back tears. Forgiveness had become a difficult gift to give.
1981
It was just four of them left to clean up the Potters' cottage. Remus, Alice, Mary and Emmeline. They moved silently through the home, left in ruins, and tried to gather up what they could before the Muggles got their hands on it. Alice had suggested two piles, one for anything they intended to be rid of and one for those items they wished to keep. Things were left aside carelessly to be picked up again, no thought of a death soon to come.
Alice and Mary took the living room, Emmeline the kitchen, and Remus agreed to manage the master bedroom. "You were closest to them," Alice insisted, "They would want it to be you." They would want it to be Sirius, Remus thought bitterly. That would be difficult though, locked up in Azkaban.
The bedroom was one of the few rooms in the house unaffected. The door was left ajar, debris in the hallway outside, but the interior was much as Remus remembered. He hadn't been inside of the room since Harry's birth when Lily had been propped up in the middle of the bed with a crying baby cradled in her arms. Back then they'd had a whole future in front of them.
The bed was messily made, meant to be returned to that night, and Remus found Lily's wand discarded by the bedside. He picked it up, twirling it between his hands, trying desperately not to think of the different fate that might have met the Potter's had it been on hand.
Remus was sat on the edge of the bed crying when Alice found him. She placed an arm around his shoulders and drew him close but the embrace was of little comfort now.
"I miss them," he sobbed, soaking her sweater with tears.
"Me too."
They had left the house untouched as long as they could but as days turned to weeks it was impossible to avoid any longer. It was December now, nearly Christmas, and they had all failed to get into the spirit with all their loved ones missing. What a difference a year had made…
"I keep pretending…" Remus swallowed back a sob. "That they're still here…"
"This makes it real," Alice agreed. "They're gone."
How could they be? How could it be true that Remus would never see Lily smiling at him again, worrying about his health? How was it possible that he might never feel another one of James' hugs? That he would never see his friend again? The reality of it all was too much to bear. They were gone and life would continue without them but Remus couldn't forget. He never would.
"Mary and I…we thought…maybe we should save some things for Harry."
"Petunia will never allow it," Remus shook his head. "She said as much at the funeral, we're not allowed to visit—"
"I know," Alice nodded, "but we can still keep what we think he might want to have. For one day…"
"Memories of a life he'll never live? Of happiness that he'll never know?" Remus shook his head pessimistically.
"Things that will help him hold onto his parents," Alice told him. "He'll want that when he gets older and he struggles to remember their faces."
Remus wished he struggled to remember. He wished it were not so easy to imagine Lily walking through her bedroom door right now, a tray of tea mugs balancing in her hands. What would she say to them? Packing up her home a month late, her son living in a cold house without a soul who loved him. They'd failed James and Lily a hundred times, it felt.
"We'll finish downstairs," Alice said as she stood to leave. "You do what you like with the room." So he did.
Remus packed up books and clothing to be donated, he shuffled through stored away boxes and table drawers in search of anything valuable that Harry might like. He had all but given up when he pulled a shoebox from the top shelf of the bookcase, covered in dust.
Inside someone had stored a handful of photographs. Some of Hogwarts, at Quidditch games and parties in the common room. There was a photo of Remus and James grinning with their faces painted orange and red. Remus tucked it in his coat pocket with a heavy heart. Photos of James and Lily on their wedding day, happy as could be, posing with friends and family.
Remus made a little pile of the photos he wanted to save, the ones that made him think most of the happier days. He found a sweet photograph of Harry and James, taken during last Christmas, Harry dressed up like an elf as his father beamed on proudly. Remus could hardly stand how much James looked like his father.
Yet, Alec had lived to be an old man. He died safely in his home, the same home where he'd raised his son, surrounded by the ones who loved him. He had not feared death when it arrived, not the way his son had been forced to. James' body, limp and lifeless, had been discovered coiled on the bottom of the staircase. Their best assumption was that he'd tried to hold Voldemort off, defenceless without his wand.
