Remember What I Forgot

by AlwaysThatGuy

Ten years after the defeat of Voldemort and fall of Harry Potter, footage emerges of a friend long thought dead. Finding him alive and unaware of his past, Hermione does what she does best. But with other factions in play and with nothing as it seems, how far will she go to find out the truth of what happened? H/HR.

25. Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Four

Saturday 19th September 2012

"Well, hello there, family man."

Peyton's voice broke him from his reverie, and he turned to offer her a warm smile as she approached him.

"Bit on the fence about whether you want the family or not?"

He gave her a look. One of those looks. The kind of look that said she should be a dad making puns like that.

Peyton's response was a matter of a cocked-eye look and a pointed glance down at the wooden fence on which James was sitting.

James just shook his head and took another swig from the still cold beer that he clutched in his hand.

"You done?" he asked.

"I'm never done." she replied, as she easily hoisted herself up to sit beside him.

He just nodded. Lost in his own thoughts. Trying to determine and unravel the weird mixture of emotions he had about the entire situation, as it unfolded before him.

"I mean." She continued as though he had asked for elaboration. He hadn't. He hadn't needed to. Her providing further explanation was a certainty. "Think about all that time you spent whinging about not having a family. But now look at you, you're at a barbecue with two ex-girlfriends and your current one. It's the stuff that dramas are made from. Honestly, I'm expecting a fight by the end of the day."

James snorted.

"Is that what you think you are to me, Peyton? An ex-girlfriend?"

Peyton gave him a smile. "Not at all. I would say I'm your best friend. But to say that I wasn't an ex-girlfriend would take away from all that growth we had during that period, even if it wasn't meant to be."

She'd clearly outmanoeuvred him there. She always did that.

"I'd agree," James said as he looked back across the mingling crowd. He could see Lucky and Charlie having a beer and laughing about something the twins were doing. Hermione was standing with Cass and Fleur.

As if sensing his look, she looked over and shot him a smile, which he happily returned.

"On which part?"

"All of it. Being my best friend, the growth we had, all of it."

Peyton let out an easy laugh. "Please, make sure you tell that to Luke next time you see him. We've been competing about that for years. I usually shut down that argument by telling him that only one of us has had sex with you. I always say that makes us closer."

James had taken that unfortunate time to take a sip of his drink, and spat it out in a laugh.

"Unless of course, there's something you two want to tell me?"

James just shook his head. "You're a menace, you know that?"

"I know that."

He reached out and gave her a gentle push, causing her to laugh.

"Don't push me off, dickhead."

He laughed in reply. Then he noticed her drink.

"Juice?" His eyebrow raised.

She shrugged.

"Congratulations?"

She shook her head.

"We've just started trying," she said, giving him a smile. "We figured it was time that we gave Lily a sibling, you know? Make her an oldest."

"I thought I was your oldest child."

She chuckled at that.

"Between you and Luke, I don't know which one of you is the biggest child. But besides, you have Hermione now. You've got this big family, now. You must be stoked. I'm happy for you."

There was something in her tone that struck a cord. something in him. Something that made him think back to the conversation they had had in the hospital. The one where she had made the remarks about not feeling like he was where he was meant to be. He hated that. He hated that she felt that. After all they had all been through, he hated that she felt like a placeholder.

"Can I be honest with you, Peyton?"

She scoffed.

"When has lying ever worked with me, James?"

"Fair enough," he said, then scratched at his beard as he tried to find the right words to describe how he felt. "It's weird. Like these people here, they're lovely. They're absolutely wonderful. They've all come at me and done everything they can to make me feel like I belong here."

"But you don't?"

"No. No, I don't," he sighed lightly. "I don't know these people, Peyton. Truthfully? They scare me. What if I am not this Harry Potter character? I'm just James Black. He's easier to be, because that's who I feel like I am. I don't know how I feel about all this expectation they have for me. That I would be this boy wizard, 'chosen one' thing. It just…"

He paused as he searched for the right words, but they didn't come. What did come was a frustrated sigh.

"I don't know…. I'm not that. I'm not a wizard. I'm certainly no hero. I'm just a soldier. That's all I am. That's it."

He paused and Peyton didn't say anything. She just reached out and put a hand on his arm.

They sat in companionable silence for a moment as she pondered what he said.

She spoke carefully, with a delicate nature to her tone. It was the kind of tone that James recognised instantly as the kind of tone that Peyton used when she was doing her absolute best to not tell him what to do. It was her way, afterall.

"You're much more than 'just a soldier', James. So much more. But I get your point."

