Emmeline waited until her guest had left and then sent a memo off downstairs to Tom, requesting a bottle of wine. It was ten after twelve, October 31st 1981. The date seemed unimportant to Emmeline now but in the future, it would come to mark a dark day, an anniversary of death and despair. She rolled out of bed, reaching for the robe she had hanging over the back of an armchair in the corner.

Arthur had been his name, the name of her "guest". Or was it Alexander? She couldn't remember. Something that started with an A and sounded important. She'd met him while looking for a new apartment. She had been checking out one of the walk-ups in Diagon Alley. He'd been the agent showing off the place and afterwards, he had asked her out to dinner. A few months ago Emmeline might have resisted, but the past few weeks had been the loneliest of her life. Without any friends around she'd completely isolated herself. These days she rarely spoke to anyone besides business owners and Tom.

The sex had been average at best. It was her fault really. It was the first time she'd been with a man since Gideon and she'd spent the entire time wishing it was him. Wanting his delicate touch, his familiar smell. It made it impossible to enjoy the experience or his company. She'd made it clear he was to leave the minute they were finished.

There was a tap at the door and when Emmeline opened it there was a bottle waiting and a note from Tom pleading she drink responsibly. She'd been boarding with him for three months now and in that time Tom had gone from being a complete stranger to an anxious parent. Emmeline could see he worried about her; she kept to herself, ignored letters and visits from her friends, and had made little to no progress on moving out.

Emmeline opened the window, letting in the crisp autumn breeze. She sat on the ledge, in lieu of a kitchen table to drink at, and drank straight from the bottle of wine. She looked upon the empty street below, a few dead leaves blowing about in the road. Emmeline remembered Halloweens of her youth – the giant pumpkins in the Great Hall, Hogwarts grounds flushed with colour as the leaves changed, spiked pumpkin juice on the night of the Halloween feast. Somehow Marlene always had some hidden under her robes.

"Thank the Marauders," she'd say and they'd all share a drink in their honour (and usually meet them for more drunken antics up in the Common Room).

Emmeline heard laughter and looked down to see three kids, who looked no older than eighteen, staggering through the street, arm in arm. They must've just left The Leaky Cauldron. They joked around together, pushing each other about, racing down the road and out of Emmeline's line of vision. When had that stopped being her?

Just a few weeks ago, Sirius had tried to come and see her. Emmeline had been out, thank Merlin, but Tom said he'd waited for her at the bar for over an hour when he finally gave up and left behind a one-sentence note.

I owe you an apology for my behaviour at the wake. You were right.

S

Emmeline had used it as kindling for her fire that night. The only person from the wake she was still on speaking terms with was Alice, who wrote, here and there, to check in and make sure she was doing okay. Nowadays Emmeline was either drunk, recovering from a hangover, or on the search for a new place to call home (though she'd begun to realize it was pointless. If she were truly going to move on she would need to do more than cut off old ties).

Emmeline polished off her glass, poured another and hopped down from the windowsill. She settled at the small desk in the corner, setting alight the candlestick on it with the snap of her fingers. She pulled a clean piece of parchment from the drawer and began to write. Mama, she started, filling up the page with descriptions of her unhappiness, begging her mother to let her know if there was still a road assistant position open with the Holy Harpies.

Her mother had mentioned the job in a letter a few weeks ago. Then, Emmeline had still held out hope that she could pick up and start afresh in London. She wasn't so sure now. It was a good gig really - travelling the world with a team of female Quidditch players. She would simply need to help make sure they had everything they needed before a game: water, clean jerseys, bandages, as well as accommodations on the road.

By the time Emmeline had finished her letter, she was done her third glass, the room beginning to tilt just a little. She fetched her owl from its cage and sent the message off, hoping it reached her mother sooner rather than later.

"Just like that?" She spun around, her heart pounding in her chest, and there he was. Auburn hair smoothed back, big brown eyes like a dairy cow. She wanted to touch him but she knew he wasn't real. "You're leaving?"

"What do you care? You've been gone a long time now."

"What about Mary?"

"She has Reg," Emmeline shrugged, "and Patrick."

"You know it will break her heart."

"I don't care," Emmeline admitted, however cruel it might be. "I need to do something for me."

"Don't change, Emmy," Gideon said, rising from the edge of the bed. She loved the way her said her name: Emmy. Always with such affection, a lilt in his voice. He looked so real, standing just a few feet away from her. What would happen if she rushed forth? If she took him by the collar of his shirt and kissed him with all the passion she felt stirring within her?

"Gideon…" t]Tears swelled in her eyes. "Are you real?"

"I'd like to think so." He smiled.

