A/N: Hello! I know it's been a while - if you celebrate Easter, I hope you have a Happy Easter! If you don't celebrate it, I hope you've had a nice weekend and have a lovely week.

I hope you enjoy!

(And Happy Birthday James Potter!)

28TH JULY 1981

JAMES' P.O.V

POTTER'S COTTAGE

I wake up to the feel of the soft, warm glow of the sunrise – I must have forgotten to draw the curtains last night. I open my eyes, flailing for my wand beside me and flicking the curtains shut. I rub my eyes, ridding them of sleep and turn my head – Lily's blazing red hair is sprawled across the pillow and her limbs are tangled in the bed sheets, as per usual. Lily's never been a graceful sleeper. I grin, unable to stop myself. What better way to start the day than by looking at her? By the looks of it, she's still asleep. Her back is to me but I can see her shoulders rise rhythmically. I don't want to disturb her; I know how hard she finds it to sleep well these days.

Harry's cot is still and quiet, so I assume he's still asleep too. I shift in the bed, summoning the Daily Prophet from yesterday: more attacks, Millicent Bagnold's speech about bravery and resilience – her fifth speech since becoming Minister for Magic, Death Eater trials unsuccessful, Aurors missing, curfews, adverts, murders, thefts, Healers being overstretched, Death Eaters… It's never ending. I put the paper down resignedly. It's not like you could get any real news from the Prophet anyway, they can only report what the Ministry have fed them. No, if you want news that's useful and new, you have to get it yourself. I'll ask Dedalus later, he always seems to know information that's unavailable to most other people. Caradoc's always parroting some conjectured nonsense he probably heard in the Leaky Cauldron, but he likes to think he knows things and occasionally he does. I don't know if it's quite worth dancing the unnecessarily exerting dance that he'll have you do in order it get it though, Caradoc very much likes dragging out conversations longer than one would think humanly possible.

"Morning," Lily, her voice heavy with sleep, sits up on her elbows and looks at me, smiling.

"Morning," I reply, "it's not like you to be so cheerful at this hour."

Lily shrugs, "How can I not be cheerful when you're sleeping beside me?"

I lean down and brush her lips with my own. The gesture quickly becomes a kiss which soon transpires to something more passionate than one would think for so early in the morning.

"Remus is downstairs," Lily murmurs against my lips.

I lean in deeper, almost right on top of her.

"James," she sighs, as I trace her neck and then her collarbone with my lips, she soon stops protesting.

A few fervent moments later, Harry's waking up (something that's never quiet), interrupts us. I roll off of Lily, feeling slightly disappointed and go over to Harry who looks accusingly at me with an expression I've come to interpret as wanting breakfast. Lily comes beside me and lifts Harry out of his cot and cuddles him. I envelope them both in a hug and we make our way downstairs.

Moony's on the sofa, blankets neatly folded at one end and sitting reading some book on alchemy. Harry toddles over to him and clambers into his lap almost instantly. Lily laughs good-naturedly and goes to fetch some coffee and warm milk for Harry.

I crash next to Moony and he looks at me with what looks like a smile but has such a shadow on it that it looks more like a grimace.

"Rough night?"

"Not really," he says, watching Harry play with Lily's miniature abacus.

"Padfoot's still out."

"Yeah, he wrote."

"He did?" I ask, surprised.

"Here," Moony summons a letter and hands it to me.

Dear Lily, Harry and Moony if you're there,

I know Prongs is heading back tomorrow but I've decided to stay a little bit longer. Dumbledore and Dumbledore (they don't get on very well, you know) are calling in on some old friends so I thought I'd tag along. Benjy and Hestia are coming too, so don't worry.

All's well so far, hope you're all fine,

Padfoot

"He's writing?"

"Well, sort of," Moony says, "Harry wanted to send him a drawing and then he wrote back but I doubt he'll keep it up. You know what he's like."

"You never know," I say, hopeful, "he might."

"Hmm," Moony doesn't sound convinced, "how was your trip? I hardly saw you yesterday."

"Trip was good. Wet, cold, miserable… Padfoot found a family of rats – thought he'd introduce them to Wormtail. Fabian and Gideon are a right laugh though, especially after half a bottle of Firewhisky. What about you? The Portkey worked alright then?"

"Yeah, it was fine."

