Goodbyes On The Balcony

by ByeByeBirdie

3 years after Hogwarts, James and Lily are back with old and new friends by their side. Their lives are motivated by fear, their world surrounded by immense danger. As they each fight for their lives and for their loved ones in a world centered around Voldemort, the struggle to survive the war against him is nothing compared to the struggle to survive the wars within themselves.

14. Of Kumbaya, Vodka, & Liaisons

A/N: Sorry to confuse anyone but I'm just reposting this chapter due to some grammar I noticed when rereading it today. I will be posting chapter 15 tonight SO STAY TUNED!

Alright so I know I said I would update sooner rather than later. And then I had to go home unexpectedly for two weeks so that kinda got thrown out the window. I am almost done editing the next chapter so I should be able to upload that chapter within the next couple of weeks (barring any other unexpected trips home...). This chapter isn't long by any means but a WHOLE lot of information is provided! Seriously, jam-packed with info. So much that you should probably just stop reading this and move on to the chapter.

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling how I love thee and your HP world. Too bad I own nothing from it.

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Goodbyes on the Balcony

By ByeByeBirdie

Chapter 14: Of Kumbaya, Vodka, & Liaisons

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++SYDNY++

James walked into our cubicle surprisingly early, his coffee attached to his right hand.

"How was moving?" I asked politely. I've been attempting to get on James' good side after being so vague with him over the weekend.

He didn't respond, turning his back on me.

I hesitated. "Potter?"

"Why is it that you're always here before I am?" he grunted. "Even when I get up an hour earlier than usual?"

I neglected to tell him that I was somewhat of an insomniac and was often in the office before 6:00 in the morning. "I'm an early riser," I said instead.

"Whatever."

Okay, he was clearly in a foul mood. "You alright?"

"Just peachy."

Sarcasm dripped from his words. "Er…okay," I murmured. "Can you hand me that file on the Lestranges?"

"What, don't have their entire background memorized?" he snorted. "Since you seem to know Death Eaters so well."

I hesitated, not sure I liked the implication. My brow furrowed. "What?"

"Just forget it," he snapped.

Confusion filled my mind. I repeated my earlier question. "Seriously, Potter, are you okay?"

I sensed tension in his every move. "Like you care."

Ouch. "Okay, what is with you?" I muttered. "Must you be so cynical so early in the morning?"

"Oh, sorry if I'm not being Mr. Nice Guy right now but I had one hell of a night," he retaliated, whirling around in his chair.

I hesitated. "What happened to Moving Day?"

"The move went fine," he snapped, glaring at me. "It's what happened after I'm not so thrilled about. And don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking."

I stared at him blankly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You? The woman who seems to know everything about my family before even I do?" he scoffed, his glare intensifying by the second. "I highly doubt that."

"You mind informing me what the hell you're rambling about?" I snapped.

He glared at me, heated rage bulging from his eyes. "Do you enjoy keeping secrets, Lafevre? Do you enjoy torturing me with your lies and suspicions? Do you sit in bed every night to come up with ways to positively torment me with your secretive past and even more secretive present?"

Alright, I did not appreciate being attacked whatsoever. "What the hell is your problem? You might want to start making sense if you expect some answers from me!"

"HAH!" he scoffed, amusement dancing in his eyes. "I've learned not to expect a single damned thing from you, Lafevre."

"Yeah, you're making that pretty bloody clear!" I snapped.

"Don't turn this around on me!" he growled.

"I'm not turning around on you!" I cried out, throwing my hands in the air. "Mostly because I have no idea what the hell you're talking about!"

"I'm talking about the fact that you seem to know everything that's going on with my own damned family but refuse to tell me why! You seem to be right smack in the middle of my bloody family drama and I can't figure out how you play into that!" His voice reverberated off the walls.

"I don't know anything about your family drama!" I shouted. "Nor do I particularly want to!"

He let out a loud laugh, filled with cynicism and scorn. "How about the fact that you showed up at the scene of my sister's kidnapping without so much as a reasonable explanation? Or how about the fact that you somehow know my brother, Wyatt?" he barked. "Did you also know that he showed up on my doorstep last night!?"

My whole body froze in shock but before I could even attempt to comment, Moody showed up out of nowhere. "Both of you in Conference Room B now," he growled, whirling around and heading in that direction.

I glanced briefly over at James, but he was already swiftly following Moody. I remained frozen on the spot before my legs subconsciously took me to where they needed to.

I plopped into an empty seat, my eyes fixed on James the entire time. I couldn't imagine what was going through his head if Wyatt had showed up on his doorstep the night before. I was unbelievably shocked, that's for sure. I was under the impression that it would take a long time for Wyatt to be able to escape.

"You mind telling me why you two thought it would be best to scream at each other at six-thirty in bloody morning?" Moody barked, his eyes blazing with frustration.

James merely shrugged, indifference displayed on his face. I was too busy staring at him to even acknowledge Moody.

He let out an irritated grunt. "You two are not acting like two of the best Aurors in this Department, you're acting like children," he cried out. "And I don't care what it is you two are rowing about and I don't care that you two can't seem to get along with each other and I don't care what it is you guys don't like about each other. All I care about is that this feud is going to stop right now. I refuse to work with children. If you can't actually get along, I at least expect you two to act like you can."

I finally glanced up at Moody, feeling slightly ashamed. I was more mature than the person I've been acting around James. I have no idea what it is about him that got to me, but I needed to let him stop getting to me. I was better than that.

Moody's next words made me groan. "Now, don't come out of this conference room until you two work it out."

Great. We'd be stuck there for weeks. Years even. I glanced up at him and noted the strain of grief in his eyes. "Wyatt really returned last night?" I blurted out.

He shot me a look. "Eight years may have gone by but I know what my brother looks like."

"No, I know," I muttered, mostly to myself as I mused over the news. "I'm just…surprised. Regulus was under the impression that it would take a while until Wyatt would be able to escape without suspicion."

His whole body froze, his mouth slowly dropping open. It looked as if he was going to say something but was finding it impossible. "Regulus?" he finally got out.

Oh, shit. "Potter, I-"

"As in Regulus Black?"

Oh, shit. "No?"

He glared at me. "Damnit, why do I always feel like there's more to every story I'm given?" he murmured inwardly. He stole a glance my way, clearly needing to ask me something but far too afraid to. Eventually, he cleared his throat and turned to face me. "I'm going to ask you this once," he said, his words shaky and wary. "And I just want a yes or no answer."

I could only nod.

"Was Wyatt a Death Eater?"

I stiffened, my eyes growing wide in fear. "No. Er…well, kinda," I said hesitantly. "Partly yes but mostly no. At least not like you think. He was-"

"I believe I asked for a yes or no answer!" he barked.