"Do you hate me?" The question had burnt in her mind since the day he'd died. It had haunted her. It had stopped her from accepting any chance at happiness.

"I could never hate you."

"Why not?"

"Because you can't hate the one you love. No matter how much you might try." He grinned, his nose wrinkling up the way she remembered. "Let go, Emmy," he told her, his hand reaching out for hers. "Let go of the past." Against her rational mind, Emmeline reached out. She took Gideon's hand, gasping when she found it warm, his hand gripping hers right back.

They came together and suddenly she was kissing him, as she'd pictured herself doing all night, and he had her robe off within a matter of seconds, her back pressed into the mattress, her hands around his hips. It was the happiest Emmeline had been in months.

"Let go," he whispered in her ear, his breath warm and tickly against her neck. "Just let it all go."

They finished. His arms wrapped around her and Emmeline fell asleep in his embrace. She woke in a dark room, a half-finished bottle of wine across from her and beads of perspiration formed along her forehead.

A dream. That's all it had been. Tears sprung to Emmeline's eyes and she sat there, knees drawn into her chest, sobbing. She cried until her eyes went dry and her cheeks ached. Then, not fully realizing what she was doing, she climbed out of bed and began to throw things into her trunk at a furious pace.

It was the middle of the night. Tom would be closed up downstairs by now and no one would notice her slipping off into the night. By the time anyone realized what had happened she would be in another country. Emmeline paid her tab for the month and left the money in a pouch on the desk with a four-letter note:

Tell them I'm sorry.


July 1996

One hour of peace and quiet - that was all Mary wanted. The kids had been driving her mad all morning, one of them was either crying or breaking something. It wasn't how Mary had pictured spending her first Sunday off in weeks. By noon Reg had agreed to keep them out of the house for an hour – though he made her promise to be in a better mood when they returned.

Mary had just kicked her feet up, a cup of tea beside her and the scarf she had begun knitting resting in her lap. It was the kind of thing she would have mocked ten years ago but now found great comfort in. It had only been ten minutes when the doorbell rang and Mary's peaceful oasis came to an abrupt halt.

"Oh Christ," Mary said when she'd opened the door. It was Kingsley Shacklebolt.

He grinned and said: "Is that how you greet all of your guests?"

"Just the ones I haven't seen in fifteen years."

"May I come in, Mary?"

"Why?" She didn't mean to sound rude. It was only that Kingsley's presence on her doorstep was so alarming. He was associated with a part of her life that seemed very far in her past. She had new friends now, new hobbies. The events of the first Wizarding War felt like a dream.

"I'm sorry." She tried to relax, stepping aside to let Kingsley in.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked, leading him into the living room. He paused, taking the space in, his eyes darting from the photograph lined mantel to the plush green couch.

"Taken up knitting have you, McDonald?" Her cheeks grew rosy.

"It's Cattermole now," she corrected him, drawing his attention away from the purple scarf on the couch.

"You're right." His smile was, this time, less playful and more nostalgic. There was something uneasy about it.

"We should sit down," he said, his tone changing very suddenly.

"What?" In an instant, Mary was not a thirty-six-year-old mother of three but a twenty-year-old young woman forced to witness the death of countless friends.

"It's about Emmeline," Kingsley said, hands clasped behind his back. Mary didn't need him to say it; he wouldn't have come if she weren't dead. Emmeline hadn't needed Mary in a very long time, she'd never have sent for her.

"She was ambushed while doing patrols near the Prime Minister's house—"

"The Prime Minister?" Mary didn't understand. What was a member of The Order of the Phoenix doing patrolling the Prime Minister's house, as if he had a clue what was happening within the Wizarding World?

"I don't understand…" Mary shook her head.

"She was one of us, an Auror." Mary's jaw practically hit the floor. "A pretty talented one too, I'd say. She joined up when she came back to England a few years ago."

"So she's dead, then?" Mary asked, getting straight to the point. "They killed her?" Kingsley nodded, his eyes downcast.

How could she be surprised? Emmeline had always been impulsive. Mary had worried for a long time that something would happen to her. When she'd reappeared on Mary's doorstep only a few months ago, bearing the news of Sirius Black's death, Mary had been relieved. She was alive and well. For fifteen years she hadn't known for certain what had become of her closest friend.

That was the first conversation they'd had since their tearful goodbye outside of The Leaky Cauldron. Back then Emmeline had been chastising others for disrespecting Marlene's memory. Of course, it hadn't taken her long to fall into Sirius' arms upon her return to England, Mary reflected bitterly.

"Thank you for telling me." Mary was holding the back of the armchair in front of her to keep her hands from shaking. Kingsley watched her with uncertainty.

