Chapter 79: Mors et Creatio*

1 November 1979

The Shelter

It was nearly noon before Hermione made her way home. All she wanted was a warm shower, a cup of tea, and a fucking hug. In that order. She was dead on her feet as she tumbled through the floo. The trek to her room passed in a blur before her mind was snapped back in place.

She noticed the smell first. Fresh kill. New death. And she just knew. It was ritual now, the locking of the door, the silencing charm, the cleansing spells, removing any trace of him from her space. She kept him a secret. She wondered if he knew she hadn't told anyone.

Four crows lie on her bed, wings outstretched with necks twisted at impossible angles. Thankfully, there was no blood. Hermione blinked down at them as she stepped closer. She wanted to touch them, an urge driven by curiosity and a latent fear that she's been imagining it all. The moment her fingertips touched the inky black feathers of one of the birds, its eyes opened, milky white and all-seeing. Dolohov's voice echoed from the throat of the crow.

"Что тебе сказали?"

They exploded then, all at once in a great burst of feathers and claws and beaks. Something scratched Hermione's cheek. She closed her eyes. Feathers swarmed her for a hectic moment before everything stilled. When she looked again, all evidence of the birds was gone. Her room was empty, and she was alone. On her bed sat a single feather, almost blue in its darkness, and a note.

"What did they tell you?"

She kept the note, just like the others before it. She didn't know why, but now there were three of them sat together in a black porcelain box. She didn't know why she hadn't told anyone about these gifts. She didn't know if it was stupid or selfish. Both, likely. She knew that Dolohov scared her, worried her, but she still couldn't bring herself to tell her friends. So she cleaned up the scratch on her face and kept the note, and she tried not to think about how easy it was for him to get inside her house.

November 1979

They spent November picking up the pieces.

The full moon came quick after the Samhain attack. Peter was still confined to his bed, but the rest of the pack spent the night together. Moony and Pup didn't play. They were calm and subdued, herding Padfoot and Prongs, nudging with noses until the four fell together in a heap of fur.

Peter healed. His leg was shredded and the muscle was regrown, but he was like a newborn fawn learning to walk. Hermione spent time at Ancient & Antiquated, keeping him company, but her presence was damaging. There was something in the magic of the shop that turned her stomach. It kept her tight on the edge, skirting the accusations on her tongue and confusion in her heart. She wasn't there because she cared, though a traitorous part of her did. She was there because she was trying to figure it out, to figure out where everything goes wrong.

They fought. A lot. About his recovery, about misplaced items, about her attitude. It wasn't pretty, and if Hermione hadn't grown up with Ron and Harry's tempers, she'd have given up. But she kept coming back. They kept fighting, and Peter couldn't tell that he'd lost something already.

Lily restarted Sunday night dinners again, inviting others along from the Order, doing her best to fill the empty space in Potter Manor. It felt better having more people around. Friends made it when they could, stayed for as long as they could. The floo stayed open and there was always more food on the table.

Marlene and Dorcas came together. They'd grown more private in their time away from Hogwarts. Marlene was still loud and her presence commanding, but when the two of them pulled off to a corner, it was like they were in their own little world. The soft edges of Dorcas had sharpened and there was a permanent line between her brows.

Frank and Alice popped in and out. They brought sunshine and hope and light when the rest of them tended to trail shadows behind them. They were open and honest about actively trying for a baby. The table clapped and congratulated. A feeling that was unwelcomely familiar stirred in Remus' chest.

Then late one night, Sirius came to Hermione's room. He just wanted to be near her, to be together. He just wanted to know that when he woke up someone would know. Sirius Black didn't sleep much anymore. And it was easier in the dark, opening up to him, pulling open the covers to let him in. Sirius climbed in beside her and for a moment Hermione thought she might say something. But she didn't, and she turned her back to him, giving him space to settle.

Silence weighed heavy like a winter blanket, but from his grip on her hip she knew he hadn't fallen asleep yet. They fell asleep to the sound silence and all the things unsaid.

24 December 1979

Potter Manor

December brought new light, a reflection against the cold.

The end of the year found everyone once more gathering at the Potters' on Christmas Eve. The house was fuller. Most of the Order attended. There was celebrating and dancing, food and spirits. Hermione arrived clutching Sirius and Remus' hands.

