A/N: Hello! Thank you ever so much for your continued support, it means so much to me!

Though I hate to say it, there is not much more to go. I think it'll be finished by the next chapter - which is sad, in a way. It's been part of my routine for absolutely ages (or it feels like it). I've loved every minute (or close enough) and I'd never have improved or gotten so far without you, so thank you.

If you're interested, I do have a second story which is a sort of companion piece to this. It's drabbles, ficlets, character sketches, plot lines I never wrote in this story, other people's point of views, my head canons and that sort of thing. So if you want to know what happens to Oscar the cat, or what happened on Marlene and Sirius' first date, go and have a look, the link is on my profile.

Thank you, have a wonderful day and enjoy!

SEVERUS' P.O.V

OCTOBER 1981

HOGWARTS

I despise teaching.

Most of the children are incompetent, ungrateful and rude. How anyone can stand teaching these monkeys is beyond me. What on Earth convinced me that teaching would be a good idea? I have no patience with people who can't follow basic instructions. If the textbook says crush, don't throw them in whole. I have not come across a single student who has a gift for Potions, not one. There are a few who, perhaps, with a lot of work, could be something resembling decent at Potions but none of them have the talent that Lily had at eleven, or even myself. It's so frustrating, sometimes I just want to rip my own hair out and the essays… where do I begin with the essays?

Ink stains everywhere, a disregard for basic grammar, a strange avoidance of all punctuation, spelling as rare as Hufflepuff winning the House Cup, writing that is illegible and, if by some miracle they can write, the content is riddled with factual errors, basic and reductionist thinking, no analysis or critical awareness… I'm at my wits' end. How can these people be the future of the Wizarding World? If I cared enough, I'd weep for humanity.

I'm still working as a Double Agent and sniffing out would-be Death Eaters in Slytherin is exceedingly dull. They think they're so impressive and tough – but when they get out into the real world, they'll have a nasty shock. Fighting in a war and being a Death Eater is not at all glamorous. I know what will happen, I've seen it before. Eager, half-witted youngsters desperate to please their parents, take the Dark Mark and decide they want all the glory that comes with being a Death Eater. They fight a battle, have to kill a friend, get tortured and suddenly they realise, much too late, that this isn't what they wanted at all. That being a Death Eater isn't fun, isn't easy and they're in too fast to get out now. So, trapped, they either do something stupid and get themselves killed or they go mad. If, on the off chance, they're clever, then even the more reason to find them now. It's the clever ones that survive – but it doesn't matter how intelligent or cunning they might be, if they're arrogant as well, then they'll get complacent and in a war, complacency will get you killed. Again, I've seen it before.

The clever ones can be dissuaded from that path, but it can be a difficult task. When confronted they either pretend to be ignorant or they pretend to not care. Both are equally as aggravating. I don't see how the Dark Lord could ever accept them as Death Eaters. They're immature, unprepared and –

"Professor Snape?"

"What is it?"

"You said to come to you about my essay…"

"Well don't lurk in the doorway like a gremlin, come in for goodness sake."

"Yes sir."

He hands me his essay which I told him to rewrite – it's barely acceptable. At least he omitted the section about practical uses of wormwood, which was quite possibly one of the most painful things I've ever had to read.

"It's still sloppy. Your spelling is all over the place, your research is greatly flawed and what have I told you about paragraphs?"

"Um…"

"Use them! I shouldn't have to waste so much time trying to find where one section ends and the next one starts. It's a mess. You need to improve your handwriting."

"Yes sir."

"I've been told to talk to you about your Transfiguration results."

"Oh."

"They're slipping. It's the same with Herbology, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions… all your subjects."

I stare at him and he squirms.

"You have terrible penmanship but you're not stupid."

"Thank you sir."

"I said you weren't stupid, not that you were student of the year. I am not blind, Matthews."

"I don't know what you mean, Professor."

"I think you do and if it turns out the way I think it will… I'd advise you to use that bloody brain of yours, or else you might find yourself in a situation less than… savoury."

"Are you threatening me, Professor?"

"Rewrite the section on wormwood; I expect to see improvement by tomorrow."

I turn my attention back to the essays I'm marking. He snatches his essay off the table and walks towards the door.

Matthews is only eleven and he's already wasting his life. Quite an accomplishment, I must say. I didn't perfect the art of destroying my future so effectively until I was at least fifteen.

I hear footsteps.

"So, Severus? Is he a Death Eater?"

I regard Dumbledore from behind my desk.

"Not yet."

"Then it's only a matter of time," he says sadly. "They get younger every year."

"I think it's more that we get older."

"Did he tell you..?"

"No. He was purposefully avoiding the subject."

"But you warned him?"

"He wouldn't listen."

"He will," Dumbledore sighs.

"I wouldn't be so sure."

"You think it's too late?"

"I never said that."

Dumbledore's expression is unreadable.

"They've cast the charm, Severus."

"Good."

"Voldemort –"

"Nobody's seen him."

"Is he looking for them?"

"If not now, he will be soon. The charm will keep them safe."

JAMES' P.O.V

I'm leaning against the wall in our bedroom – Harry's about ready to go to sleep. Lily's finishing off her bedtime story for him.

If it weren't for them, I'd have gone mad by now.