"I know you two fell out—"

"I don't really feel like hashing out my past with Emmeline right now."

"I understand," Kingsley sighed. "I'm sorry, Mary. I'm sorry that our reunion couldn't be on better terms."

"Not many of us left standing to deliver the news, are there?"

"No," he agreed, "but you should see this new generation, Mary. These kids—"

"What kids?" Mary asked, completely clueless.

"James and Lily's son," Kingsley clarified, "Harry, and Molly's kids – do you remember Molly Weasley? The Prewett twins' sister?"

"The one who attacked Emmeline at their funeral? How could I forget?"

"They resolved all of that," Kingsley told her. Mary couldn't help feeling bitter that Kingsley knew more about Emmeline's life than she did. She had been the expert on all things Emmeline Vance at one point. They'd shared bedrooms and apartments – sometimes they'd even shared a toothbrush. Mary had forgotten how nice it had been – having a person like that in her life, one who felt more like an extension of herself than just another friend.

"I came here to give you this," Kingsley said and from his robe, he produced a sealed envelope with Mary's name across it. It was sealed with wax and Mary recognized the stamp immediately as Emmeline's. It was laughable really; she could change continents and friends but not the design of her signature wax stamp.

"We found it in her desk."

Emmeline's final words. Mary stared down at the envelope, both curious about and terrified of its contents. It seemed so foolish now, the anger she'd felt that day Emmeline had shown up. She should've embraced her - as a part of her had desperately wanted to - and forgiven mistakes of the past. Her stupid pride had gotten in the way of that.

"I should go," Kingsley said, stepping towards the archway. "You'll want to spend some time alone." Mary nodded, eyes still drawn towards Emmeline's familiar cursive on the cover of the envelope.

"It was good to see you," Mary said, looking to Kingsley with teary eyes.

"You too, Mary." He smirked, and added, " You look great."

"Oh please," Mary rolled her eyes, brushing brown hair behind her ear. Kingsley left after that, the door clicking shut behind him, and it was just Mary, alone with Emmeline's final words. If Mary just hid the letter, if she returned to her knitting and waited for the kids to come home, she might forget that Kingsley had ever come by at all or that he had delivered such awful news.

Despite her fear, Mary tore the envelope open, unfolding the parchment inside.

Mary,

I'm sorry for what I said that day, after Marlene's funeral. I'm sorry I couldn't see how much you were trying to help back then. I was lost. I miss you. I've missed you every day for the past fifteen years.

One day perhaps you will understand why I needed to leave. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Emmy


Emmeline couldn't figure out whether she was going to vomit or begin to sob hysterically. Either way, she couldn't stay in the bar any longer. The boys – Sirius and Remus - had done their best to ruin an event intended to honour Marlene's memory. Emmeline could just picture Marlene standing in the corner, watching the scene unfold in utter horror.

"Em!" Emmeline was stomping down the street; she'd taken the Diagon Alley exit (it would be easier to apparate home). Mary caught her by the shoulders, bringing them both to sudden a halt. Emmeline had hoped, against the odds, that no one would follow her, especially not Mary.

They were standing against the side of a shop, away from the crowds that moved to and fro.

"What's going on?" Mary asked, out of breath.

"I couldn't let them get away with behaving like that."

"And all that business about being finished? Finished with what, Emmeline?" Mary's eyes were confused. She searched the face of her friend for answers, as if Emmeline had any left to give. She was tired, that's all there was to it, and sick of being disappointed.

"I'm finished with The Order," Emmeline told her, keeping a blank face, "and I'm finished with them."

"Them?"

"The Marauders, our whole bloody group from Hogwarts. I'm done. I can't do it anymore."

"Do what?" Mary demanded.

"Pretend like there is any love lost between us!"

Mary's face fell. "You don't mean that—"

"I do." Emmeline stood up straight, arms crossed. Her stubbornness was a result of the anger burning through her, caused by the fact that everyone she cared about seemed to be dropping dead.

"What about me?" Mary's eyes were pleading. "What about Alice and Lily?"

"You don't need me—"

"Yes, we do!" Mary insisted. "You're my best friend, Emmy—"

"No," Emmeline shook her head, eyes turned away.

"You know you are, Emmy," Mary continued to protest. "I would do anything for you—"

"That's such a load of rubbish, Mary." Emmeline couldn't hold her tongue any longer, even if it meant facing the pained look in Mary's eyes. "You know just as well as I do that we haven't been best friends in a long time."

"That's not true…"

"When is the last time you fell into my arms for comfort? You treat me more like another child in the house than a fellow adult—"

"I worry about you, that's all," Mary said, her voice much smaller than it had been a few seconds ago.