Had he thought he might save them? Remus wondered. Had he hoped Lily would get away? Remus wiped such thoughts from his mind, as he had many times before, and rose from the floor to shove the photographs in his pocket. Perhaps Alice was right. Perhaps one day, Harry would need reminding of his parent's happier days.
James had Harry on his lap, all dressed up like one of Santa's little helpers. He bounced him up and down, chuckling as the baby's face turned up in a big, toothless grin. Lily emerged from the stairs a few moments later, camera in hand.
"On three!" she instructed, squatting down to get a good photo of father and son. If James could've had the perfect first Christmas for his son it might've included his mother, pouring glasses of champagne, and his father reading a book in the corner. They would listen to Christmas songs on the radio and eat mince pies as Mimsy cooked dinner in the kitchen. Things were different now though.
Instead, Lily was getting the food ready for their guests the next day and it was just the three of them – and the cat. Mimi purred from the armchair, watching Harry closely as James placed him on his back, letting him kick his feet in the air and throw around his arms excitedly.
He hadn't heard Lily leaving the kitchen until there was a tap on his shoulder and there she was, two big mugs in her hands. "Some spiked apple cider?" She suggested, James joyfully taking the mug. They cuddled on the couch, Harry falling asleep in Lily's arms, James holding them both close. He flicked his wand and turned The Carpenter's Christmas record on.
"I wish he was old enough to be excited about Christmas morning," Lily confessed. "I always had such fun as a kid…"
"Me too," James smiled. "When I was younger we celebrated with my grandparents. Once they died my parents would do presents the three of us and then head to the McKinnon's for Christmas lunch."
"My dad used to make supper – bangers and mash – and then have us gather around the telly to watch a Christmas film for Christmas Eve. Petunia would always wake me up at the crack of dawn to open gifts, at least when we were younger. When we got older she'd just pound on my door until I came out. Mum would make tea and we'd all sit around the tree and open gifts before breakfast…I always hoped to follow the same traditions with my own kids…"
"You will." James had been an only child; he had dictated most of his traditions. He wanted something different for Harry. A house filled with siblings to wake him up each Christmas morning at the crack of dawn so they might all gather round and open presents.
Lily put Harry to bed soon after that and when she came back downstairs James was waiting with a surprise.
"What's this?" she asked, mouth falling open as he passed her a small, wrapped up box.
"Happy anniversary, sweetheart." Lily's eyes widened in shock.
"Oh, James!"
"It's fine," he promised, "I didn't expect you to remember—"
"I haven't got anything for you!"
"Good, I don't need anything. Now stop worrying and open it!" With watery eyes Lily sat down on the couch, pulling the ribbon around the box. James had picked it out with Marlene only a week ago, both agreeing it would put a smile on Lily's face when she opened it. It was a delicate piece of jewellery, a necklace with a small snitch on a golden chain. Lily's lips spread into a smile as she drew it from the box.
"It's beautiful…"
"I thought it was fitting, seeing as you're my golden snitch." Lily looked up with tears in her eyes. "And it reminds me of that time you raced onto the Quidditch pitch to save me."
"Oh god," she laughed, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "That feels like ages ago, doesn't it?"
"I wouldn't change one second of it," James said, drawing her in so their foreheads were pressed together. "Everything since I woke up in that hospital bed has been a dream."
"It's never been easy," Lily reminded him, as though that might change his mind. As if she weren't enough to make his world go round. She had been since the first day he'd seen her, staring out the window of the Hogwarts express with such curiosity in her almond-shaped eyes.
"Come on." James stood up, placing out his hand for Lily to take.
"What?"
"Dance with me."
"James…"
He ignored her protests and flicked his wand to put on their song. He pulled Lily in and held her hand close to his chest as they swayed to the music that had helped them fall in love. James could still see Lily sitting across from him all those years ago in his family's sitting room. When he'd been just a lovesick boy playing his guitar to the girl of his dreams. Before she'd been his. Before he'd known what joy she would bring him.