He looked over and gave her a soft smile. "Honestly, and probably in complete contradiction to the expected, seeing all these people has just made me appreciate you, Lucky and Lily even more. What they are doing is absolutely amazing. Their gratitude is more than I ever could have imagined…"

He started to pick at the label on his beer bottle as he looked back down.

"But I don't feel like I belong here. I don't feel like this is home, or that this is family."

"Who do you feel like is family?" She asked lightly. Looking over as Hermione had began to move towards them.

"Hermione," he said easily. He met her gaze and then looked over as Hermione began her approach towards them. "Hermione is family. You and Luke and Lily. You are my family. All of this feels…"

He trailed off for a moment.

"Unknown."

She blew out a breath and then nodded. Joining him as they watched Hermione walk over.

"Give it time, James. I'm sure that in time it will all start to click. It will all make sense. You can't just walk in here and feel instantly at home. It doesn't work like that."

"Why not?" James said, like he really was her oldest child. "I mean, I felt it instantly with Hermione. With everyone else I feel this vague sense of familiarity, but nothing that would give me that feeling of actually being home."

Peyton turned and gave him a knowing look. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"James. I say this with love, alright? I say this as someone who cares about you a great deal."

She paused, chewing on her lip as if she was contemplating exactly how to soften the right hook that was coming.

"You might be the most emotionally closed off person that walks the Earth."

He gave her a look.

"Which part of that was said with love?"

She laughed lightly. "James. You can't expect all of that to feel this way, instantly. Home isn't that. Home is a feeling of familiarity. It takes time. But look at you around them. You're doing fine. You're interacting fine. From my conversations with them, they don't expect you to be Harry Potter. They expect you to be you. Most of them are just grateful to have you back. They are grateful to see Hermione so happy. So, maybe take some of the pressure off yourself and relax. What is it that you and Lucky say, 'Lean into it and let the hill do the work'."

"That expression doesn't make sense in that context." James shot back.

"That expression doesn't make sense in any context." she fired back, just as rapidly.

"Nothing ever makes sense with you, James," Hermione said with a smile, as she approached. "I'm sorry to disappoint."

He gave her a smile.

"Like how I managed to score a beautiful woman, like yourself?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.

"And Peyton." She shot back as she winked at Peyton, who in turn punched James in the arm.

"Yes, and Peyton."

"And Ginny." Peyton added.

"Can we stop now?"

"Stop what?" Peyton said with a cheeky smile, as Hermione moved to stand between James's legs, turning around to lean backwards into him. She felt his arms wrap around her and his chin rested on the top of her head.

"Am I interrupting?" she asked.

"Not at all," Peyton said easily. "We were just talking about family."

Hermione sighed as she leaned back into him. "Interesting concept, isn't it?"

James breathed easily as he leaned in and planted a kiss on her crown "Yeah. I just wish I remembered them."

Hermione started drawing little doodles on his jeans with her finger. "I wish you did, too."

"It's weird though," James said aloud. "All of these people, they say they wish it hadn't happened and all that. But really, I can't. I can't wish that. I can't undo all the things I've experienced and all the things I've done. The family I built." He turned and gave Peyton an easy smile. "To take all of that away…"

He blew out a whistle.

"I don't know how I'd come back from that."

A silence hung between them. No one knew exactly what to say. It was one of those moments where James found it in him to speak from the heart. It always left them introspective. He was not a man who readily knew his emotions, or even knew how to express them in a healthy manner.

So, to hear him speak so honestly, spoke to them both of their positions in his world.

It also spoke to them both of the positions of other people. Almost like Hermione and Peyton could assess his hierarchy, and see where everyone sat.

James turned silent for a while.

He suddenly felt ashamed for having not wanted to remember.

XxxxX

The party was in full swing, when James finally had the chance he was looking for. The chance to corner one person in particular. A person who had been ignoring him all day, giving him the cold shoulder. The person he needed assurance was still alive.

"Ron." He called, as Ron was deep in conversation with Luna. He couldn't' miss the worry lines on Ron's face. The way his face was set in a manner that was just that little bit more concerned, more – almost – angry.

"Hello, James," Ron replied. The stiffness in his voice caused Luna's huge eyes to spring up to him in a manner that indicated that she, too, was surprised by his abruptness. James suspected she might know the origins, but for him, it was confusing. He just didn't know, from where, this mood was coming. "Enjoying the day?"