"Reg is your best friend. He's the one holding your hand through everything. Me? I'm just a piece of nostalgia, someone to keep around because you feel like you have to—"

"That's not true!" Mary shook her head. "Emmeline, you know I've never seen you as a burden." Mary stepped forward, reaching for Emmeline's hands, squeezing them tightly in her own. "There will always be a place for you in my life."

"Mary…" Emmeline blinked back tears. She'd known it was a mistake to put mascara on for a funeral. "It isn't that simple."

"Why not?" Mary demanded like an unappeasable child.

"Because I - have - nothing," Emmeline said, voice trembling. "No home of my own, no partner to seek comfort from, no family to rely upon when I need them." Emmeline swiped beneath her eyes, catching any tears that escaped. "It's torture, being forced to watch as the rest of you move on and I'm…stuck. It's not the same anymore. Nothing between the two of us is the same—"

"Relationships change," Mary said, shrugging it off. "It's not a bad thing."

"What is left between us except for memories and an outdated sense of loyalty brought about by years of friendship? I have loved you Mary, more than you know, but it's too hard, watching as our friendship crumbles."

Mary clenched her eyes shut, tears spilling from the corners of them. Emmeline was tempted to step forward and wipe them off her cheeks. "That's it, then?" Mary asked, chin quivering. "We can't even stay friends?"

"I'm not strong enough," Emmeline confessed. "Not to stay here and watch your life move on while I'm stuck…spectating. Never moving."

"I can help you."

"You can't," Emmeline said, shaking her head. She was desperate for the painful conversation to end.

"Why not?"

"Because you couldn't give up Reg or the home you've built or the family you dream of together. You couldn't give it all up and just run away with me, without a plan, or any idea what tomorrow will bring. You couldn't, could you?"

"Why'd you let me do it then?" Mary asked, swallowing deeply, voice thick with emotion. Pain. Anger. Confusion. "Why did you let me move in with you? Why the hell did you convince me to go after Reg in the first place?"

"Because…" Emmeline dug the heel of her show into the ground.

"Because why?" Mary demanded.

"Because I didn't realize how much I needed you until you were gone!"

"I'm not gone." Tears glistened in Mary's brown eyes. "I'm right here, Emmy, I will always be here—" She reached for Emmeline's hands once more but this time Emmeline pulled away.

"You have to understand, Mary." Emmeline snuffled back tears. "Please."

"Where will you go?"

"I'll pack my things and stay in one of Tom's rooms for a while. He mentioned earlier that he's got a few vacancies." Mary was still crying, mascara tracks running down her cheeks.

"Don't," she pleaded, "don't go. You'll regret it, you know you will."

"Maybe," Emmeline agreed, "but it makes no difference." She turned to leave, to apparate a few feet away, but Mary caught her by the wrist before she could, drawing Emmeline back towards the side of the building and before she knew what was happening their lips brushed. It was a split second, a moment of passion, and then they parted (Mary's eyes rounded in shock) and Emmeline drew away before any more objections could be made.

They had come together at a time of mutual loneliness. Mary had just been kicked out and Emmeline had never had much of a family to count on in the first place, not after her Nan died. Mary had been the only constant in her life for four years and now, just like that, she was gone.

Not just like that though, Emmeline realized, Mary had been gone for a long time. Her best friend had moved on and she didn't need Emmeline anymore, or the solace their friendship had once provided, not the way Emmeline did.

Emmeline landed down the street from Mary's house, grateful Patrick was out and would not be there to see her pack up her things. With the help of magic, it took all of five minutes, her clothes folding in the air as they flung into her trunk, the same one she'd owned since the age of eleven.

She left no trace of herself behind, no reminder that she had occupied this space and a place in the family for a short period. Emmeline lugged her trunk to the pub down the street and ordered herself a drink. She would wait an hour, for The Leaky Cauldron to clear of its guests, and then she would let Tom know he had a new tenant.


"The place gets great light," the agent said, stepping through the living room to the bedroom. Sirius trailed behind her, hands tucked into his back pockets. "I can't see why we'd have any problem selling it. You can be out by the end of the month if you like." She had a quill charmed to jot down notes on the clipboard that floated behind her.

"That would be ideal." Sirius was happy to move out within the week if she thought it was possible.

"Well," she turned to him with a curt smile. "I'll let you know if I can get anything moving within the next week or so." They stepped out of the bedroom, back into the living room. Gwen, that was her name, reached for her coat and scarf on the hanger, bundling herself up for the brisk October day.

"What's prompted the sudden move then?" she asked. "New job?"

