A/N: Amy's POV

As our friends gathered their coats, I tried not to think about how pale Lily looked, how flat her hair was, the bags under her eyes. I tried not to see that James's hair wasn't as perky as usual and that his hazel eyes were almost permanently bloodshot.

I could have put that all off on their being relatively new parents, but then there was Remus who looked like he was the walking dead, and even Peter had gotten thin.

Everyone had fresh scars, and James's hands trembled when he tried to stir his tea.

I tried not to think about it, and I didn't ask questions. I didn't really want to know the answers to any questions I could think up.

Instead, I smiled and thanked them for coming and helped Peter put his coat on while James and Sirius muttered to each other on the front step. Before the last person had even left I was back in the kitchen, hand-washing the dishes to try to work through my thoughts.

It all crept up on me so quickly I hadn't realized. I saw Sirius every day, so his deterioration hadn't occurred to me until I saw everyone together.

The door closed and I knew Sirius had finished his talk with James, but before he could come into the kitchen, Sirius had to read Aludra the story he promised her.

I scrubbed at Peter's plate, a mess of pasta sauce already sticking to it stubbornly as I ran it under water, anxiously scrubbing.

Officially, I was better. I no longer shook uncontrollably. I no longer found Sirius waking me from a screaming, thrashing nightmare of Bellatrix torturing me. I no longer felt inexplicable pain that Lily had to treat me for. I was given a medical all-clear. I was better.

Officially.

As far as anyone asked, I felt much better, fully healed. I didn't want Sirius to worry, although I knew he could hardly sleep the whole night through, waking up frequently to make sure I was still breathing, still in his arms.

I could scarcely believe we were at this point, this place where we were both terrified and yet neither of us could say what we felt or thought. How could I tell Sirius I was terrified of him dying? That I couldn't look at Lily without thinking I might lose her?

But he kept things from me, too.

In a way, it was better before I had really seen the war, before I knew the things my friends were seeing. If this had happened right after we left Hogwarts, right before we got engaged, I would have probably joined the Order myself. I would have felt I had a responsibility to do whatever I could, just as I felt I had a responsibility in that moment in Diagon Alley, rushing to help others instead of going straight home.

Now I had the girls and I couldn't justify joining the Order. I didn't think Sirius would have ever forgiven me if I had.

He was feeling guilty, I knew. I could still remember all the promises he'd given me to keep me safe, to never let anything hurt me. He'd been saying them for years, but I remembered clearly him holding me in the Hogwarts infirmary after I'd nearly died, telling me that he would protect me no matter what. I hadn't wanted him to make those promises then, but I knew he needed to say it.

Standing in the kitchen, scrubbing the last bolognaise off Peter's plate, I wished I had never let him make those promises.

I had already resolved to ask Mad-Eye about getting my reflexes back up to where they were. If anything did happen, if I did have to duel again, I didn't want to be such an easy target. There was once a time when I could have matched Bellatrix, not so very long ago. If the girl I was in school could have seen me cowering, bloodied in Diagon Alley she would have been disgusted.

I was disgusted.

How was I supposed to protect my children if I couldn't match Bellatrix?

I set Peter's now-clean plate on the drying rack and I heard Sirius closing the door to Aludra's room. Ignoring him, I turned my attention to Remus's plate, which was virtually clean as it was. I smiled to myself at how neat and agreeable Remus was, even when he looked like death itself.

The smile dropped.

The kitchen door opened and I heard Sirius walking toward me. I continued to ignore him, even as he wrapped his arms around me, resting his head on my shoulder.

"Hello, beautiful," he said gently, kissing my neck. "You don't have to do all this by hand, you know."

"I want to."

"Why?" he pressed, nuzzling my neck lovingly. I could smell his soap over the stink of the dishwater, and it was hard to concentrate on what I was doing between his scent and his lips and his hands, which were caressing their way up to my breasts.

"Gives me time to process my thoughts. Most of the time I have to think of six things at once, but when I do the dishes I don't have to think about it. My hands take over and just do it."

He hummed against my skin, but he took the plate out of my hands, setting it in the drying rack. I saw a bit of longing in his eyes as he turned me around to face him, my back pressed against the edge of the sink as he pushed our bodies together.

"You'd been washing a clean plate since I entered the room," he said softly. "Something's on your mind, love."

"Mmm."

He pressed his lips to my jaw, tracing them lazily down my neck. I wanted to lace my fingers through his hair and grip, grip so tightly and never let go. But I couldn't. We did need to talk.