"Sure?"

"Yes, honestly, it's not the first time I've been alone for a transformation is it?"

"I know, I just worried –"

"Well I'm fine," he snaps waspishly, Harry looks up – apparently not entirely oblivious to this change in tone.

Lily walks in with coffee and settles between Moony and I. I look at him oddly but he doesn't meet my eye. I decide to let it go.

"Al's coming over today," she informs us.

"Again?" Moony asks.

"Yes, again. I haven't seen her in –"

"Twenty-four hours?" Moony jokes.

"No you twit," she swats at his arm with a pillow, "at least a few days."

"Oh how can you possibly cope?" Moony smirks at her sarcastically.

"You see what you left me with?" she demands, turning to me.

"I don't know why you're complaining," I counter, "As I recall, he was your friend before he was mine."

"Of course," she scoffs, "but I didn't sardonify him."

"Sardonify? That's not a word," Moony says.

"See? You're so pedantic it makes my head hurt."

Moony grins widely as if being called pedantic is the best thing in the world.

"I don't think I made Moony sardonic – that's all down to him."

"True," Lily muses, "out of all of you though, Sirius is probably the most sardonic."

"What makes you say that?" Moony asks amusedly.

"Have you heard his analysis of Romeo and Juliet?" Lily raises an eyebrow.

"Yes, he is quite cynical, isn't he?"

"Quite cynical? He's practically scathing when it comes to romance."

"You were quite scathing about soul mates and all that until not so long ago," I point out.

"I however, am an open-minded individual. I'm not as acrimonious as I used to be."

"No," I agree, "but you're still very acerbic at extremely inappropriate times, especially when drunk."

"But you love me really."

"Of course I do," I kiss her softly.

SEVERUS' P.O.V

MALFOY MANOR

JULY 1981

"Say hello to your godfather, Draco," Narcissa beams at the pale child in her grasp.

How Narcissa expects a child only a year old to be so polite as to say 'hello' I cannot fathom. His expression is that of utter boredom and wanting to be anywhere but here. For once, I find myself sympathising with the vile creature. His complexion really is far too pale – it's a wonder I can't see his organs through that translucent skin of his.

The languor of the room is starting to suffocate me. Summer has (unfortunately) arrived and thus, all the enervation that comes with it. Blistering weather, humidity, bright light, insects, tourists – though there aren't so many of those around – and simply people in general. There is something about the summer season that just seems to bring out the most exasperating idiosyncrasies in people. The agonising disregard for money, the indolent neglect of basic manners, the extravagance and tasteless adornment of holiday clothing – the list goes on and on. What is it about the weather that suddenly gives people the notion that they may behave differently and rudely? As though the sun's shining licenses such behaviour and peculiarity –

"How have you been, Severus? I've hardly seen you since the party…" her voice makes me jerk to attention.

"I'm quite alright, Narcissa. How are you?"

"You know, for the first time in ages, I feel well. Lucius hasn't been away as much – it's good for Draco to have his father around – and Bella and Rodolphus seem to be getting along…"

"As well as one would think possible," I say gruffly.

"Bella's been going through a… difficult time lately," Narcissa sighs, wrapping her arms around Draco's unwilling frame.

"Haven't we all?"

"I know, Severus," she doesn't meet my eyes – instead focuses her gaze on the window.

A subtle breeze flows through, tugging at the curtains and swimming around our ankles. It's almost a relief.

"I found out something, Severus. It's why I wanted you to come here."

I look at her then, there's something in her eyes – a deep, harrowing sadness.

"I can't have any more children, Severus. Draco is the last one. The Healers say it's a miracle he was ever born… I just keep having miscarriages, if it even makes it to that stage," her voice catches and I can see traces of tears in her eyes, "Lucius says he doesn't care but…"

"You do?"

"Yes, I do care. I've given up trying now – what's the point? Some people just don't know how lucky they are."

She breaks down then. Draco looks up at her, confused. I pull her into a hug, something I only resort to in emergencies.

"Do you think this is the right thing, Severus?" she murmurs.

"Hm?"

"What we're doing, where we stand in this war. Are we doing the best thing possible?"

"Narcissa…"

"I can't stop thinking about it. If the Dark Lord wins the war –"

"When," I correct her "when he wins the war."

"You think He will?"