I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling very small. And it took a lot for me to feel small. "It's not that simple."

"Make it that simple."

On one hand, I wanted to blurt out my whole life story. I wanted to tell him all the secrets that I have kept inside thus far. I wanted to make him feel less lost and confused. But on the other hand, I knew I thought about the consequences of telling him everything I knew. He'd no longer just be James. He'd be James with a history of burden suddenly put on his shoulders. And he didn't deserve it. He deserved to live his life. Not fear it.

So I told him the only thing he'd already figured out, keeping the rest of the story at bay. "Wyatt had been receiving letters for two years from a Tom inviting-"

"Him to join the Dark Lord?"

I glanced up at him in surprise. "Uh…yeah," I said slowly.

"And he said yes."

"No," I quickly argued, shaking my head. "Merlin, no. He said no a hundred times over."

He stared at me in confusion. "I'm not stupid. I can put two and two together. You're sitting here telling me that Regulus told you he couldn't escape. Well, who the hell did Regulus work for?" he snorted, glaring at me. "I know that Wyatt worked for Voldemort."

"That's where you're wrong," I was quick to contest. "It…it wasn't Voldemort he worked for."

He sighed. "Then who the hell did he work for?"

I paused, my eyes migrating towards the shut door. "How much did Wyatt tell you?"

"He wouldn't tell me anything," he said impatiently, shaking his head. "Which is why I'm asking you. I know there's a connection between you guys that neither of you seem to want to relay to me. But I'm so sick and tired of being right smack in the middle of all these lies and this deception. I deserve the truth, don't I?"

"You also deserve to live your life," I retaliated almost immediately.

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means there's a reason all of these secrets have been kept from you," I admitted. "There's a reason people are deceiving you, myself included. Wyatt included."

"This is my life we're talking about here!" he cried out. "These are my friends' lives and my family's lives we're talking about. I don't care if you're all convinced I'm better off in the dark because damnit, I want to know!"

"Haven't you ever been told you can't get everything you want?" I said desperately, the cliché response out of my mouth before I could stop it.

He frowned, running his fingers through his hair like he so often did when he felt stressed and overwhelmed. I may have only known the guy a few weeks, but that's a telltale sign he was on the verge of a breakdown and desperately trying to stop it. "Do you honestly think that any of this is what I want?" he spoke in a deep, regretful tone. "You think I wanted to be estranged from my brother for eight years? You think I wanted to mourn the loss of my older brother and my younger brother? You think I enjoyed watching my father walk out on us? You think I wanted Wyatt to return unexpectedly without so much as a goddamned answer? Do you honestly think I want to live in a world where people are dying every bloody day and Death Eaters are roaming around as if they own us?"

"James-"

"I didn't want any of this," he snapped, his voice on the verge of hysterics. "But welcome to my life. This is my life. Not yours, not Wyatt's, not Voldemort's. Mine. And if you have some sort of information regarding it, I don't think I'm in the wrong to ask you to give it to me."

I frowned hesitantly, wishing I could truly understand what he was thinking or feeling. Maybe a strong part of me did but the panicked look on his face told me was far more overwhelmed than even I could possibly imagine.

"Lafevre," he said softly, and I jearked my head up to face him guiltily. He met my gaze slowly. "I'm sitting here begging you for answers. And I'm not one to beg. Please, just talk to me."

I hesitated, recognizing his vulnerability for only the second time since I've met him. The first was when I saw him sitting by Lily's bedside. "James," I said softly, his first name sounding foreign on my lips. "I want you to know that all the questions in your head about me and…and Wyatt and Regulus and everyone and everything else you're wondering about are all legitimate. But, and I'm not saying this to be mean or aggravating or confusing or heartless, you are better off not knowing. You have to know that I truly believe that. Me keeping secrets or Wyatt keeping secrets isn't about us. It's about you. Protecting you. Saving you from any more danger. And I'm sorry if I showed up and turned your world upside down. I'm sorry if Wyatt showing up out of the blue last night made you feel lost and confused. I'm sorry that your sister and brother-in-law nearly died and you're no closer to finding out why than you were Saturday afternoon. I'm sorry if you feel like horrible tragedies keep happening to you and I'm sorry if you feel like your world is falling apart," I said regretfully, an unexpected rush of grief for the future that lay ahead of James overwhelming me. "But the moment I give you the answers to all your questions, your world will fall apart. And I don't know if I can do that. I don't know if I can be the one to cause more pain to you than you've already had to deal with. It's not fair to you."

He stared at me in surprise, probably not expecting a huge speech from me. Then again, I hadn't been expecting it either. "I've learned that my life will always be unfair," he said softly. "I've stopped hoping and wishing and praying that things will turn around for me. I know that will never happen. The only thing I can wish for now is answers."

"I don't know if I'm the right person to give you those answers."

"No one else will, Sydny," he pleaded, desperation seeping from his words. I was thrown by the use of my first name. I had been so used to his amusing nicknames. He locked eyes with mine and I found it impossible to turn away. "Please. I need to know."

Maybe I was being selfish or just feeling guilty, but the pleading, concerned look on his face made me unable to talk more about the tragedies of his past and his present. Even his future. Somehow, James has turned me soft. "I'm not the best person to give you what you're looking for," I said slowly, biting down on the inside of my lip.

Rage shown in his eyes. "Damnit, Lafevre, I hate you for-"

"Let me finish," I interrupted, shooting him a cool glare. "I don't think I should give you all the answers," I said irritably. "But I can get you in touch with the person who can."

He pursed his lips hesitantly, his eyes narrowing out of curiosity. "And who's that?"

"Wyatt."

His eyes clouded with scorn. "I don't want to talk to him."

"I know he's wronged you and your family," I said softly. "And I know he hasn't been there for you when you needed him over the past eight years. And I realize that he's hurt you in ways nobody should be hurt. But-"

"There's no but," he retaliated, glaring at me. "He left. He walked out on his family. Without an explanation or a good-bye. And I am sick and tired of everyone in my life thinking they can get away with that!"

I hesitated, slowly meeting his gaze. There was rage and frustration staring back at me. But mostly there was grief. "Who else left?"

He stiffened, his eyes widening with guilt. I knew then that these feelings of heartbreak and the inability to forgive were not just harbored toward Wyatt. There seemed to be unsettled wounds that were fighting to bleed out. And Wyatt showing up was just the beginning. "This is about Wyatt."

"No, apparently this is about more than just Wyatt," I said curiously. I'd definitely have to look into this. "This is about people in general leaving. Not just Wyatt, am I right?"