I pushed him away from my neck and gave him a significant look and he sighed, pulling away from me and sitting at the table. He pulled me on his lap, waiting for me to say what it was I wanted to talk about.

"You don't tell me everything," I finally said, and he looked nervous, shifting beneath me. I wondered what all he was keeping from me, what secrets he was forced to keep, and what secrets he chose to keep.

But now was not the time to ask.

"Amy, you're not in the Order."

"You have more scars than you did last week."

He tensed under me, his eyes looking everywhere, anywhere but my face. They were scars from wounds I hadn't treated, which meant they were scars he'd not wanted me to know about for whatever reason.

"And Lily looks like she's battling six cases of flu at once," I continued. "James's hair even looks tired, never mind the rest of him. Peter's gotten too thin, and Remus—"

"Don't," he said sternly. "Stop, Amy, just stop."

I sat quietly on his lap, not pressing him, giving him a moment to think about what he was going to say to me. He had that right.

"It's not that I'm trying to keep you in the dark," he finally said. "But there's things you don't need to know, things it won't help if I tell you. The less you know, the less likely they are to come looking for you."

I wasn't sure if he really expected me to believe that, but I nodded numbly, not wanting to upset him. He felt like he was protecting me, and after the scare I'd given him there was no need to make him feel smaller.

"I don't like seeing everyone like this," I whispered, resting my head on his shoulder. "I don't like thinking that the next time we all get together, one of us won't be here. I…"

"Shh," he said, putting his fingers under my chin and lifting my face so that we were looking each other in the eye. "Amy, I can't promise nothing is going to happen to anyone we care about, but I can promise that none of us is going down without a fight. We're good at what we do."

He pressed his lips to mine gently, but I didn't want gentle. I wanted to lose myself in him, forget about everything but the way touching him made me feel.

Sirius didn't put up a fight. He never put up a fight when I traced my fingers along his jaw. Instead, he took the hint and deepened the kiss, pulling our bodies a bit closer. I smiled into the kiss, noticing that he was sitting a bit straighter, his ears actually perking up as I traced the lobes, like a puppy dog getting scratched behind the ears. If he'd had a tail in human form, I had no doubt that it would be wagging furiously.

I let his hands lightly glide up my stomach, to my breasts, which he kneaded gently through the fabric of my shirt. I didn't let him do this long, and I pulled the shirt off before he could protest to being pushed away from my chest. At the sight of bare skin, he didn't seem to mind anymore, and he hungrily kissed his way down my throat, his hands fumbling with the clasp of my bra.

Silently grateful I'd taken the dishes off the table when I started washing them, I climbed onto the kitchen table, watching his eyes burn as he stood, kicking the chair back toward the sink to get it out of his way. I was already shimmying my jeans off and he was hastily scrambling out of his own, licking his lips before pressing kisses to my torso, pausing to nibble gently at the base of my ribs. I pushed back before he could reach my breasts, pulling at the hem of his shirt. He ripped it over his head and tossing it over his shoulder.

I giggled and he raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Your shirt's in the sink," I said.

"Fuck sake, Amy," he groaned. He pulled my legs apart and tugged me closer, feeling my panties brush his boxers as he gritted his teeth. "Forget the shirt and kiss me."

He didn't have to ask twice, and I pulled his neck down so he could be closer, closer to my lips, closer to my teeth. His mouth eagerly met with mine as his fingers toyed with the worn straps of the panties I'd had for ages now. I knew what he was going to do before he did it, recalling breathlessly the first time he'd torn a pair of my panties, when I'd moved into his flat.

I closed my eyes, feeling him snap the straps and pull my panties away from my body. In response I pressed myself against his boxers, feeling him throb against me through the fabric. His breathing was heavy and erratic and I felt a bit dizzy myself with desire. His fingers gently rubbed at me with slightly rough skin, but I hardly cared that his hands weren't soft. They were warm and knew just the right pressure to place to drive me out of my mind with want.

"Sirius," I groaned, leaning my head back, basking in the feeling of him touching me.

He chuckled and muttered something about my being greedy, until I ground into him again and he hissed at the pressure this put on his cock. He pulled me closer again, letting my legs wrap around his waist as he pressed hungry kisses to my exposed throat.

"Need," he managed to moan as I ground into him once more. "Fuck, need you."

I closed my eyes, feeling my pulse in my pussy, pounding with insistent and painful need for him, as well. My mind couldn't string the words together, but I could comprehend that something was in the way.