"Just…need a change," Sirius shrugged as if that were all there were to it, nothing else driving his decision to flee.

In fact, up until a few weeks ago, he'd had no plans at all to move. It was that flat where his life with Marlene had begun. They made love on the floor in the living room, by the foot of the fire, before he'd even moved in. They shared the bedroom, enjoyed many dinners at the kitchen table, cuddled on the couch at the end of a long day. Once he got rid of the apartment it was like losing a piece of her.

It was Alice who'd given him the final push. She'd arrived at the apartment with boxes and announced it was time Sirius put away Marlene's things. He'd protested, at first, but she'd turned him around.

"My father never touched anything after my mother died. He surrounded himself with reminders of her and sunk deeper and deeper into his grief because staying alone in that house allowed him to. I won't let you make the same mistake."

He knew what Marlene would tell him to do. Listen to Alice. She knows best, Sirius, you'll never move on with my clothes taking up all the room in the closet. I don't care, he'd tell her. I don't care about the closet.

Sirius didn't help very much. He sat on the edge of the bed and watched as Alice took down hanger after hanger, folding sweaters and storing them away with the flick of her wand. The shirt he'd bought her. The sweater she'd been wearing the first time they kissed. Items of his own that had been accumulated and somehow, despite his many protests, become her property.

Alice let him keep only those items which she deemed "one of a kind." The bracelet he bought for her twentieth birthday. Her journals. Her books. Her red dress. The one he'd had a vision of her wearing the night she'd died. That one had been a little more difficult to explain to Alice.

"I don't want to watch you waste away," she'd said to him at the end of the day. "I know you probably don't care very much about what I want but…Marlene was important to me." He could see the tears building in her doe eyes.

"I appreciate it."

They didn't discuss the fact that Alice still lived under the same roof as Remus. It felt years ago that they had been anything close to friends. Sirius had risked his life for Remus. He'd spent countless sleepless nights looking for ways to ease his good friend's suffering.

Sirius waved Gwen out the front door, breathing a sigh of relief when she was finally gone. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and reentered the living room, intent on sinking into the sofa for a few hours (at least until he was meant to head to Peter's for a nightly check-in).

From within the coffee table drawer, he pulled out one of the three journals he had saved of Marlene's. He still felt guilty reading it, even if she wasn't alive to care.

December 24th, 1975

James and Sirius joined me for this year's Christmas Eve party. Amy kept calling them my boyfriends. James would just roll his eyes but Sirius blushed, every time she said it. Not that I care, I can just barely stand him and only for James' sake.

August 25th, 1975

I get it now, what James saw in him. When Sirius let me hold him, the night he ran away from home, I saw a different side of him. He didn't tease me about it the morning. In fact, we haven't brought it up once. He's got a lot of walls, thick ones, but he's worth the effort, I suppose.

September 16th, 1978

Amy sent Alex to Paris to check on me. She thinks I'm making a mistake staying here. Alex said I'll wear myself down if I keep going at the rate I am. I can't stop though. If I go home I'll fall right back into his arms. His. I can't even write his bloody name without yearning. I can't sleep without dreaming of him. Henry, forgive me.

Sirius closed the book after that, shoving it away in the drawer once more. Reading her words was more painful than he'd anticipated. He leaned back, neck resting on the back of the couch, eyes closed.

"You don't need to read those. I'll tell you anything you want to know." He opened his eyes and there she was, sitting beside him, feet tucked beneath her, wearing the same oversized t-shirt she'd been in the last morning he'd seen her.

"You look like you haven't been sleeping," she said, reaching out to brush his cheek, prickly with stubble. "Maybe you should switch up your bedtime reading."

"I didn't mean to pry—" Sirius apologized as if Marlene's ghost might be offended.

"You already know it all."

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and then she leaned in, slowly, and pressed her lips against his. Her ghost had never done that before.

"Oh Marls." He closed his eyes and let her climb onto his lap, her hair tickling the side of his neck. "I missed you."

"I've been here." She told him, trailing kisses along his jaw. He could touch her. His hands clasped around her hips. She felt real, not like the ghostly vision he was used to.

"Let's run away together," he said, eyes still closed, memorizing the feeling of Marlene's lips. "Let's get married and have those children we've always talked about. Let's do it all."

"Okay," she agreed.

Sirius woke up - his neck aching - alone in the dark.


James and Harry were raking leaves in the backyard. More accurately, James was using magic to gather leaves into a pile so that Harry could jump into them, dirtying his freshly cleaned clothes. Lily was watching them from the kitchen window, laughing, rolling her eyes every so often.

