A/N: Hello! Thank you ever so much for your support - honestly, the reviews, favourites, follows... thank you for reading this, I greatly appreciate it! :)

I hope you enjoy this chapter - perhaps 'enjoy' is the wrong word? Anyway, have a lovely day!

LILY'S P.O.V

AUGUST 1981

It's about seven pm.

The sun is setting, the sky sinking into soft orange, red and pink. The warm glow touches my face and I settle back in the garden chair.

It had been a beautiful day.

James, Harry and I went to a beach (despite the danger) and built sandcastles. We paddled in the sea, ate tea in the sand and bathed in the sun. It's the first time we'd been outside in weeks – James was happy for it and that made me happy. I hate to see him restless – he's like a caged bird. As much as I know he loves us and our home, being incarcerated this way isn't good for him. The confinement was really starting to get to me, too – it's no fun being cooped up indoors with a bored one-year-old. I doubt we'll be able to do it again – Albus seems more and more worried every time I see him. He never says what is so dangerous, or why it affects us specifically.

I wonder if I care anymore.

More and more deaths, the Death Eaters growing in number and we can't do a damn thing. They won't let us fight, they won't let us help. What use am I at home? What can I do from the confines of my room? I need to be out there – those people are my family, my friends – and I need to help them and protect them if I can. It's just so ridiculous. There has always been a risk and there will always be a risk – that's war. That's just how it is. I can't stay inside and watch the people I love suffer, I can't stand by – I don't even know where Sirius is. I don't know where Remus is, or Wormtail, or Marlene or Al, Frank, Emmeline, Dorcas… no one. I feel so isolated and cut off. It's the same for James.

They're waiting – but what for, I can only guess. The end of the war? That could be years away. A secret weapon? Fanciful thinking. A development? I can't see one coming around the corner. It's not going to get better, Albus needs to accept that. If anything, it'll only get worse. The Death Eaters are targeting 'blood traitor' families; they're killing more and more people every day. This is what we have and we just need to fight with it. No one's going to swoop in and save us, no one's going to come to the rescue, we're not going to crack through the enemy lines – this is it. We need to win or die trying. I can see that now – this is it.

A tawny owl carrying a cream letter with a gold Ministry seal flies overhead. It drops the letter into my lap and flies off. A familiar sense of dread fills me – it starts in my heart and grips it with an ice-like grasp. I can feel my hands shaking, the world spinning.

We are writing to inform you of an attack on Cokeworth.

I can feel the grass, the Marauders sitting beside me, the sandwich turning to cardboard in my mouth - All houses are down to rubble.

My heart is beating right out of my chest. Whoever said that loss gets easier as time passes is a liar. You miss them sometimes and the time between the times you miss them gets longer but when you remember to miss them, when you remember what you lost, it hurts more than anything in the world. It's worse than a thousand Crucios to the heart and then there's the guilt – because it's been so long since you last felt this way and you feel like such an awful person for not thinking about them, because that's what they deserve isn't it?

Mr and Mrs Evans… are declared to be dead.

The letter rises and I try to bring myself back but I can't hear anything. All I can hear is the roar of the world, I can see my dad with his pipe, my mum with her red hat, our holiday to Brighton, the book they bought me when I fell off my bike and broke my leg, my eighth birthday party, my first school report… a childhood full of things I can't see clearly. A childhood full of things they'll never do again. It's all so misty and cloudy – I can't remember it all anymore. It feels so distant and faded.

Arms around me, holding me tight, the world's collapsing, asphyxiating me. I can hear whispering, or is it shouting?

"Lily! Lily! You're okay, you're okay…"

It's James, it must be. I'd recognise his voice anywhere. I can hear crying – is it me or is it him? He's rocking me now and things start to focus, the feeling comes back to my hands and I can feel the warmth of his chest. I'm curled up, my arms around my knees.

Calm, Lily, calm…

You're safe, James is here, nothing can hurt you anymore.

He's murmuring words that I can't decipher but they sound comforting and secure, like his arms around me.

"They're gone, they're gone…" I can hear the words tug out of my mouth, but they're hollow and detached.