"Very much, thanks," he said, his tone light, but confused. He felt Hermione's presence as she arrived next to him, taking his hand in hers. He gave it a squeeze, which she returned. "Though, as it's Hermione's birthday, the day should be about her."

Ron nodded. Luna smiled at her. It was one of her rich, happy smiles that contained all the social grace that Luna had learnt to develop. She did well to hide the awkwardness of the conversation from everyone present, who could feel it none the same.

"I just wanted to say thanks." He was still confused. He scratched the back of his neck as he realised that the bright, blue eyes he had come to associate with Ron were subdued and missing any form of link or connection to him. He hadn't realised how much he had come to rely upon that link. "For everything. For hosting. For helping with the present. For getting Lucky and Peyton. You've no idea how much it means to me."

He extended his hand and Ron glanced at it. He then looked back up at James. He also didn't miss the way Ron stiffened as he offered his own hand and clasped a hold of James'.

He didn't miss the reluctance of Ron as James pulled him roughly into a hug.

Hermione raised an eyebrow as she saw Ron tense. Saw the way his arms hung almost limply by his side. It was like he was James, and receiving a hug from someone he didn't know.

Ron's arm gradually came up and awkwardly patted James on the back. James pulled back and grabbed Ron by the shoulders.

"It's really good to see you, mate." There was a hitch in James' voice. It carried the genuine nature of his gratitude. The raw happiness, or was it relief, that flowed through his tone. "It's-"

Words failed him.

James could see him him again. Lying on a field of grass; his eyes vacant. His mouth hanging loose and open on a face that had been expanded by the pressure of the ammunition as it had zipped through him.

James saw him lying there and staring at him with an accusing expression. That look in his eyes that blamed him.

The eyes that told him that it was all his fault.

He couldn't let Ron go. He kept holding him by the shoulders. He could see that Ron was giving him an odd look. An odd look that almost contained that same sense of hostility he had seen when he had seen him dead on the field.

"I just wanted to say that. Effectively." The words felt like lead in his mouth. They felt like every syllable was a great effort. Like someone had put extra weights in there without telling him. "Thanks. I just wanted to say I appreciated it."

Ron nodded absently, glancing at Hermione by his side.

"Yep," he said. "Yep, it's no problem."

It occurred to James at that time that he was still holding on. It had gone on just that little bit too long. Weirdly long. He was getting some looks, mostly of bewilderment and surprise. He withdrew his hands, and couldn't help but notice the element of tremble in them. He focussed in on Ron's suspicious, blue eye, if for no other reason than to focus on something.

"James…" Ron asked quietly, as his eyes narrowed, this time the suspicions seemed more pointed and focussed. And not entirely on him. "Did something happen? Have you seen me, over the last week?"

James was vaguely aware of Hermione stepping closer to him. Of her turning to try and meet his gaze. But he didn't speak. He couldn't form the words. His tongue was lead.

How could he possibly convince his mouth to tell his mate that he had killed him. That he had been responsible for him being shot and killed in an ambush that went off without a hitch? How could he form the words to say that despite all that, he stood here now, and was treating him as if the shooting was real. As if he were a ghost, come back to haunt a man that was formerly his best mate.

How could he possibly say it?

"Uncle Harry?" Came a small voice, interrupting the silence and prompting all four adults to turn to see a nervous-looking Teddy Lupin approaching, wringing his hands anxiously in front of him.

James felt all the pent up feeling of fear slowly begin to ebb away as the little boy approached. Ebb away, but not disappear. It still sat there in the pit of his stomach. It compressed him, like when he had first gotten used to wearing body armour.

But something else creeped out. Something hard to define. Trepidation maybe? No. Concern.

"Hello there," he said lightly, kneeling down so that he was at the same height as the approaching boy. "What's your name?"

"Teddy." The little boy said nervously. "Teddy Lupin. Gran says you're my Uncle Harry."

James smiled again at the boy.. "I suppose I am. Or at least I was. A long time ago."

Teddy gave him a wide-eyed look.

"Gran, said that you died when I was very young. That you died and you saved us all. But now she says you aren't dead. That you're here, right now."

James gave the boy a smile. "No, Teddy. Not dead. Not yet. But I don't remember any of that. So, you know the good thing about that?"

Teddy shook his head, his mouth hanging loose.

"It means we can get to know each other at the same time." James said, flashing the nervous boy another smile. "I'm sorry that I don't know you. But I would love to change that, if you will let me."

Teddy bit his lower lip nervously. Then he smiled and nodded.

James laughed. "Glad that the deliberations are over. I'm James Black. It's wonderful to meet you, Teddy." He held out a calloused hand to the boy.