"Don't pretend like you know me or that you can read me. I'm not your puppet and I refuse to play by your games," he snapped, glaring at me. I could tell he was trying his best to keep his cool. His fists were clenched and he continued to take short, frustrated breaths. "I don't know what in bloody hell Moody expects from us, but there's not a chance in hell that I will ever get along with you."

"Hm, seems that I've hit a nerve."

"Go to hell, Lafevre!" he scowled, slamming his palms against the table and jumping up from his chair. He strode over to the door, ready to get the hell away from me.

"James, wait," I said softly.

He whirled around, his glare filled with loathing and fear. "You don't know what it's like, Lafevre," he barked. "To lose the people you love. To lose so much of what has made you the person you are. To…to lose everything you've ever known. And as a result…" he trailed off, letting the words catch in his throat.

"Lose yourself?" I whispered all-too-knowingly.

He met my gaze in surprise. "Look," he said coolly, "Moody was right about one thing. We need to at least act like we can get along."

"Okay…" I said cautiously. "Is this just your way of avoiding the topic of conversation?"

"Yes," he said, cracking a forced smile. "So please go along with it."

I sighed. "Can I at least say one thing?"

"No."

I shot him a look.

"But I have a feeling you're going to tell me anyway." He slowly fell into his seat again.

"You know me well," I snorted, suppressing the urge to roll my eyes. "I know you have no desire to speak to Wyatt and frankly, I don't blame you. But he's in danger. And he will have to go into hiding just to keep himself alive. So if you want all of these answers you so desperately seek, you need to act now. He's the one person who can help you. So as much as it might pain you to realize, you need him."

"Don't waste your time reaching out to him. I'm not going to see him."

I was getting increasingly frustrated with James. Did he not realize that he wasn't the only one feeling lost and alone in the world? That he wasn't the only one who didn't feel in control of his own life? That he couldn't control the lives of those around him? There have been hundreds of people who unfortunately died at the hands of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. And there have been hundreds of families and friends affected because of it. "You might be the most stubborn person I've ever met," I murmured irritably.

"I'm allowed to be stubborn after the shit he's put us through," he growled.

"Maybe he had a good reason."

"There is no good reason for someone just walking away without a goodbye or an explanation! My family deserved better than that, Lafevre. I deserve better than that."

"Do you enjoy living your life in self-pity, Potter?" I snorted.

He was clearly taken aback by the harsh reality of my words. He stared at me, his eyes softening with regret. "You don't understand," he eventually said hollowly.

"Why is it so hard for you to believe that maybe I do understand?" I cried out, throwing my hands up in the air. "Maybe I do know what it's like to live your life in self-pity. To wonder why tragedy had to strike you. To cry yourself to sleep at night hoping that one day everything you're fighting for will be worth it. Maybe I do know what it's like to lose the people closest to you. And as a result, lose yourself. To wonder if you'll ever go back to being the person you used to be. The happy, carefree person who didn't live their life in constant worry. Maybe I do know what it's like to not feel in control of your own damned future or your own damned destiny. To sometimes feel like you're standing in the middle of a crowded room screaming at the top of your lungs and no one is even acknowledging your presence. Maybe I do know what it's like to constantly feel as if no one will ever understand you! As if no one will know the pain and heartbreak you've endured."

My frustration was quickly seeping into remorse and I tried hard to keep the façade of stability going. But I could feel myself breaking, thoughts of my family swarming through my head. I pushed the memories of them away quickly, refusing to go back to that dark place of my life.

I turned back to face him, not surprised by the confused shock on his face. "Maybe I do know what it feels like to never believe in forgiveness, Potter. That forgiveness just shows weakness and vulnerability. Maybe I know what it's like to have so much pent-up anger and frustration building up inside of you that you can't possibly get rid of no matter how much you try. Anger and frustration towards those who have harmed you. Anger and frustration towards those who don't understand. Anger and frustration towards every little comment sent your way that you find ridiculous. Anger and frustration towards yourself for being so damned angry and frustrated! For being so bloody blind-sided by anger and frustration you can't even begin to appreciate the good things in your life. Maybe I do know what it feels like to…to believe that those good things won't last long. Because what else has?" My thumb instinctively reached for the band of the ring that resided on my right hand's ring finger. A ring that had been given to me by my mother. "Maybe I do know what it feels like to have your heart ripped from your chest and stomped on a hundred times over. To wonder why you bothered trying to do any good in a world filled with so much bad. To wonder if you're even making a difference anymore as an Auror. Maybe I know what it feels like to believe that no matter what you do to try and protect the wizarding world, people are still going to die. And a part of you will always blame yourself. Maybe, just maybe, James Potter, you're not the only one who has to deal with tragedy! Maybe, just maybe, there are other people in this world who are just as lost and angry and confused and hurting as you are!"

Anger coursed through my veins as I instinctively rushed out of my chair towards the door. I had absolutely no desire to sit in a room with Potter anymore. If he wanted to be selfish and wallow in self-pity, he could go right ahead. But I, for one, was not going to sit and watch him self-destruct. I already witnessed myself going down that road and that was painful enough. I couldn't watch someone else do it, too. I knew what it felt like to hit rock-bottom. But what James didn't realize is that he wasn't there yet. He still had a long way to go to hit rock-bottom.

"Lafevre, wait."

I don't know why I did it, but my hand stopped on the doorknob. "What?"

"How…how is it possible you know exactly how I'm feeling?"

Hm, interesting. Admitting weakness. That was very unlike James. Then again, it was very unlike me as well and I sorta just revealed way too much about myself. I chose to avoid the question. "Look, Potter," I murmured, my eyes remaining stoic on the door in front of me so as to avoid eye contact with him, "If you want to continue wallowing in self-pity because you don't have the answers that you're looking for, then I can't stop you. But if you want to get up off your sorry ass and actually get those answers that you clearly desire, then you can meet your brother at the Dragonfly Pub tonight at seven o'clock."

Silence filled the room and I slowly turned around to face him. He was staring at me, uncertainty in his eyes. "What if I don't like the answers Wyatt gives me?"

I frowned. "You want the truth?"

"Please."

"You probably won't," I blurted out, wincing guiltily. "But if you really want the answers to all of the questions in your mind, what other option is there but to listen to your brother?"

He didn't look like he had wanted to hear that response, but he should probably start getting used to it. "You really think Wyatt has all the answers?"

No. Dumbledore had all the answers. Moody had all the answers. But it all started back with Wyatt. And he was the only one who might actually be willing to tell James everything. "Just meet with him," I pleaded.

He sighed, rubbing his temples. "I'll think about it."

Well, it was better than a resounding 'no.'