The clock on the wall chimed midnight and Sirius pulled away slightly from my neck with a chuckle. I blinked, confused. Was it morning? Was it a dream? No, Sirius was still holding me on the kitchen table, practically nude. I wasn't dreaming.

"Happy Valentine's Day, my love," he sighed, before peeling off his boxers and kicking them aside.

Valentine's Day, I mused as he pulled me even closer. Was it really already? I'd barely gotten used to it being February. Not being in school, not having to write the date on everything, I had quite forgotten how to keep track of the days.

The thought was chased away as he entered me. I hadn't realized just how needy I was, just how wet, until he slid inside me with absolutely no trouble. I wasn't as tight as I used to be, three children in, but he was large enough that there was still some amount of friction if he slid in too soon.

Not tonight. This morning?

Tonight.

I hissed, grabbing at his shoulder as the feeling of him filling me consumed my thoughts. I heard him swear with his face pressed to my neck. I shifted, trying to get more friction building between us, and he took the hint to begin thrusting in and out, although not as quickly as I would have liked.

If I could have gone back in time and given my teenaged self any advice, the first thing would have been to stop being so upset that Sirius was keeping me from having sex with his over-protectiveness. It really didn't matter that I had nothing to compare him to. Anything else would have felt like such a waste of time, knowing how incredible it was to be with Sirius. And Sirius was so proud of himself, knowing he was the only person who had ever touched me, the only man who'd ever been inside of me, the only man who knew how to make me scream, how to make my toes curl with unbearable pleasure.

So he threatened and cursed a few dozen blokes when we were young. Did that really matter in the big scheme of things?

I found it difficult to breathe as he picked up the pace, his eyes locked with mine in the dim light of the kitchen. His gray eyes flashed and burned with desire and lust as we rutted against each other like animals. I felt my fingernails digging into him, my body weak and twitching as it responded to the sheer power of my husband to reduce me to this. I gasped as he buried himself particularly deep, and he growled at my response, at my body's involuntary response.

"C'mon," he hissed at me, his jaw clenched. I could feel him throbbing, could feel how close he was. My walls were contracting slightly as well around him, but I was trying not to let it end, in spite of how badly I wanted it all to come to a head.

He put his lips to my neck, nibbling down on a sensitive part of my skin, and I couldn't hold on anymore. I cried out, feeling my body buck and writhe against him, feeling him come undo several moments later, the whine against my neck was perfect and erotic. His knees gave out and he had to grab the table or he would have collapsed to the floor, likely bringing me down with him.

"I love you," I sighed, laying back on the table, trying to catch my breath. "I love you so much."

He laughed weakly and said, "You know, you should say that more often, I might start to forget."

I couldn't find the strength to sit up, so I twitched my foot to kick his side gently, and he laughed. We stayed there, catching our breath and recovering for several long minutes before I managed to sit up and he could stand on his own power. He sat in the nearest chair then, pulling me onto his lap, kissing my collarbone.

"Everything's going to be okay, isn't it?" I said softly, running my fingers through his sweat-soaked hair.

His body tensed beneath me, and I felt a bit nervous, waiting for him to say something, anything to make me feel that something good was coming. I felt a bit uncomfortable waiting for him to tell me everything was going to be alright.

Finally, he said, "If I have to I will do everything to make everything okay."

I didn't want him to say that, because I wanted something that didn't sound like he was planning to sacrifice himself to make sure everything was fine. And I didn't want to think of a world without Sirius Black, a world where I was alone.

After a moment of silence I wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing his temple. His fingers traced up my thigh and he whispered, "The girls are going to wake, aren't they? Every time I get a beautiful moment with you, they wake up, don't they?"

I laughed softly and kissed his forehead.

"They wouldn't dare," I teased. "They know how important Valentine's Day is."

"Do they now?"

"It's innate in every little girl. Besides, it's been too long since you've touched me like that. If they love me at all, they'll stay asleep."

His chuckle was warm and happy. For a brief moment I could close my eyes, with my arms around him, feeling his smooth skin and telling myself that the scars weren't there, that everything was fine and we were just young, in love, and flawless. I could so easily recall moving into his place, the very first time he took me in our bed, and how full of excitement and life we were then. I didn't feel afraid all the time, and he still smiled most of the time. I didn't want him to think of me as someone he had to lie to, to hide from, but at the same time I didn't want to hear that things were only going to get worst.

A/N: New Feature: Review Prompt: Hey thur, anyone still reading? ;) If you had a Valentine's Day with Sirius Black, what would you desire/expect?

-C