Teddy gave it a quick look before he took it. They shook hands lightly.

James felt Hermione's hand rest reassuringly on his shoulder and he gave her a small smile over his shoulder. Through the shock of it all, she had been careful not to be too far from his side. She did so without hovering. Giving him space with the others when they needed it. She had been careful to be there for him, without being overbearing. Without being too much.

He appreciated it. He had. The day had been hard. Really hard. There were no words he could come up with to describe how grateful he was to have her as his rock.

"Gran says you're my goddad."

James glanced up at Hermione who nodded assuringly.

"I guess I am. How lucky am I? I now, have two brilliant godkids."

"Do you have another godson?" The boy still looked nervous. Glancing between James's eyes and his own two feet.

"I have a goddaughter. Lily. She's right over there with her mum and dad." James indicated to the little blonde girl who was fearlessly running around near her parents. Lucky and Peyton were deep in friendly discussion with two people he now knew to be Neville Longbottom and his wife, Cass.

James saw as the boy's eyes widen, then he looked back down at his feet.

"How old are you, Teddy?"

"Ten. I go to Hogwarts, next year."

"Ten?" James replied, as if he couldn't believe a word of it. "It's a good age ten. Can I tell you a secret?" James asked, his tone turning conspiratorial.

Teddy nodded his enthusiasm and James leaned close, causing Ron, Luna and Hermione to do the same. "I'm only ten as well. Maybe, I should be heading off to Hogwarts with you."

Luna let out a musical laugh, and Ron chuckled, despite himself. But it was Hermione's grin that caused James to wink at her, and the colour to run to her cheeks, once more.

"Really? You think you will? Will you come to Hogwarts with me? I know you've done it when you were little. Uncle Ron and Aunty Luna and Aunty Hermione have told me all about your adventures. The trolls and the dementors and the Philosopher's Stone! Please say you'll come! Please say you will!"

In his excitement, Teddy's hair turned a deep jet black, a mirror image of James's own. James couldn't help but laugh as the little boy's features seemed to tighten and he began to look like he was James's son.

"You can change, Teddy?" James was quickly learning that there was so much about the world of magic he was still learning. He was learning that, at times, it was best to just acknowledge it.

Acknowledge the elephant -no, that wasn't right- the hippogriff in the room.

Teddy nodded happily. "Gran says I got it from my mum. She's dead now. Like yours."

It was all the bluntness that came from childhood, and James's smile broke only so much as was appropriate.

"What do you look like, Teddy?" James asked lightly. "I'm sorry if that's rude…" He glanced up at Hermione who shook her head as if to say it was fine. "I'm really sorry I don't know you yet, Teddy. I would really like to change that. But I think it would be handy if we started with getting to know who you-" He indicated the point with a gentle poke to Teddy's chest. "Actually are. I hear that's important. I'm led to believe that who you are doesn't actually change much."

He felt Hermione's hand on his shoulder. How it tightened ever so slightly in jest.

Teddy nodded enthusiastically and his hair relaxed. The dark, jet-black faded away, and it settled back into sandy brown. It stuck everywhere, but gradually became more controlled, more kept.

His features seemed to relax into their own as well. His features settled in to become the youthful, innocent and soft round features that were his.

He smiled up at James. A big smile of a sandy-brown haired boy, excited to meet his godfather.

But James's smile caught on his face. He felt a blow to his stomach. The air escaped from his stomach and he found himself desperate to take another breath. But each breath he took couldn't satisfy. It couldn't fill him with the air that he needed. The air that he needed just to live. To shift the great weight that had settled on his chest.

He was looking into the eyes of a dead boy.

Cameron.

It hammered home, the second dead person he had seen in the space of only a few moments. The second dead person who was very much alive. Very much filled with expectations.

The second dead person who he had been unable to save.

He was not an exact match, even by the wildest connections of his mind, that reeled beneath the weight of the previous week. But it was close enough that he felt his heart pounding in his chest.

They were different people, but his mind couldn't reconcile that. He couldn't bring himself to focus on the differences. The way Teddy seemed that bit taller, or the youthful enthusiasm of his eyes. He couldn't focus on that.

Instead, all he could see was the similarities. The hair, the eyes, the build.

All he could see was a young boy he had failed to save.

Hermione seemed to feel his tension. He didn't see it, as she raised her hand to her pendant and touched it.

Then her hand squeezed his shoulder again, as reassuring as she could.

But it wasn't enough.