"Now, I think there is one question that only you will have the answer to," he continue, his eyes focusing in on me.

"Hm?"

"What the hell happened to you in the past to make you feel lost and alone and confused and angry?"

I froze, trying hard not to show any panic on my face. "I never said anything about me feeling that way." Like he was going to believe that.

He rolled his eyes. "I read between the lines."

He read correctly. I tensed up slowly. "Don't go analyzing things you know nothing about."

"I'm not analyzing," he argued quickly. "I'm merely asking my partner a question."

"And I'm merely ignoring said question," I said, flashing him a smirk.

He rolled his eyes. He did that all too often. "Look, it's clear that we don't particularly like each other or even trust each other. I just think a little information about our backgrounds may actually do us some good."

No way was I telling him, or anyone, anything about my past. "Moody didn't say anything about holding hands, singing Kumbaya, and crying as we bonded over our pasts. He merely needs us to get along."

"Believe me, if I attempted to sing Kumbaya, we would only be bonding over the loss of our eardrums."

I attempted not to be amused, but the end of my mouths turned upwards. While Potter could really get on my nerves, he also knew how to lighten up a situation when needed. I found myself chuckling. "You're a piece of work sometimes, Potter."

He glanced up at me and I was shocked to see a light smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. "You're a piece of work all the time, Lafevre."

He laughed and I laughed, too. I was surprised to realize that that was the first time that we had shared a laugh together since I started with the British Auror Department. I had meant what I said—he was a piece of work. He was stubborn, he was arrogant, he didn't like to be challenged, he was controlling, he was full of so much rage, etc. The list goes on. But as I shared that laugh with him, I realized he reminded me of someone I used to know eight years earlier: myself.

"Lafevre?"

I shook my head of my past. "Hm?"

He hesitated, biting down on his bottom lip nervously. Which was unusual because James Potter didn't show nerves often. "I'm sorry for whatever happened to you in the past that made you feel lost and confused and hurt. And I'm sorry that you have to deal with those emotions again by watching me deal with those same emotions. That can't be easy. So I'm sorry."

My mouth dropped open slightly in awe. I wasn't expecting the macho James Potter to actually admit defeat, show sympathy, and inevitably apologize for something he didn't even have any control over. "Er…it's not your fault," I said lamely for lack of anything better to say.

He shrugged. "Maybe not whatever happened in the past but what's happening now is my fault. And what sucks about that is there's nothing I can do about it."

"Yeah, because it isn't your fault," I reassured. "So stop blaming yourself. Self-pity doesn't become you."

He frowned. "This isn't about me. It's about you. I-"

"No," I argued quickly, shaking my head. "It's about us. And what Moody said. We need to get along, Potter. So can we at least try?"

A smile crept on to his lips. "Maybe if you stop being such a bitch."

"Only if you stop being such a prick!"

He hesitated. "Hm, guess we're never getting along then."

I couldn't help but chuckle as I met his amused gaze. Suddenly, he was laughing too. Before I knew it, we were laughing together. And it felt good. We were never going to be best friends, that was for sure. But maybe we could at least attempt to realize that we were both fighting for the same thing: justice. And for that reason alone, I could never hate the guy.

In all honesty, I felt so sorry for the guy that hatred could never be at the forefront. I hated feeling sorry for him because pity wasn't going to change anything. Believe me, I knew. But it was really difficult watching someone head down a path of self-destruction. And it was even more difficult knowing there was nothing that I could do about it.

He couldn't be saved like I had been saved. Or like Wyatt had been saved. Dumbledore already admitted that there was very little he could do to help James which is why he needed me here to keep an eye on him and the situation. But I felt like I was failing. I tried to help as much as I could, and I was grateful that I got to Dezzy and Drew in time, but that just left a whole bunch of unanswered questions in James' mind. And I know that I was being somewhat cowardly by not just manning up and telling him what was going on in his life. But, and this was a huge but, I've only met Wyatt twice and that was eight years ago. I had, and have, no idea why he decided to leave his family behind for a dangerous mission handed to him by Dumbledore.

I obviously knew the reason that I accepted Dumbledore's undertaking. It was my only option. I didn't have anyone or anything left to leave behind except those horrible pitying looks and the whispers behind my back and the judgments people made about me. And believe me, that was easy to leave behind. But I couldn't for the life of my figure out why someone would abandon their family willingly. Especially knowing what the mission was. Wyatt couldn't turn back time. He had abandoned his family and just because he was finally trying to escape Voldemort's hands didn't mean he could get that family back. He's probably lost them forever.

I just hoped that before that happened, he could at least give James some peace of mind. Because as much as I thought James was better off in the dark, it was time he was told the truth. And I couldn't think of a better person to do so than the long-lost brother who helped start this whole mess in the first place.

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++JAMES++

I hated that I was standing outside the Dragonfly Pub. I had weighed my options all day. Did I want to see Wyatt again after all the pain he's caused me and my family? Did I want to give Sydny the satisfaction of knowing that I had indeed caved and went to see Wyatt? Did I even really want the answers to the millions of questions building up inside my head?

I don't know about the first two, but sadly the answer to the last question was yes. I was tired of speculating and guessing and wondering. I was ready to just know. To know why Wyatt had left. To know how he and Sydny knew each other. To know why Sydny was sent to England. To know how Sydny knew Dumbledore. To know how Dumbledore was involved. To know why Voldemort was going after the people I loved. To know what Wyatt has been up to for the past eight years.

My eyes zoomed in on the back of Wyatt's head. He was sitting at the bar, gripping his beer a little too tightly and tapping his foot anxiously against the bar.

I slowly walked up behind him, my heart beating out of his chest. "Vodka soda," I said to the bartender. "Hold the soda."

The bartender quirked an eyebrow. "So you just want a shot of vodka," he said dryly.

I rolled my eyes. "Fine, you can put the soda in it. But keep it on the lighter side."

The bartender smirked and walked away. Wyatt glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. "Didn't take you for a heavy drinker."

I hesitated. "Of course you didn't," I said pointedly. "You haven't been around to see me drink."

He frowned, turning away from me. "Right."

I sighed, sliding into the bar stood beside him. "Besides," I murmured, "It's been a rough couple of days. I think I'm allowed some hard liquor in my system."

He nodded. "Sure."

Silence overcame us. An awkward silence. I had no idea where to even begin and I had a feeling Wyatt was thinking the same. The bartender handed me my drink and it took everything within me not to just chug it all right then and there.

"I didn't think you'd come," Wyatt eventually spoke.

"I didn't think I'd come either," I admitted with a sigh. I glanced over at Wyatt, waiting until he turned to meet my gaze before adding, "But I need answers, Wyatt. And I'm hoping you'll give them to me."