They toasted the year, each other, the victories shared and the people lost. They smiled and laughed, telling stories and secrets. Lily walked through rooms with her fingers brushing the walls. War or not, she would fill this house.

"So." James held out a freshly filled glass to Remus.

"So?"

James looked across the room and raised an eyebrow. Remus followed his gaze to where Sirius and Hermione stood talking to Benjy Fenwick and Gideon Prewett. Sirius' hand stayed at her waist. Hermione's body was nuzzled into his side.

"How's it going?"

Remus sighed. "It's complicated."

"Complicated?" James laughed into his cup as he took a drink. "How complicated can it be? They're obviously mad about each other."

"They're not together."

"What? No! When did that happen?"

"It's been a bit," Remus said. "I don't know what happened, but they've been okay."

James looked between Remus and Sirius and Hermione. "Are you sure? They look like they're together."

"It's not—" Remus sighed and turned to face James. "He sleeps in her room most nights. She's constantly reaching to touch him. They can barely function if they're not within sight of each other. They look like they're together. They probably should be together. But they're not."

"But why?"

"Mate, not everyone gets the fairytale like you and Lil."

"Fairytale?"

"You know, the happily ever after. All that."

"But why?" James had turned back to watch his brother. "Everyone deserves a fairytale."

Remus' mouth opened and closes several times. He had a litany of answers. Not every fairytale ended in a wedding. Sometimes there was struggle. Sometimes there was confusion. Sometimes there were wolves. He had a list of reasons, but he settled for, "It's complicated."

"James, come help me!" Lily pulled her husband through the halls of their home, nodding and smiling at friends as they passed.

"Lil," James laughed. "I think we have enough wine."

She only winked at him and pulled him along until the sound of music and laughter faded and shadows danced on their skin. They stepped lightly through the hall as if walking on air.

She'd pulled him into the room just beside their bedroom. Out of his peripheral vision, James noticed some boxes in the darkness he knew hadn't been there before. Lily's hand came up to cradle his face. He turned all his attention to her.

"You know I love you, right?"

"Yeah, I know." Merlin, but her smile was contagious.

"Good, just making sure." She leaned in, wrapping her arms around his neck, and kissed him deeply. Her kiss wasn't frantic or heady. It was timeless and carried with it such a feeling of love that James felt something squeeze at his heart. She pulled back and rested her forehead against his. He watched as she caught her breath, eyes closed.

"Hey."

"Yeah?" She opened her eyes.

"You know I love you, too, right? More than anything."

"I know."

It wasn't the first time they had said it and it certainly wouldn't be the last, but something about this time, this moment, felt special to him. James pulled Lily into his arms, blocked out the world and focused on her, her scent, her warmth, her strength. He loosened his arms only when she moved to reach his lips to whisper in his ear.

The thought, the inkling, the possibility had been at the tip of her tongue for days. She'd been scared, but for once in her life, she hadn't wanted to wait and plan. She just had to know she was right. Her words were rushed, unplanned, but they spilled from her lips with a fierce excitement that gripped his heart. He couldn't see her face, but the hope laced through her words sent a heated shiver down his spine. He waited patiently, quiet for once, as his hands moved to stroke her sides. She'd checked and confirmed. Multiple times, of course. And she was excited. And he was, too, right?

He stood in her arms, eyes open but looking into the future, into the dreams he'd often lost himself in. Once upon a time they had been mere dreams, but now they were so tangible he could taste them. He licked his lips. Sweet. Red wine and the fading light of her kiss. Gods, but they were young. This was crazy, right? There was a war going on, a war already hitting too close to home. There was worry and fear and hesitation. But here, standing in her arms, with her warmth and love wrapped tightly around him—Is it possible to love someone too much?

His excitement was so sure, so obvious, so inevitable that he forgot she was waiting for a reaction. He held her out in his arms, looked her over and marveled at this woman before him. His smile lit up her world. He took her face in his hands and kissed her. Sweet. Whiskey and the sting of salt from tears.

This is it, he thought as he wrapped his arms around her. This is what people write about, sing about, tell stories about. This is the fairytale.

Something frightening stirred in him as he broke the kiss and stared into the depths of her green eyes. He would love this woman forever, and he would die before anything in this world threatened to destroy what they were building.

The air in the room shifted with the weight of a whisper, a secret, and a kiss.

"We're having a baby."

Chapter Title Translation: *Death and Creation