His trembling hand left the boy's shoulder where it had rested and reached for his neck. He could see it there, in the boy's eyes, the confusion, but James didn't care. He had to check.

The boy's neck was warm and his breathing had become rapid as James reached in and felt for it.

The steady thump of a pulse.

He felt his mouth fill with saliva, and he knew exactly what was about to happen. It was coming quickly.

He mumbled out an apology and took off.

His long strides carried him further down the backyard and away from the throngs of people at the party.

"James!" He heard Hermione call after him.

Loyal, faithful, Hermione.

He could hear her footfalls as she rushed to catch up.

But his long strides out paced her. Long trained in quick movement under urgent circumstances. They were guided by goal and necessity.

He came to the wooden fence. Then, without the watchful, judgemental eyes of his new friend Daisy, he vomited.

XxxxX

"I'm fine," he gasped out between retches and the sounds of his lunch hitting the grass. "Absolutely fine."

"Is that what you are?" Her voice contained about as much accusation as befitted the circumstances. That's to say her voice was pointed and unamused. "Fine, absolutely fine?"

"Yep," he said weakly. "I am."

He looked at her and gave her a small smile. It did nothing to pacify her, especially considering the sickly green colour he had adopted as he vomited.

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

"What happened, for fucks sake, James."

He gave her a look.

"We had a deal."

"We sure did. Then you decided that seeing your best mate and your godson was enough to have you gracing us all with a repeat performance of Molly's cooking. We did have a deal. But now, now we have something else."

For all her fire and brimstone, she continued to stroke his back. Her hand running in long circles over his spine and across his shoulders, then back down again. She was worried. Very worried. This was not a normal reaction.

"I'll have you know." A new voice joined them. "That he did not have a chunder when he saw me. He seemed pretty happy, if you ask me."

Hermione turned and saw Lucky approaching them. His hands were in his pockets and his walk was slow, as if he was approaching something as casual as the two of them joking around.

"He did, however, when he saw Ron. Just saying. Best mate? Please."

Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes. Now, was not the time for semantics. She was unimpressed.

"Heard you might have filled your tank, mate."

James sat down gingerly and rolled onto his side, carefully avoiding the mess he had made, which Hermione vanished with her wand. He looked up at Lucky as if they were both in on a big joke.

"Heard this one was a bit rough on you." Lucky continued, his hands still firmly in his pockets.

Hermione reached down and continued to stroke his back, earning a grateful grimace from James.

"Who told you that?"

"Mac." Lucky said casually, with a shrug of his shoulders as he looked down on James. But then he started counting them off his fingers. "Then Mark, Chris, Adam, Byron and Bits. You might say my phone's been blowing up ever since you got back in range this morning. I think, if it hadn't been over concern for you, Peyton would have chucked my phone into the loo."

"I'm fine."

"Is that what you are?" Lucky said casually, parroting Hermione whether he knew it or not. "Fine?"

"I'm fucking fine."

"Oh, fucking fine, are we," Lucky's eyes darkened. The casual, joking, happy-go-lucky tone missing now, replaced now by the kind of tone that Hermione had seldom seen from Lucky. "So fucking fine, that people were basically begging me to tell them that you were actually, as you said, fine. That this is just a phase. That your tank isn't as full as it looks."

"Okay. I'm lost." Hermione butted in. "What tank?"

"His hate tank," he said, turning to look her, his eyes sharp as a dagger. "We all have one. It fills up with the trauma and the things that we see. Then it can either be emptied or not. Jimmy Boy here has filled his. Now, we need to find a way to empty it."

"And how do we do that?"

Lucky shrugged. "It's different for everyone. For some, it's a holiday, a break. But that's out of the question, isn't it Jimmy? Ole Ice Queen won't let you go. So, what are we going to do with you?"

James sat up, resting his arms on his knees and looking down at the ground between them.

"This is just a phase," He grunted. "I'm fine. I'll be fine. This will pass."

"Yeah, It will, if you do something about it." Lucky was having none of his self-sacrificing bullshit.

"And what do you fucking suggest?" he growled. "I'm all fucking ears."

Lucky just gave him a good, long look. He let the air between his teeth and thought about what to say. "My suggestion would be that you start looking at an exit strategy. A permanent one."

Hermione's head snapped up and she looked at Lucky. She looked for a joke, hoping against hope that she wouldn't find one. She was relieved when she didn't. There was no joke to be found.