James was so lost in his thoughts he didn't notice the quiet snuffles coming from Lily, not until her hands began to shake. He drew away and looked into her teary eyes with concern.
"Will it ever stop?" she asked, making James frown. "Will our son ever be safe?" The question broke his heart. In a moment meant to be filled with thoughts only of love and wedding anniversaries to come, Lily could do nothing but worry about Harry's safety.
"Soon," James assured her, "it'll all be over soon."
They stood in the middle of the living room as the song came to an end, Lily wiping tears from her eyes. She looked up at James with fear, the moment for romance long since passed.
"I think…" She took a deep breath. "I think we need a plan."
"A plan?"
"In case anything were to happen…for Harry's sake…"
"Lily," James shook his head. They were young and their son less than a year old; James had no desire to plan for a future that they didn't spend together. They would see Harry into old age; they would die warm in their beds surrounded by grandchildren. They wouldn't need a plan.
"It isn't getting better," Lily, pleaded, her eyes bloodshot from tears. "I'm scared that the worse it gets the less Dumbledore will be able to protect us and…" she choked on her words, her lips trembling. "I need to know that Harry will be okay if anything were to happen."
"Nothing is going to happen."
"James, please—"
"NO!" James had reached his limit. He turned around, not wanting Lily to see the rage that moved across his face. He refused to allow the fear to take over. He refused to believe that their cause might be lost, that all they had fought for since finishing Hogwarts was for nought. What would his parents think if they saw what had happened to their cause? Would they be disappointed in him?
"People want to hurt our boy," Lily reminded him, as though the thought didn't haunt his dreams. "We need to be ready." He felt her arms come to wrap around him, her face pressed into his back. James didn't say anything. He stood still, waiting for his heart rate to slow before he let himself do any more talking before he allowed his thoughts to wander any closer to the reality of Harry's safety.
Hiding was not helping things. While Dumbledore and Moody had been hopeful, Voldemort remained intent on finding the "Chosen One." It seemed he would give up at nothing until he found Harry and had him killed. As days went on, Dumbledore grew less confident in his strategy. He'd begun to suggest tighter restrictions on the Potter's movements, insisting they do their best to avoid Wizarding areas.
"I think that we should make it official, Sirius being Harry's godfather," Lily spoke. "That way, if anything were to happen, he could be his guardian…" Lily held James a little tighter. "At least then he could be with someone who loves him." It was then she began to sob, her body shaking against James' until he turned to hold her in his arms.
"Okay," he agreed, hoping it might provide his wife with some sliver of relief. "We can make it official."
The Potters had invited all of their closest friends for Christmas dinner. The guest list consisted mostly of those in the Order who could be trusted not to run their mouths about their location. Of course, they had no clue that sitting in their living room, wedged between Alice Longbottom and Mary McDonald was the very spy they all so vehemently feared.
Peter was drinking mulled cider and listening quietly to the conversations that took place around him. He had spent Christmas morning with his family, watching Jamie excitedly tear open his gifts, and begun the slow process of informing loved ones that he and Aldora were no longer together.
It was easier for them to pity him than to know his grief. Watching his friends shrug the news off without much shock helped his anger grow. He listened as Sirius whispered to Marlene that they'd lasted longer than he expected and watched as she elbowed him in the ribs. Marlene's pity was worst of all for it was she that had caused his grief in the first place, not that she knew it.
It was only Remus who, before dinner was served, pulled Peter aside to provide some comfort.
"I'm so sorry to hear it, Pete," he said with a long face. "It's awful…"
"I guess I should've seen it coming."
"You can't predict these things." Peter nodded, he was right. Just as Remus could not predict that the very friend he comforted knew truths he couldn't imagine. Peter was well aware that Sirius and James were hiding the truth – that Harry's life was in more danger than any of them understood, that the Potters were being hunted. Remus couldn't be aware that his own friends didn't trust him enough to share this.