"I can't afford to think anything else. Neither can you."

"What have we gotten ourselves into?"

"We didn't have a choice. What you did… you did it for your family. If you'd chosen differently, Draco wouldn't be here, Lucius wouldn't, or Bellatrix, your parents, anyone. They'd all be dead – or worse and you would too. It's about survival now; morals don't have anything to do with it anymore."

"What about Draco's future? What if he has to grow up in a world where he has to make sacrifices and live in pain –?"

"That's life, Narcissa. You can't protect him from that."

"I have to try."

"What are you going to do? Give up?"

"Of course not, I'm going to wait."

"For what?"

"For an opportunity."

"Narcissa…"

"I'll do whatever it takes."

"You're making a huge mistake."

"You're the one who's playing with fire, Severus."

"I don't have anything to lose!"

She flinches away from me, hurt.

"Nothing?" she says, "what about Lily?"

I pause at that.

"She doesn't want anything to do with me, Narcissa."

"And you? Do you want anything to do with her?"

"You know the answer to that," I reply quietly.

"She matters to you, doesn't she? Even if I don't."

"Narcissa, I didn't mean that – you mean a lot to me, you know that."

"Do I? Severus, I do have a lot to lose – which is why this is so important. I want what's best for my family and I'm having doubts. Does He even want to win the war? Does He care what happens to all of us? No. He doesn't, He never did and He never will. I'm not starting some rebellion; I'm not going to work for the Light side – I'm just asking you to consider what our position means."

"You'd better be good at Occlumency," I say, already getting up and heading for the door.

"Just think about it Severus, please. Where will we be at the end of all of this?"

I walk out, my head swimming.

Of course I've had doubts - countless ones.

Doubts that have been strategically planted by Dumbledore, doubts created by my own paranoia and depression, doubts from the Dark Lord himself…

Where will I be at the end of all of this? Assuming the Dark Lord wins. What will happen if the Dark Lord doesn't win? Has Dumbledore seen through me already? Will I go to Azkaban? Will there even be an Azkaban at the end?

There are so many unknowns, so much uncertainty and in the middle of it all – ceaseless, endless, pointless violence.

JAMES P.O.V

31ST JULY 1981

"Happy Birthday Harry!"

A letter, covered in glitter and colours of all shades, sings merrily. It's from the Longbottoms. I don't know if Harry knows that it's his birthday but he looks excited anyway.

Bathilda is coming over later on for tea, Molly and the Weasley clan send their best wishes, Marlene is in hiding, Padfoot's away but he sent Harry a toy broomstick – Harry's going to be a flyer when he's older. He's practically a natural (though he did manage to smash that vase that Petunia got Lily last Christmas – I have a hunch that maybe it wasn't an accident but he's only a year old so who knows?). I can't wait to take him out onto a proper pitch – all of us Marauders out together and we'll teach him how to play Quidditch. It'll be just like the old days. When this bloody war ends, we'll fly every day. I'll teach him all my tricks, introduce him to the best teams, take him to the Quidditch World Cup – the next one's in five years…

I hear a screech and Oscar comes darting out of the living room, tail on end. Harry comes whizzing out moments later, screaming with laughter. Oscar's rather intelligent for a cat and very tolerant with Harry (though not since Harry's been on his broomstick). He also adores Lily – he'll follow her everywhere, fetches her wand for her, curls up with her by the fire… as Moony put it, it's almost like I've been replaced – but being jealous of a cat is just stupid.

Moony's off somewhere with the Order so it's just me, Lil and Harry (and Bathilda but she never stops talking – honestly, the minute she opens her mouth I can feel myself about to nod off). We're not supposed to be doing anything for the Order at the moment as we're 'in danger'. Bloody Dumbledore has my cloak still as well so I'm basically under house arrest. Lily seems perfectly content inside but I am beginning to drown in boredom and ennui. How can he expect me to stay inside until the war's over? Lily thinks something's up – that they're keeping something from us but regardless of whether they are or not, I can't stay inside for much longer or I'll go crazy.

It's a small birthday tea that we're having for Harry. Not many people are willing to come out and celebrate – I can see why, Merlin knows we all know why, but I resent that none of the Marauders could be here. It's unfounded, but I wanted them to at least try to be here – for Harry. I have Lily though and she makes it all bearable.