He stiffened, finishing off the last sips of his beer. He gestured to the bartender to get him another. "Yeah, Sydny mentioned that you'd only stick around if I answered your questions. And I'm going to reiterate again, James, that trust me when I say, you're better off not knowing."

"Well, how about we start there," I scowled, ignoring his latter comment. "How the hell do you know Sydny?"

"I don't," he murmured. "Not well, at least. I've only met her twice really. And that was eight years ago. She's just…a liaison, I guess."

"Liaison?"

"Yeah," he muttered, shifting his weight on the bar stool uncomfortably. "A go-between."

"A go-between for who?"

He hesitated, thanking the bartender as he handed him another beer. "Well, myself, for one and…"

"And?"

"Maybe I should start at the beginning."

I rolled my eyes. "So far, your answers suck."

He nodded. "I know," he admitted with a sigh. "I just…I've never had to tell this story. I've only ever lived it. And I have a feeling that you're going to hate me after I do tell it to you so I'm sorry for not wanting to rush into it."

"Why should you care?" I muttered, not meaning it to sound mean. "As you pointed out so eloquently yesterday, you didn't come back to see me. So why should you even care if I choose to hate you?"

His eyes focused in heavily on the beer bottle in his hand, his jaw trembling slightly. "It's pretty clear you already hate me," he said softly. "And I don't blame you. But just because I didn't come back to see you doesn't mean I didn't want to come back to see you. For the past eight years, I've thought of nothing more than you and Dezzy and Brite and Grant and Jaron and Mom and Dad. I wish that I didn't leave the way that I did. I wish things would have ended differently. I wish that Voldemort would just leave our family the hell alone. But I can't change what I've done and I can't change Voldemort's mind about the Potters. Do I regret what I did? Perhaps. But I thought I was doing it to save you. And the rest of my family. Turns out, I was wrong. And for that, I'll never forgive myself."

"You thought you were doing what to save us?" I asked cautiously.

He took a deep breath in, taking a long swig of his beer, before turning to face me. "When I was about fifteen, I started receiving letters from-"

"Someone named Tom asking you to join the Dark Side?" I said hastily. I had heard this part of the story before. I wanted to hear the parts I've yet to be told.

He nodded. "Yeah. I ignored them for the most part. Stopped even reading them after a while."

My heart started beating faster. I had a pretty good feeling that he was about to tell me that somewhere down the line, he did join the Dark Side. And I couldn't for the life of me figure out how that would help him save his family.

"But a week before I was to graduate Hogwarts, I…I was summoned to Dumbledore's office."

Well, that threw me for a loop. "Dumbledore?"

He nodded. "Look, James, I'm not proud of what I did. I'm not even entirely proud of the reasons I did what I did. Because while a good portion of my reasoning was to save my family, the other portion was completely selfish."

"What did you do, Wyatt?" I demanded.

He pursed his lips, an awkward silence filling the air.

"Wyatt?"

"I joined Voldemort's army."

I was expecting him to say that but it still felt like someone knocked the wind out of me hearing the truth. I asked the only question I could form. "Why?"

"Dumbledore informed me that Tom had been writing Brite, too. And he, too, had been ignoring the letters. Well, the letters turned threatening for him. Tom was talking about coming after his family, his girlfriend, his friends. That Potter blood belonged with the Dark Arts and with Voldemort and he was starting with the eldest. That the Potters were too strong and powerful not to be on his side. And if he didn't choose the Dark Side, he wouldn't get to live at all. Needless to say, Brite was scared. He-"

"Brite talked to you about all this?" I asked, surprised.

"No," he murmured. "He…uh…he talked to his superior in the Auror Office."

My heart skipped a beat. "Who?"

Wyatt looked at me. Really looked at me. And I had a feeling he was about to tell me something I wasn't so sure I wanted to know. "Mad-Eye Moody."

I cursed under my breath. I knew he was in on this. "Is everyone in on this conspiracy theory but me?"

"It's not a conspiracy theory," he pleaded, shaking his head. "It's just…"

"Life?" The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

He stiffened but eventually nodded. "Yeah."

I took another large gulp of my vodka soda. "Tell me more."

"Moody was the one who confided in Dumbledore. They've been working together since the very beginning. Since Voldemort started gaining power. And…and Dumbledore needed my help."

"How?"

He didn't even skip a beat. "He needed a Potter to join the Dark Side."

"Why didn't Brite do it?"

"He was already an Auror. And he had a girlfriend he wanted to marry. He had a life already made for him. He-"

"So, what? Just because you had less than Brite to leave behind it was alright for you to turn your back on your family, your friends, your girlfriend? To walk away from us all without so much as a goddamned good-bye?"

"I never said it was alright," he argued pleadingly. "But it was the only thing I could do."

"Because Brite was being threatened?"

"No, don't you get it, James? We were all being threatened! Voldemort was just starting with Brite. If I didn't join, he was going to go after you. Then Dezzy and Grant and Jaron. He was out for blood," he argued, glaring subtly at me. "He wanted all of us. Whether he wanted us for his army or he wanted us dead, I didn't know. I still don't know. But Dumbledore told me that he needed someone who was willing to work both sides. And he thought I was a good candidate."

I was seething inside at Dumbledore. How dare he upset my entire family? He knew this entire time where Wyatt was and he never once gave me insight. I was pissed. "And you thought because Dumbledore asked you, you had no other choice?"

He shook his head. "No. This wasn't about Dumbledore. It was about me. I…I think Dumbledore asked me because he knew I'd say yes. Not just because I would protect my family, but because… " he trailed off, the words caught in his throat.

"Because why?" I asked, clinking the ice in my glass impatiently.

Wyatt turned to me, a frown etched on his face. "Because of Dad."

He said it so bluntly it was as if I should have known what that meant. "What?"

He swallowed hard, his gaze returning to the bottle of beer in his hand. "Dad wanted me to be an Auror. There was no other option for me in his eyes. And-"

"You were going to be Auror," I reminded him, thinking back to eight years earlier when Wyatt had received his acceptance letter. "Weren't you?"

He hesitated, slowly shaking his head. "No," he murmured. "I only applied because Dad pressured me into it. But being an Auror was never my passion. I wanted to take time off, travel the world. I wanted to…to get away."

"Joining Voldemort's army was the way to do that?" I responded sarcastically.

He shot me a look.

"Sorry," I muttered.

"When I told Dad I wasn't going to be an Auror, he blew up. He told me I was a disgrace to the family, that I was a coward, too scared to follow in his footsteps and in Brite's footsteps, that he would never be proud of me the way he was proud of Brite. To him, being an Auror was the only thing a Potter could do. It was the only path. But to me? It was a death sentence."