"I'm here, Lily."

I give up fighting and fall against him, crying until my tears run dry.

JAMES' P.O.V

I have one arm around Lily, my other hand on a letter from the Ministry.

I don't want to have to tell Lily – partly because I'm scared of how she'll react, partly because she seems in a bad way already. I don't know what happened exactly – I walked outside and Lily was shaking and rocking and her breathing… I thought she was possessed by something.

She seems okay now. It's been a while since this has happened, it usually happens to me, not her. I'll see something, hear something, that reminds me of them and it's like something crushing your insides, shaking your guts and compressing your heart. The fear comes back, the grief and the panic, too. I hate that it happens so often but I suppose this is war. Now, we make sure we always have Droughts of Peace and potions for a dreamless sleep in the house – anything to make it go away.

When I was younger, I was told that soldiers were heroes - the heroes of the story that had suffered great losses but lived in glory. They were happy and care-free and wonderful – but that's not what soldiers are like. Heroes aren't happy. When you lose something, you don't just lose it that day, you lose it every day of your life. It doesn't go away – space makes it better, time may start to heal it but it doesn't go away. It's in your head, behind your eyes, it lives in the shadows and every day – the pain renews itself. Sometimes it gets too much, sometimes it's too overwhelming and your body shuts down.

It's hard when it happens but it's so much worse when it happens to someone else, someone you love, Lily – but she understands what it's like. She knows what it's like to feel this way and if there's anything I've been longing for all my life, it's for someone to understand.

So we sit there and even though she's the one who needs support, I'm leaning on her. I'm going to need all the strength I can get.

"James?" her voice is hesitant, but strong.

"Yes?"

"What does the letter say?"

I look away, unable to meet her gaze.

"James, please. Please don't make me guess. I can't stand not knowing if it's Fabian, Gideon, Frank, Al, Benjy…"

"There was another attack, Marlene… All the McKinnons… there were Death Eaters, no one knows who exactly but Travers was one of them…"

"Does Sirius know?"

"I have no idea."

She's silent a moment before she gets up and walks towards the door. I watch her go, what else can I do? Another one dead – I just wasn't expecting the next death to be so close to home. So far, it's been people I barely recognise, people I don't know at all, but Marlene I did know. Marlene was part of my childhood, coming to the Manor every summer, Marlene who was so alive and energetic, Marlene was simply always there. In the Gryffindor Common Room, nattering away to Alice Smith, here at Christmas, here helping us move in… and now she's gone. Another one, gone.

LILY'S P.O.V

What is it that James Whitcomb Riley says?

And loyal still, as he gave the blows

Of his warrior-strength to his country's foes.

Mild and gentle, as he was brave –,

When the sweetest love of his life he gave

It's the end, though. It's the end that rings true: Think of him still as the same, I say:

He is not dead- he is just away!

I'm numb all over. They were in hiding; they were supposed to be safe. This was never supposed to happen. We all did everything in our power to prevent it.

I can't stop seeing her face – beautiful blue eyes, golden hair, perfect smile – a smile that I'll never see again. I'll never hear her blunt assessments on people's characters again, I'll never walk with her by my side and feel like I can conquer anything again, I'll never sit with her all day in the sun and feel perfectly content again, I'll never fight by her side and go into battle with her again. So many things I'll never do now that she's dead.

I miss her so much – and the statement feels so inadequate. Missing her doesn't cover it – it's like something has been ripped from me, torn apart and burned. For so many years, it had been me, Mar and Alice. What happened? Now Alice is God knows where, Marlene's dead and I'm alone.

I'm at the graveyard in Cokeworth, my back against their gravestones. Fate is cruel. Life is cruel. But I already knew that, so why does it come with so much surprise? Why does it feel so horrible if I've been through it before?

"Lily?"

James' voice.

"Mama," Harry's voice.

I look up and my family is there and we sit together. No one says anything, we just hold each other. The worst thing is that I know I'll have to get up at some point and carry on. It doesn't matter how much the world crumbles, life still goes on. The war still goes on. Yet, as awful as it is and as awful as it will be, in the words of Oscar Wilde: love is always with you, and love is stronger than death is.

