Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't,

"Do you think you'll ever make it this far, Moony?"

"I don't know, Padfoot."

Remus watched James spin his new bride merrily on the dance floor and hated the pang of jealousy that pounded through his chest. That kind of happiness, that get out of bed in the morning, do back flips just for fun, my heart feels so full happiness had always been out of his reach. Just ever so slightly eluding his grasp. He turned back to Sirius and was angered by the quiet voice that could not possibly belong to him.

"What about you?"

Sirius blinked with surprise at the question and then laughed brightly.

"Nah." He scratched his chin and threw a roguish wink in the direction of the blushing bridesmaids. "Marriage isn't really for me."

"Always the bridesmaid and never the bride, 'eh?" Remus asked dryly with a raised eyebrow as he noticed the direction of Sirius' eager gaze.

"Don't be daft, Moony." He stood swiftly from his chair and ruffled the werewolf's hair; much to the latter's annoyance. "Always the bridesmaids. Plural." With another, decidedly rakish, chuckle Sirius left in pursuit of taffeta and totty. Remus shook his head and his eyes traitorously returned to the sickeningly wonderful scene being played out by the Potters. What he would do for that kind of happiness.

Years later, eloping with Tonks in a ceremony devoid of character, devoid of friends, Remus pictured the Potter wedding and realised he still hadn't had that kind of happiness.

Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't,

As James lie writhing on the floor, curling in the foetal position as his mates laughed like the bastards they were, only one thought flashed through his mind.

How was Lily going to bear his children if she insisted on damaging vital goods in an attempt to prevent him from pro-creating?

Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much.

"What did I do to deserve you?" James asked as he stroked his wife's hair lazily, half dozing on the sofa as late night television flickered idly in the background. Lily was silent, her breathing slow and heavy indicating she was already fast asleep on his chest. James glanced down at her lovingly, the strength of his love for the red-headed ex-Head Girl no longer a surprising clutch on his heart but instead a comforting warmth that spread all the way to his fingertips. His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose and a slow smile curved his lips. "I'll tell you my theory then; I think Merlin is looking down and he decided that, because I am just so awesome, I needed a reward. Et voila." His voice was soft, careful not to wake her and he wondered whether loving Lily Evans (now Potter) had addled his brains because he was definitely turning a little bit crazier every day. He shifted experimentally and she snuggled deeper into his embrace. He moved slowly to an upright position and scooped her into his arms bridal style to carry her up the stairs to bed without waking her. He stood with her cradled in his embrace and rolled his eyes when he noticed some of her make up on his t-shirt next to a wet patch where Lily had clearly dribbled on him.

"Awesome."

Or berate yourself either

The last thought that flashed, clear and irritating and angry, through his mind as the last few syllables rolled from the Voldemort's mouth was that Peter betrayed them and that he, as a father, as a husband, as a friend, had failed.

Your choices are half chance, so are everybody else's.

"My Lord, both the Potter child and the Longbottom boy fit the description of the Prophecy."

"It is the Potter boy. The son of a mudblood and a blood traitor. He has been marked as my equal in blood. He is the one."

~*~