Peter was sat beside Marlene at dinner. As they piled their plates with stuffing and turkey, she leaned over and whispered that she was there if he ever needed a shoulder to cry on. It took all of Peter's strength not to turn on her with a burning rage and tell her she'd robbed him of the only shoulder he'd ever needed.
It was the first Christmas Peter had realized what an outsider he truly was. There was no room for him around this table, of faces he no longer recognized. His friends, the very people meant to be there through thick and thin, barely noticed his pain throughout the past months and even now, mocked him.
He barely made it through dessert before quickly excusing himself, pretending to be under the weather with a cold. He could see, as he left the house barely noticed, he would not be missed. He could walk into the street and die and he would not be missed.
Foolish boy, he thought to himself, silly boy, they never cared for you. They pitied you. Peter apparated home, landing roughly in the alley just behind his apartment. With Aldora gone he had moved from their apartment into a two bedroom flat. Peter dropped his keys into the dish as he stepped inside and kicked off his boots, the muffled sound of a radio coming from the living room.
The apartment was dark, all of the curtains drawn as they were most days, and Evan Rosier sat in the living room, his head resting on the back of the couch, eyes closed and a tumbler of whiskey in his right hand. If he heard Peter enter the room he made no sign of it.
"Home so soon?" He finally asked as Peter moved to pour his own drink from the bottle on the coffee table.
"I couldn't stay any longer," he confessed, "it was unbearable."
Evan snorted. "Any sign of the Potters?" he asked, cracking one eye open. That was all they ever asked him – did he know where they lived? Did he know where they were hiding? Peter was thankful Evan couldn't see his face as he poured himself a drink.
"No," he lied, "they weren't present." His love for the others had long since faded. He wouldn't mourn the death of Marlene, or her smug faced boyfriend, but the Potters Peter could not give up. He had tried, countless times he had tried, and yet each attempt left him speechless. He could only think of Harry, just a sweet little boy, and Lily – one of the few people who had always been kind to him.
Peter had hoped Voldemort's interest in the boy might fade, that he'd move onto more pressing matter, but each day the question was brought up by Evan who would swiftly report back to the others.
"Soon he'll want to ask you himself," Evan told him, "and he won't be forgiving if you lie."
Peter gulped anxiously. He was sure that was true. He could only imagine the terror Voldemort might invoke in him. Perhaps then Peter's loyalty – thin as it was – would crumble. Then he would truly be one of the others. His last grasp on the old Peter would be gone and his friends along with him.
"I'll keep asking around," Peter lied, "see if anyone cracks." He came to join Evan on the couch, exhaling deeply. The radio host was sharing the news of two ministry officials gone missing, the close advisors of the Minister of Magic. Peter could see the way Evan's mouth turned up in a smile as it was announced.
"That was the Lestranges who did that," he said proudly. "Bellatrix squeezed the information out of them before torturing them to death." Evan laughed. "Used so many unforgivable curses on the two of them they just couldn't take it anymore. By the end, they were begging."
"What did they do with the bodies?" Peter was always afraid to ask.
"Burned them," Evan shrugged. "No one will find them. They'll be lost forever."
The Order would search – he was certain of that. Dumbledore would send them out on hopeless missions to try and locate the missing ministry workers and all he'd do is push them in the direction of more danger, more death. Soon there wouldn't be a member of the Order of the Phoenix left alive.
"Merry Christmas by the way," Evan stuck out his glass to cheers. "Perhaps by next year we'll have won this bloody war," he said as they both took a sip. Peter nodded, perhaps, but where would he be then?
A/N: Hope everyone had a lovely holiday! This is a few days late but since this will be the last Christmas chapter I get to write I thought it fitting it should coincide with the actual holiday. Reviews, as always, are much appreciated!