THREE DAYS LATER

It has been three days. No one has seen Sirius in all that time – no trace whatsoever. I've sent him letters, like always but he hasn't replied.

Meanwhile, this grief has brought me closer to my old school friends – the Prewett twins, Dorcas, Emmeline and it has somehow united all of us in the Order. Marlene was so alive, so full of life, she was a strong character. Not everybody liked Marlene but she was popular, she had a way of grabbing your attention and making you want her to like you. She was like a firework, impulsive and unpredictable, full of energy and vigour and so beautiful. I simply can't put into words how much I miss her.

When my parents died, I felt alone. Yet now, I don't feel so alone – my friends are going through the same thing. They know what it's like. This war has never felt so real – and personal. I'm not fighting because I have to, though that is part of it, I'm fighting because I want to. I want my rights and freedom in this world. I want to feel safe again. I want a better world for everyone, one in which there is no persecution of Muggle-borns, one in which the system is fair and if the price of that is my life, then so be it. I'm not giving up. You see it's not just my life I want to protect – I have to think about all our lives, Harry's life – Harry's future.

"Lily?"

James smiles sadly as he sits down next to me. He grasps my hand tightly.

"We'll get through this. We've been through worse…"

"I know. It doesn't make it any less difficult though."

"That's true… I haven't heard from Padfoot. Still no word from Alice?"

Despite our differences – despite everything, I've been trying to reach out to her. The funeral is only a few days away.

"Not so much as a Patronus."

"No word from Wormtail either."

"Peter?"

"Didn't you hear? He's been gone since yesterday – he came back for a few days from the last trip and now he's gone again. Left a note saying something about a long trip to the mountains for the Order."

"On his own?"

"Apparently."

"Really?"

"I was surprised too."

I lean into him, my face buried into his chest. I can feel his heartbeat, slow and steady. Rhythmic.

"What are we going to do James?"

"I honestly don't know anymore. I wish Padfoot would come home. Moony's been trying to track him down, Alice too but he's getting nowhere. We've all been so unfocused… I hate to say it but we have to get back to work, Order meetings, filing… even if we can't actually bloody fight…"

"I wish time would just slow down once in a while."

"Maybe this is the wrong time to say it but when I'm with you, time always seems to slow down."

"Maybe this is the wrong time to say it but I love you more than anything, even when you do say cheesy things like that."

"I love you."

And so we kiss, in spite of everything. Hating the world on your own is tiring but together, the rest of the world doesn't seem to matter all that much. Together, we are alive. We have been through a lot, so many changes and twists and turns… but he never left my side, never faltered for a moment and I love him. We will get through this, I promise.

JAMES' P.O.V

A WEEK LATER

THE FUNERAL

Not many people could make it. It was a small ceremony and short, too. A few people said a few words, there were tears, and there were half-hearted condolences and bloody news reporters.

Of course a tragic story about a girl, fighting for freedom only to be plucked untimely from the clutches of youth by a cruel fate at the hands of her enemies is too good a story to pass. Lily refused to say a word to them.

"She's dead and all they care about is making money out of it," she'd muttered under her breath, clearly angry.

There was nothing to say.

"Did you hear some of them?" Lily says, as we walk out of the ceremony, "It's like they didn't even know her! She wasn't sweet and honest! She wasn't a homely girl who dreamed of having children! And Sturgis hated her, now he's making out that she's some kind of hero. Why is it that the dead are never remembered as they were when they were alive?"

"Only the good die young, Lily."

"Bloody dishonesty."

"I know."

"I wish Alice was here."

"Alice Smith?" I ask – I know she's been trying to get into contact with her – it's only right she knows about Marlene, "I know you've been trying to contact her but I thought you two weren't friends anymore. Why would you want her here?"

"We're not, it's just… she and Marlene were best friends. They were so much closer than Marlene and I ever were and I feel as though she should be here."

"Lil… she's not –"

"I know," she says quietly.

There's nothing to say then, no magic words to make it better so we stand there, leaning on each other, tired and worn, just us two, shoulders braced, against the world.