It's almost been a week of staying inside, being trapped and shut in all day. We have a routine. Lily wakes me up, we go downstairs, have breakfast, she reads, I play with Harry – it's usually Quidditch related, sometimes Lily joins in, then we have lunch, then Harry usually naps, Lily and I make the most of our few hours of privacy, Harry wakes up, we give him an early dinner, we give Harry a bath, Lily reads to him (sometimes I read to him), then Harry goes to bed and it's just us two.

"Alright, trouble, time for bed," she says and Harry seems to give her a pleading look, which she ignores.

She closes her book and kisses him before going over to where I'm standing. I kiss Harry goodnight and then follow her downstairs. The minute I close the living room door, she wraps her arms around my middle, her cheek resting on my back.

"It's Halloween tomorrow," she whispers.

"I know," I twist around so that we're facing each other. "I wish we could take Harry out."

"I wish we could, too," Lily sighs, running her hand along my spine.

"Next year."

"Yes," Lily promises, "next year we'll go trick or treating, we'll all dress up, Sirius will hold his party and we'll carve pumpkins and decorate the house…"

"D'you remember that one Halloween in Hogwarts? When we had a ball in the Room of Requirement?"

"The one those Ravenclaws held in fifth year?" she asks.

"That's the one."

"Yes, Marlene made me go. It was a mythological theme, I came dressed as Persephone," she narrows her eyes at me, "and you, because you thought you were hilarious, came dressed as Hades."

"What can I say? I've always been a romantic."

She snorts, "You spent the whole evening following me around, trying to get me to dance with you."

"Well it worked."

"I only danced with you to shut you up."

"Of course you did."

"I did! And you kept trying to get me to drink pomegranate punch –"

"I wanted to know if the myths were true."

"And are they?" she asks, her lips hovering against mine.

"Well you drank it and here you are."

"Here I am," she agrees, "and I'm not leaving."

I tighten my grip on her waist and kiss her gently at first, brushing the stray strands of hair from her face. She presses her body against mine, deepening the kiss. She tastes of pumpkin juice and fruit cake. Her lips are soft, her kiss sends shudders of warmth through my body, making my fingers tingle and bringing my body alive.

I remember throughout seventh year, whilst on patrols in Hogwarts, we'd sneak off to find somewhere quiet. We'd kiss with the excitement of newfound love, the frenzy of not wanting to let go and the slightly exhilarating possibility of being caught. Now, not much has changed. She's still as beautiful as she ever was, perhaps more so. If anything, it's better now – we have a son whom I love more than I thought possible and she's… she brings light to my day, cheers me up, distracts me if I need it, talks when I need it and I don't know where I'd be without her. It's always been her, always. Every moment alone we have is golden.

I may not know when the war will end, or if I'll live to see another day, but I know that dead or alive, by her side is where I want to stay.

SEVERUS' P.O.V

There are about a million and one things that must be done, but only one thing is on my mind. The Dark Lord has been searching for her – for Harry. He said he would spare her, I begged him to spare her and he agreed.

I worry that his word doesn't mean very much. I don't trust him, that's for certain. I've changed sides, once and for all. It was Narcissa who really made me think about it, about what it means to stand with the Dark side. Though I don't see how, I don't think the Dark Lord will win the war. He may have the advantage but, if nothing else, he simply doesn't seem to care about winning the war. He should be here, organising his army to attack the Ministry – if we do it now, the Ministry wouldn't hold. If he attacked now, he'd win.

Instead, he's off on his own, leaving the ranks to organise themselves. You can imagine how that's working out -pure chaos, absolute anarchy.

There are Death eaters like Mulciber, who may have had a trace of competence many years ago, but are now at the point of insanity. I don't think there's even a trace of order inside that thick skull of his. He's damaged his soul beyond repair – too many murders, too many unspeakable acts. We all knew what he did, we all knew what kind of things he did to women but we never said a word.

There's no one in the Order who does that. That is what they're fighting against: the Mulcibers of this world.

There are many more like him, after all. Bellatrix, for example, who is so far gone, it's a wonder she can dress herself. She's like a cat, dragging in poor injured souls so that she can play with them some more before she eventually lets them die.

Rodolphus and Rabastan are just as bad. They pretty much torture anything that moves suddenly, which is why you don't approach them and if they come towards you, you run – and quickly. They often talk to themselves and in those rare moments when they seem slightly sane, you wish they weren't because everything that comes out of their mouths is foul. They might be aware that you're a Death Eater and not a crow, but that doesn't mean they'll treat you much better.

I've avoided mixing too much with those sorts of Death Eaters – they don't make for very good company. Luckily, those sorts of Death Eaters are in a minority. Most Death Eaters keep to themselves, fight when they're ordered to and otherwise remain silent. It suits everyone else just fine.

I've been keeping my distance from Narcissa, lest my true intentions be discovered. I don't want her or her son to suffer as consequence. The Dark Lord likes to do that – hurt the people closest to you. Perhaps she will understand – but perhaps not. We are very alike, and in that respect, very unforgiving. But what more can I do? Lily's suffered enough at the Dark side's hand as retribution for my mistakes; I'll not let Narcissa suffer the same fate. I've learnt my lesson and I won't make the same mistake twice.