Oh, the irony. "Oh, right, because joining Voldemort wasn't?"

He cringed. "James, ever since you were a kid, you wanted to be an Auror. Ever since I was a little kid? I just…wanted to stop living in the shadow of our perfect older brother."

"Don't smear Brite's name," I retaliated immediately.

"I'm not," he argued. "It's not condescending. It's fact. Brite was good at everything he did. And I was jealous of that. Not because he was perfect but because Dad knew he was perfect. And Dad was always proud of him. Dad pushed Brite to be the person he was. Maybe a little too much. And he tried pushing me. But…but I didn't want to be pushed. And Dad couldn't seem to understand that."

"So, let me guess," I said, sorting it out in my head, "You taking Dumbledore's offer was more about you just wanting to make a name for yourself so that you can be proud of something than it was about protecting us?"

He shot me a look. "Maybe I did want to be proud of myself for once. Maybe I did want to show our father that I wasn't a coward. Maybe I did want to prove to him and to myself that I could be noble. But those were all just secondary reasons to the idea that my family was in danger and maybe I was the only one who had the opportunity to protect them. This wasn't all about Dumbledore or Dad. In the end it was about me."

Frustration built up inside of me. "No, it was about all of us," I interrupted, swirling the contents of glass around impatiently. "Because when you left, it didn't just affect you. It affected me. It affected our parents. It affected our brothers and Dezzy. It affected your girlfriend at the time, Emma! Do you remember her? Do you remember blowing her off?"

"Yes, I remember-"

"What you can't possibly remember is the fact that she dropped by Potter Manor numerous times that summer wondering if we had heard anything from you. She was heartbroken. We all were!"

"I know!" Wyatt shouted, ignoring the stares we were earning from the few patrons around us. "Dammit, James, I already know this. Do you really believe that I didn't know you'd all be heartbroken? And frustrated and sad and angry? I realized it then and I realize it now. But I did what I thought I had to do. I-"

"You left, Wyatt. And I don't care if you thought you were doing a noble thing. I don't care that you thought you were protecting us. Saving us from harm. I don't care that you were just trying to prove that you were a better man that you thought you were. I really don't care. What I care about is the fact that you turned your back on us without so much as an explanation. Maybe I'd care more if you even bothered to tell us what you were up to before you left. Would that have been so difficult? 'Hey, family, just thought I'd let you know that you're all in danger but it's okay because I'm going to put the weight of the world on my own shoulders so that you can all go on pretending to live normal, happy lives.' Well, I hate to break it to you, Wyatt, but we didn't live normal, happy lives. You didn't protect us. You didn't save us. Our family is still crumbling in front of our very eyes. So congratulations for leaving us all to fend for ourselves without even giving us a simple warning."

Wyatt's head hung in shame. He looked distraught, nearly ready to break out into tears. I almost felt bad. Almost. "James," he said softly, the name sounding desperate on his tongue, "I would have warned all of you if I thought it was the right thing to do. But I honestly felt as if giving myself up to Dumbledore and to…"

"Voldemort," I spat out.

He nodded. "That it was the only thing to do to protect all of you. So why would I inform you that you were in danger when I alone had the chance to rectify it? I didn't want to worry any of you. And I certainly didn't want any of you to know that…that I was giving myself up to the Dark Side." He sighed, gesturing towards the bartender to get him another beer. "Maybe I was being cowardly by not telling you. Maybe I was slightly ashamed. Maybe I was afraid of what you'd think. It doesn't matter why I didn't tell you. It just matters that I left, am I right?"

He was right. Truth be told, I didn't care too much about why he left the way he did. I was just tired of people taking off without saying good-bye. As if leaving a note was good enough. "Yeah," I sighed. "You're right."

"I didn't have anything lined up," he murmured, shaking his head in disbelief. "I knew that I wasn't going to be an Auror. I knew that. I just didn't know what else I wanted to do. And…"

"And Dumbledore gave you an opportunity to be someone important?" I suggested. Believe me, I knew what that felt like. It was easy feeling insignificant. It wasn't so easy feeling as if the weight of the world was on your shoulders. And because it wasn't so easy feeling that way, I knew how much Wyatt had probably wanted to change that.

Wyatt glanced at me, a faraway reproachful look gleaming in his eye. "I-I don't know. Maybe. Yeah, I guess," he admitted with a taut shrug. "I was given an opportunity to give Voldemort exactly what he wanted and get him off my family's back, or at least I thought, and at the same time pass information from the Dark Side to…" he stopped short.

"To Dumbledore?"

He hesitated, shaking his head. "No," he muttered. "That would have been too dangerous."

"So to who?"

He fixed his stare on me, a look of guilt passing over his face. "Sydny."

Ah, the liaison. I said that aloud.

He nodded. "I don't know her story. And honestly, I've only met her in person a few times. I mostly communicated with her via owls late at night when no one was around. And she never communicated back with me, knowing the danger it would present. I was by Voldemort's side nearly every hour of every day. I didn't stray far. And if I did, I was in the presence of Death Eaters. I think Voldemort always had a hunch I wasn't there willingly."

"Then why didn't he just kill you?" I snorted. "Considering he took so much pleasure in murdering Brite and JT, I assume he would have enjoyed torturing you to pieces as well."

Wyatt cringed. "James, you have to believe me when I say I didn't know anything about Brite or Jaron. I-I stopped reading newspapers. It was too depressing reading the aftermath of one of Voldemort's mass murders knowing I couldn't do much to stop it."

"But apparently Sydny could," I muttered.

"If I could be stealthy, if I could write a letter to Sydny warning her, I did. Whenever I could, I did."

I had so many questions. I didn't even know where to start. "How is it possible that you didn't know about Brite and JT when you were apparently in on all of the missions?"

"They kept them from me. I-I don't know why. Seems to me if they wanted to catch me as a double-agent, all they would have had to do with allude to the potential death of my family members. I would have been out of there in a heartbeat. But it's like…it's like Voldemort found some sick pleasure in knowing he was continuing to terrorize my family while I had no idea. It…it makes me sick knowing that I wasn't there for my family when they needed me most. I would have left a long time ago," he reiterated. "I was there attempting to protect my family. If I had found out that…that that wasn't the case, I wouldn't have stuck around even if it did compromise whatever end result Dumbledore and Moody would have wanted."

"So how did you hear about Dezzy and Drew?"