With the help of magic (and her mother's old recipe book), she was mixing up an apple crumble for dessert. They couldn't hand candy out to the local trick or treaters this year, or take Harry out to collect candy of his own, so they'd settled instead on a quiet family dinner. Sirius had been invited, though it was a 50/50 chance he showed.

Lily couldn't help but smile, watching as Harry lay on his back, erupting in a fit of giggles as his father pretended to bury him in leaves. He was such a happy baby, despite their unfortunate circumstances. He handled it much better than his parents.

Lily stuck the crumble in the oven to bake and returned to the living room where she had a cup of tea and a mystery novel waiting for her. She used her wand to rewarm the tea and settled back into the couch, opening her book to the page she'd left off at.

"Lil, sweetheart." Lily looked up from her novel, startled, and there, sitting across the room, in the armchair near the fireplace, was her father. Hands clasped across his belly, lips turned up in a smile.

"Daddy?" Lily's hands were shaking. She shoved aside the book, not daring to take her eyes off of him.

"Hullo love." She leapt off the couch and threw her arms around him, nuzzling her face into his chest. He smelled the same, like amber and cigar smoke. Tears built in Lily's green eyes.

"You've done so well darling. Yer mum and I are very proud." Everything about him felt so real. He was warm. His sweater scratched the side of her face. His large hands grasped her. Lily could close her eyes and pretend that she was fourteen, seeking her father's comfort after a terrible fight with her sister.

"How are you here?" she kept asking, tears streaming down her face.

"You'd know the answer to that question better than me, love."

"I've missed you terribly," Lily said, looking up at her father with tears in her eyes.

"I'm here." He took Lily's hand in his, gripping it tightly. "We're both here, yer mother and I." He kissed the top of her hand. "How wonderful yer family is, Lily."

"Oh daddy, if only you could meet James—"

"I know he must be a brilliant man if he won yer heart."

"And Harry—" How Lily had yearned for her father to meet his grandson.

"He's a beautiful boy. He looks like a future pro football player if you ask me."

Lily laughed, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. She missed this. Having a laugh with her dad. Watching football on the telly together. Taking long drives to obscure fish and chip stands on the outskirts of town that her father insisted were the best.

"James feels the same way," Lily told him, smiling, "though not about football – there's a wizard's game that is similar."

"Quidditch," her father remembered, catching Lily by surprise. "He'll be a wizard then?" her father asked. "Like you and yer husband?"

"Yes," Lily nodded. "He's already shown signs of magic."

"That's brilliant Lil." There was no hint of malice in her father's voice. Of course, he'd never minded the magic. Neither had her mother. We knew, they'd said when Lily received her letter; funny things always seem to happen around you.

"He's such an amazing boy," Lily gushed, her arms draped upon her father's knee. "He said his first word a few months ago – doggy," Lily chuckled to herself. It would be too complicated to explain to her father that this was due to the fact that her son's godfather had the ability to transform into a shaggy, black dog.

"He has this toy broomstick that his godfather bought for his birthday. He rides it around the house like a pro." Lily rolled her eyes. "It drives me crazy. He's already broken a vase—"

"Oh dear," her father grinned, "you sound like yer mother."

"Can't you stay?" Lily begged. "Just for a little while longer, so that you can meet the boys—"

"I can't." Lily's stomach sank. "Don't look so sad, my darling." He gave her cheek a playful pinch.

Suddenly Lily was awake, gasping for air. Her book – which had been laying sprawled open on her chest – went flying across the room.

"Hey, hey, hey," James was by her side in an instant. "It was just a dream." He ran circles along her back until she calmed down, leaning into him. Harry was on the floor, staring up at them curiously. He was still in his dirty clothes from outside.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Not long, your timer is still going." He smoothed back her hair, kissing the crown of her head.

"I could've sworn my father was sitting right there," Lily said pointing to the vacant armchair across from them. "He felt so real…" Her heart was still pounding. James was looking at her – not without some concern – his hand reaching for hers.

"It was a dream," he assured her. Lily let him pull her into his arms, Harry now preoccupied with the toys in the basket near the back wall – his favourite spot. "At least it was a good one, I hope."

"It was." Lily held his hand close to her chest. "He said he thought Harry would make a very good football player."

James scoffed. "I think you mean Quidditch."

"Oh? You wouldn't be just as proud of our boy if he made it onto Manchester United?" Lily asked, staring up at her husband with a smile on her face.

He sighed. "I suppose I'd have to figure out how the hell you play football."

"I'll teach you."

"You know how to play football?" The disbelief in his voice was enough to earn a mildly offended reaction from Lily.