"I heard Rodolphus Lestrange bragging about it," he murmured. "About how he was going to abduct the Potter girl and her new hubby. Which is how I found out Dezzy was married, by the way," he added as a sidenote. "I went into panic mode. I knew that I couldn't leave at that moment without getting myself and probably Dezzy and Drew killed. And so I rushed to where I knew Regulus was hiding as Bellatrix and Voldemort started to put their plan in action. I told him to find Sydny Lafevre. She would know what to do. I couldn't give him much information as I didn't have much. I just told him to hurry."

"How did you know where Regulus was hiding?"

"Before he was caught in the States by Aurors, he had come to me. He felt as if he could trust me. So he told me that he wanted out. Hell, I wanted out, too, but I knew I had to stay. For my family, for Dumbledore, for Sydny. Until I found out about Dezzy and Drew. "

The questions just kept coming. "Why didn't you just warn Sydny yourself instead of going through Regulus? Or why didn't you just go after Dezzy and Drew yourself?"

"I was still under cover. I was still playing the role of sidekick," he murmured. "I couldn't escape without some sort of plan or I would have been tortured and killed on the spot. But while Bellatrix was with Voldemort, I was able to sneak away. I only had a small window of opportunity and I took it. I didn't know where to find Sydny and it would have taken me too long to find her and get back safely. I was a coward, I know. I should have just taken off immediately but I was scared. I needed to tie up loose ends first before fleeing. I-I knew Regulus would take care of everything that needed to be taken care of so I relied on him to find Sydny."

I frowned. It all just seemed way too complicated. "So why did you finally escape? Why now? You say you were trying to be careful, that you had loose ends to tie up. Was that all taken care of?"

He shrugged slowly. "I don't know," he admitted. "But after Dezzy and Drew were saved, Voldemort went on a rampage. He clearly wasn't thrilled and he was out for blood. He wanted people to pay for the mistakes Rodolphus and Bellatrix made. And it was obvious that that was going to be me, seeing as it should have been a Potter who was tortured. I-I had to get out immediately or I would have been dead," he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. "And…and even now, it's not over for me or for Regulus. You don't just leave Voldemort's army and get away with it. He's after us now. So…so I have to go into hiding. So does Regulus. He told me he had to finish up one last task and…and I do, too. But after that, our lives are going to drastically change."

"Your lives changed the moment you agreed to work for Voldemort," I pointed out, but it wasn't full of anger this time. It was full of remorse. As much as I wanted to be angry and frustrated at him, a part of me was a bit honored that he would give up his entire life to protect our family. Like I had mentioned to Dumbledore in the hospital, I would join Voldemort's army if it meant protecting those I love. And I couldn't help but wonder why Dumbledore was so adamant on rejecting that statement. He had let Wyatt join Voldemort's army to protect those he loved. So why not me?

"I know," he said softly. "And knowing what I know now, I'd probably take it all back. I-I don't know how much help I was to Dumbledore anyway. I was rarely let in on any mission plans. I was just there to serve Voldemort. Whenever he needed anything or anyone, it was my job to get it. I never even knew what his next step was until he made it. Pretty much the only information I could ever provide to Sydny were names of Death Eaters. And she kept an eye on them, followed their every move. Caught a whole bunch of them. Killed them if necessary."

"Slaughterhouse Syd," I muttered.

"What?"

I shook my head. But it's clear that Wyatt helped Sydny earn her nickname. "How does Sydny fit into all this?" I asked curiously. "Where did she come from?"

Wyatt shrugged weakly. "I don't know."

I froze, realizing who was in the middle of all of this. "Dumbledore chose her, didn't he." It wasn't a question.

He glanced at me. "Yeah. She's working for Dumbledore."

I sadly wasn't surprised. "But why?" I muttered. "Why was she chosen to be the liaison?"

Wyatt shrugged weakly. "Damned if I know. That's a question to ask her."

I snorted. "She's not keen on answering my questions."

"Yeah," he said with a nod. "She's quite a secretive gal."

"You can say that again."

"All I know is that she had already begun her Auror training when I started working under Voldemort. Not for very long. A few months, I think. But...well, we didn't exactly spend time going over our backgrounds. We had a mission at hand. And it wasn't to get to know each other."

I could only nod. I was getting more and more curious about Sydny's history.

"So why was she all-of-a-sudden moved to the British office?" I asked curiously. "Why not eight years ago? Why did she start in France?"

Wyatt paused, glancing down at his beer curiously. "I don't know the whole story there. I only know she started in France because…" he hesitated. "Well, because Brite was here in Britain. And Moody, too. They needed her to lay low, not draw any unnecessary attention to her or Voldemort might get suspicious. As to why they moved her to Britain recently, I-I'm not entirely sure."

I could tell he was holding something back but considering I was still trying to process everything he's already told me, I let it go. "Did Brite know why you left?" I dared to ask.

Wyatt hesitated, shrugging curtly. "I didn't tell him, if that's what you're wondering. But he's got to think the timing was suspicious. He talks to Moody about these letters and then a week later, I disappear? I always wondered if he had a hunch."

I simply nodded, thinking about everything that Wyatt had missed over the past eight years. The good, the bad. The family outings. The vacations. The fun we had. A world of memories he'll never be a part of. "You've missed out on so much," I blurted out.

His hand froze midway to his mouth with the beer bottle and he glanced my way. "I gave up a lot, James," he said softly. "I realize that. But…" He stopped short, turning away.

"But what?"

His eyes stared out in front of him, not in anything in particular, but because he was clearly thinking heavily about something. A grim frown formed on his face. "But I gave up my life hoping that my family could have a better one."

There was a deep sadness in his voice, his bottom lip trembling ever-so-slightly.

"Clearly it was a waste," he muttered, chugging some of his beer.

I didn't respond, merely gesturing to the bartender to get me another drink. He nodded my way and obliged. I didn't gaze over at Wyatt, letting him process his own thoughts and I tried to piece everything together in my head. In a way, I admired Wyatt for being able to leave so much behind without even a second thought. He was sent on a dangerous mission and now he'd live the rest of his life in fear. I didn't know if I could do that so I couldn't help but be a little proud of my older brother. Just like he wanted.

"He's still after all of us, y'know," I found myself saying aloud.

Wyatt turned to me. "Hm?"

"Dumbledore had told you that handing Voldemort a Potter might be the way to save our family. But it clearly wasn't good enough. He still wants all of us and he's not going to stop until every single person in our lives are dead and so are we."

Wyatt slowly frowned curiously. "Do you think he meant to kidnap Brite?"

That threw me for a loop. "What?"

He didn't respond immediately, sipping his beer thoughtfully. "He kidnapped Jaron. He attempted to kidnap Dezzy. And I think we all know that Voldemort's go-to move isn't kidnap, it's murder. So my question to you is, do you think he just meant to kidnap Brite?"

I frowned. The bartender put my drink in front of me and I sipped it slowly before responding, "Where are you going with this?"

"We can't ever know what Voldemort's plans are, but seems to me if he's just kidnapping, he's probably trying to give us the choice. Either join him or die."

I could feel my face grow white at the prospect of Jaron being tortured by Voldemort as an attempt to force him to join the Dark Side. I should have been proud that Jaron may have died nobly, refusing to spare his dignity and honor for what was ultimately his life. But it was hard feeling proud when my baby brother was dead.

"If you could go back and do it all again," I found myself daring to ask, "Which would you choose?"

Wyatt's hesitance was very evident. "I-I know that it seems none of it made any difference, but as a double-agent, I was able to save numerous lives by way of Sydny. Maybe not the ones that count for us, but they counted for someone out there."

I hated that that made sense. And I hated that I was sitting in an empty pub with a brother I barely knew anymore. I hated that everything had drastically changed from the moment Wyatt disappeared. I hated that this was what my life had become. But what I hated the most was that it appeared I couldn't do anything about it and apparently neither could Wyatt.

"James?"

I glanced over at him. "Yeah?"

"I know I said this yesterday and I know it means nothing to you, but I am sorry. For how everything turned out."

I hesitated, nodding slowly, "I know you are."

Silence followed. I didn't have any other questions. Well, I did, but they weren't for him. They were for Dumbledore. For Moody. And especially for Sydny.

"So are you going to try to see Mom or Dad?" I asked Wyatt. It was a legitimate question considering he had gone to Potter Manor looking for them.

He sighed, fingering the label on his beer warily. "I don't know," he eventually admitted. "Selfishly, I'd like to see them. I'd like to see everyone. But…it's probably best in the end if I didn't."

"How is that for the best?"

"I've already helped put a target on all of your backs. And hell, I'm pretty sure we all know that Voldemort is coming after me. Tracking down Mom and Dad could put them in more danger than I'm willing to risk."

"Yet you're okay with putting me in danger?" I said with a hint of a smile.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You wanted answers and I thought it was about time I gave them to you."

I met his gaze briefly before glancing hesitantly down at my glass. "And you don't think anyone else in our family deserves answers?"

He didn't respond, teetering on his chair pensively before finally sighing. "They absolutely do," he said softly. "But you've been the only one to ask. And if I could avoid admitting the faults I've made these past nine years, I'm alright going down like a coward."

I sighed. "That's not being a coward," I muttered. "It's being protective."

"You really think so?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "I'm beginning to wonder if being protective is just a front for fear of admitting the truth."

As I glanced over at him, I could see compassion staring back at me. "I'll drink to that," he murmured, raising his glass.

I wasn't so sure what we were drinking to but I tapped glasses with him anyway.

"So what are dear old Mom and Dad up to nowadays?" he dared to ask, the overwhelming curiosity resting in his eyes.

"Not much considering they're separated."

He blinked. "What?"

"They don't live together anymore. She's here, Dad's in Italy. He left Mom shortly after Brite died."

Silence. "That jackass."

"No," I was quick to argue. "He thought it was the only thing he could do to protect his family."

Silence again.

"Sounds like someone else I know."

He swore. "He thought leaving would protect you all?"

"Sounds like someone else I know," I repeated.

He winced.

I shrugged. "He blamed himself for you leaving. For pushing Brite into the Auror recruitment program. He didn't want to destroy our family any more than it already was. So he left."

"Hm."

"Hm?"

Wyatt glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. "I made a mistake by leaving. I just wonder if he thinks the same."

I didn't respond. I wasn't even going to try and understand the thought process that ran through my Dad's head. A part of me understood his reasoning for leaving. I hated him for it, but I understood it. So shouldn't it be the same for Wyatt? Shouldn't I at least try to understand?

"James?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you a question now?"

Considering he'd been gone for eight years, I could only imagine the swarm of questions in his head. Just like I had questions for him, he probably had a million questions for me. He was one person that I've missed for eight years. But for him, he had quite a few people who have lived lives he's missed out on. "Of course."

"Was that Lily Evans who answered the door yesterday?"

I was completely taken aback. Of all the questions I was expecting, that definitely wasn't one of them. "You haven't seen me in eight years and that's the question you want to start with?"

A hint of a smile appeared on his face. "Last time I checked, the girl hated your guts and you were still trying to convince yourself she was a bitch. Clearly, something has changed."

"Yeah, clearly," I said, a smile breaking out on my face. "We started dating in our seventh year. Still are four years later. And she just moved in with me."

He looked amused. "You're such a ladies man, Mr. Potter."

"No, just one lady," I corrected, suddenly feeling really guilty that I hadn't even told her I wouldn't be coming home at a reasonable hour tonight. But I didn't know how to tell her that I was meeting Wyatt. I didn't know how to tell her that I was in danger. That she was in danger. So I chose to keep quiet.

He smiled. A wry smile, one filled with nostalgia. "You're lucky, James. Hold on to her as long as you can."

I didn't respond. I didn't know how to. I wanted so desperately to hold on to Lily as long as I can but it was obvious Voldemort had other plans.

The rest of the conversation we shared was light-hearted, upbeat even. He asked about Dezzy and Grant and I told him what he wanted to hear. He eventually asked about Brite and JT and I attempted to tell him as much as I could. We talked about Mom, even Dad a tad, he brought up the Gilmores and I regretfully mentioned what occurred with Riley. I discussed Riley and Sirius, much to Wyatt's surprise, and brought up Lance's impending marriage to Kay. I talked about Remus and his unfortunate break-up with Jillian and I talked about Bianca, Brite's old fiancée.

It was easy talking to Wyatt. It was nearly midnight by the time we separated. And a large part of me didn't want it to end. I was scared. I was afraid that Wyatt would walk out the door to that pub and I wouldn't get to see him again. And while that's what I thought I wanted, I knew it wasn't. I enjoyed having him back. He was my brother. A brother who I haven't seen or talked to in eight years, but he was still my brother. And after all that I've been through, I needed a brother.

"Am I going to get to see you again?" I asked him as we headed out.

He paused, glancing my way. "I hope so, James. Maybe not anytime soon, but I'll make sure it happens."

"Promise?"

"You bet, little brother."

I smiled. "Be careful, big brother."

He clapped me on my back as we exited the bar. "I will."

That's the last time I ever saw my brother.

---

A/N: Well let's all just sit back and think about everything we've just read. Whoa. And it doesn't stop there. More to come in the next chapter!

Coming up: Late-night trip to Blarney's (are you surprised?), Keegan gossip, and a surprise visitor.