"I would cream you at a game of footy," Lily proclaimed, sitting up now so that James could see just how serious she was. He was amused.

"I'm sure you could," he chuckled. "I'd love to see you playing football."

"Maybe I'll take you to a game," Lily said. James pulled her into his lap, pushing aside her long red hair. She needed a haircut – not that she saw many people these days.

"You're going to turn our boy into a football fan aren't you?" He had her leaning back in the couch, their faces inches apart.

"Would that be so bad?"

"No. Not as long as long as we make the World Cup a family tradition."

"Those tickets are outrageous!" Lily protested.

"Have you forgotten what your last name is?" James teased her. Lily rolled her eyes.

"Arrogant prick."

He kissed her despite the insult and Lily let him. Their bodies pressed against each other. Harry sat with his back turned to them, more interested in a beeping toy truck than his parents getting it on on the couch behind him.

James was fumbling with the buttons on Lily's blouse when the timer for the crisp went off, both pulling away reluctantly.

"To be continued," she promised her husband, rather breathlessly, pressing a sloppy kiss on his cheek.


Alice came rushing through the front door, bags of Halloween decorations in either hand.

"You will never believe what happened!" she enthused, rushing into the living room where Remus and Frank sat. Neville was sitting before a toy piano. He jumped up when he saw his mama and ran straight into her arms.

"Voldemort was killed?"

Frank and Alice looked toward Remus in disbelief. "What? A man can dream."

"I just saw Cecily! Cecily and her baby!" Remus' eyebrows rose with curiosity but Frank simply went white as a ghost, reminded of the child that was nearly his. What a time that had been.

"Has she figured out who the father is?" Remus said slyly.

"I didn't speak much to her. Only long enough to know she has a daughter named Aurora and that she is dating some soon to be famous musician." Alice rolled her eyes. "Not much has changed."

"You spoke to her?" Frank asked. Surprised.

"Why not?" Alice shrugged. She came over to the couch, squeezing between Remus and Frank. "I got the guy didn't I?"

"Yeah, well," Frank blushed, "I don't think she had much chance, to begin with."

"Well, I have to admit, Alice," Remus spoke up from her other side, "I was hoping your sighting was of the…ghostly kind."

"Ghostly? Why on earth?"

"Didn't you read The Prophet this morning? We all know that the veil weakens on All Hallows' Eve but apparently, this is a record year. Spirits with messages can push forth, just for a little while. People all over the country have been describing sightings." The enthusiasm in Remus' face drained and he added, "I sort of hoped Dorcas might show up…"

"You don't need any special sightings to know that Dorcas is with you," Alice reassured him. "I can't believe she'd ever let you out of her sight."

Remus offered to bring Neville up for his nap after that, giving Alice and Frank a moment alone. He always seemed to know exactly when to do that.

"No dramatic fight, then?" Frank asked, partly joking, once they were alone.

"Between Cecily and I? No, thank Merlin."

"Bugger. It was nice, having the two of you battling it out for my attention."

"There was no battling," Alice reminded him pointedly. "I believe you chose me."

"I believe you," Frank tapped her on the nose, "told me that you would fight for me."

"I hate your memory," Alice grumbled, sinking back into the couch. Frank wrapped his arm around her.

"I'm glad you did, though." He kissed the side of her face and then the tip of her nose and then her lips, slowly.

"I'm glad you gave me a second chance." She nuzzled her face into his neck.

"Well, I never did stop loving you. I don't think I ever could."

"I don't think I could stand it if you did. You're stuck with me, forever."

"I can live with that." They sat there, quietly, Frank arms wrapped around Alice, her, comfortable against his chest. There was nowhere she'd rather be. How foolish she had been, all those years ago, when she had believed there might be something more. There was nothing more than Frank, Alice had quickly realized, he was what made her world go round.

"What're you thinking about?" Frank asked once the silence had dragged on.

"How much I love you. I don't say it enough."

"You say it plenty," he assured her, her chin in his hand as he drew her face closer towards his own. They were kissing, Alice's fingers trailing down the back of Frank's neck when he pulled away suddenly.

"Let's have another baby," he said, practically taking her breath away.

"What?"

"Let's have another baby," he repeated, his forehead coming to press against her own. Alice stared at him like he was a lunatic.

"I just got back into the swing of things at work," she reminded him. "Neville only started sleeping through the night a month ago—"

"I am sick to death of being so sad, aren't you?" Alice couldn't argue with that. "If we had a new baby…"

"We can't just put a bandage over the problem," Alice reminded her husband, quite reasonably. "There's a war going on and we aren't even sure we're going to win it—"

"It didn't stop us the first time."

"The first time was a bit of a surprise."

"Do you regret it?" Frank asked her.

"Of course not! I love Neville—"

"He makes it all so much more bearable," Frank reminded her. "He makes it all seem worth it."

"It's crazy, Frank…" But not entirely out of the realm of possibilities. Alice loved Neville to death and she knew she didn't want him to end up an only child, not like her and Frank. She wanted him to have a sibling, someone to be a big brother to – he was so good at taking care of his toys Alice just knew he'd be wonderful at looking after a little sibling.

"Will you think about it?"

"You're always two steps ahead, you know that?" He grinned. "I don't know why I even try to fight it anymore."

"Is that a yes?"

"It's a strong maybe."

"I'm okay with that." He leaned in, kissing her deeply, holding her close, imagining a future that would never come to be.


Peter didn't sleep very well these days. He was either being shaken awake by Evan and dragged off on some "official duty" or woken up in a cold sweat after a terrible dream about Marlene. She haunted him endlessly. He'd been losing hair over it, gaining weight as he stress ate to try and distract himself from the guilt that gnawed at him.

He could hardly stand it, being around any of his old friends. All they spoke about now were the good old days, and the ones they'd lost. He'd gone over to James and Lily's a week after Marlene's murder, for Harry's birthday. He'd been the only one to show up, besides Bathilda, and he'd hardly been able to stomach it. He could see the grief, eating them alive, and they were truly naive enough to believe it was doing the same to him.

He was sitting down at the canal near his apartment. It was almost five, the sun was dimming. Soon the jack o'lanterns outside all of the houses would be lit and the streets would flood with children in Halloween costumes.

Soon, Peter would need to go to his "home" in London. A shabby old apartment in the south-end that Alecto held onto for this exact purpose - a disguise. Sirius visited Peter every night, just after seven, to make sure he was safe (and not yet caving, of course). Peter knew that they didn't trust him. They thought him weak, it was why he had been chosen. Sirius had suggested it, no doubt. Spineless, craven Peter would never be the Death Eaters' target. He had to admit, it was a little funny.

Funny. Perhaps that was the wrong word. Peter didn't exactly find it funny that soon he would be behind the murder of his once dearest friends. James and Lily had been nothing but nice to him over the years - though, he'd once felt the same way about Marlene. They had a son, a kind, innocent little boy, who would be the real casualty in all of it. It didn't matter anyway, Peter reminded himself, pushing aside his lingering regret, there was no turning back now.

Evan and Alecto knew that Peter had been made Secret Keeper. They'd sat on the information for a week or two, seen what advantage it could bring them, and then decided that it was finally time to inform the Dark Lord.

"He'll likely want to meet you," Evan had said before he left the apartment that morning. He was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, adjusting the knot in his tie. "Soon," Evan added as if the mere suggestion that Voldemort would know his name was not enough to leave Peter shaking in his boots.

Peter watched as a family of ducks floated by on the water and then he rose from the bench and began to walk in the opposite direction of home, prepared to apparate to his usual evening location.

"PETER!" He froze, the hairs on his arms standing on end. Evan was running down the road. He wasn't wearing his tie now, just the white, button-down shirt with the collar loose. He reached Peter on the sidewalk, gasping for breath. Had he run the entire way from home?

"It's happening!" he finally spat out. Peter's stomach sunk like a stone.

"What's happening?"

"It's time for you to play your part, Peter," Evan announced, a proud smile stretching from cheek to cheek. "This is a great honour, do you understand that? If all goes well tonight Voldemort will regard you highly in his ranks." Peter gulped anxiously. "The war might end."

"He wants to meet me?" Peter clarified, struggling to keep his voice from shaking. Evan nodded enthusiastically.

"He's here," he said, nudging his head back towards the road he'd just come sprinting down.

"Here?" Peter felt sick.

"In our apartment. He's waiting for you. It's time to tell him everything you know." Evan took Peter's arm in a tight grip - as if to remind him there was no chance of backing out now - and dragged him back up the street towards their apartment.

"But what about Sirius?" Peter asked anxiously. "He'll know something is up if I'm not at the apartment-"

"It doesn't matter," Evan said, eyes focused ahead. "None of that matters anymore."

Peter realized that this was it, this was the moment everything would change.


A/N: The beginning of the end. It seems so crazy to finally be writing the final chapter. This is part one of two and the next chapter will be the last, can you believe it?! Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who has been reading this fanfic from the beginning, sending me lovely messages and constant encouragements to continue the story through till the end. Your reviews and messages never go unnoticed and they are without a doubt the driving force behind me getting these updates out. Hope you enjoyed this chapter and the one that will follow. xx