"You gotta look at this from the right angles, mate. From what the ole 'brightest-witch-but-poorest-taste' over here has told me, you're hot property. You're the oil in the Gulf. The diamonds in Africa. Everyone wants a piece. Everyone sees you as a political, if not strategic objective."

Lucky squatted down on his haunches and looked his mate dead in the eye.

"So, maybe it's time we took you off the board. Changed the game away from you. Plan a retreat."

"Retreat? Where?"

"Well, I'd normally suggest Australia. So, I will, again. We start making moves to get you free and clear. Let them sort this shit out themselves. You've done enough. Fuck, mate, you've done more than enough for two lifetimes. Which is fitting, because you've had two lifetimes. It ain't on you to broker war. It ain't on you to broker peace. You can't. You're a soldier."

He looked over his shoulder at the party that was still going on. At the people who were pretending not to be throwing concerned glances their way. At Peyton, who was chatting and laughing with Cass, while sending a myriad of looks his way that said, 'we will be talking about this soon.'

"You owe them nothing. Not a fucking thing. I mean, this is great, dude. Truly sensational that you've got this family that missed you. But look how fucking embedded they all are in the fabric of their world. One's the Deputy Minister for fucks sake. One is middle management. They are all just stuck in this world. It's a world that will suffocate you. You died for it once, you lost everything, everything, for it. Do you need to do that again? Or can someone else do the fighting for a change?"

Hermione could read James like a book. But she couldn't read the expression he sent Lucky's way.

James opened his mouth to argue, but Lucky cut him off.

"One thing you gotta realise here, Jimmy, is that this war is coming. Two competing worlds living in each other's pockets? It's a miracle it hasn't come to blows already. Though, knowing what I do now about memories and the like, it must have. Has to have. No way this hasn't. I don't give a shit what they say."

Hermione looked up at him, then. She had a horrible feeling in her stomach. She had done that thing she did sometimes. That thing that occurred because of her inherent self-awareness. She had underestimated Lucky. She had underestimated his intelligence. The fact that he, too, had made it into the Regiment, and it wasn't just because of his sense of humour.

But above that, she hadn't accounted for their perspective, Lucky's and Peyton's. Hadn't accounted for the fact that they had only two loyalties to the magical world – and they were both sitting in front of him.

"Point I'm making, mate, is that this war is coming. Whether you're involved or not. Whether you are here or not. You aren't the key to peace, mate. You aren't a nuclear weapon that either side can use to prevent mutually assured destruction. You're one man. A brilliant soldier, I'll admit, and by the sounds of things, a powerful wizard. But here's the kicker. They can't use you, if you don't play."

Hermione felt briefly like an intruder in the conversation. Like this sort of conversation was one they often had. She felt a rush of affection for Lucky as he stood there. The voice of reason over everything that had occurred so far. The fact that he was so willing to tell James the things that she tried to, but without conviction.

He was a realist. He was able to tell James, not to be noble. Not to be stupid. To do the right thing. And to do it all for himself.

"What about the team?" James said, his voice containing an edge. "They are our mates too, Lucky."

"They are. And you know what? Whether we are there or not, they will still be. Whether it's you, or me, or Mark leading them, they will continue. Do you think they will cease to function without us? Really James? Are you that arrogant? We are in the very fucking industry of being replaceable. There's a reason you got taught how to be the Patrol Commander when you were a Lance Corporal. There's a reason you know how to fill in for Byron and Bits, should they go down."

There was no stopping Lucky now. He was on a roll.

"You might get your leg blown off, tomorrow. You might get hit by a car. You might get hit by some fucking spell that kills you stone dead." Lucky took a moment to take a breath. "That team will still exist. That unit will still exist. The Army will still exist. Don't make the mistake of thinking you matter to the Army, James. You don't. Not in the long run. In the long run, you are that rank on your sleeve, that serial number on your paperwork, but no more than that.

You are the filled position number that makes a screen on a computer somewhere go green. A position number that is filled by a serial number. That is what you are. Everything else is just what they use to convince us into selling our souls for our country."

A small silence descended upon them. Hermione knew that once again silence was on her side. She knew he had been thinking about getting out. He had said so, just this morning. But this conversation was the type that would convince him that getting out was the right move, not just the move he felt like she wanted him to play.

"At the end of the day, mate. There is freedom in that. There is freedom in not mattering. It means you don't have to keep tearing off parts of your soul for them. It means you get to bundle up what you have left, and start the slow and steady process of rebuilding it. Of healing it."

Lucky paused then, looking up and over the paddock into the distance.

His next words surprised her.

"How many of the old boys commit suicide?"

James shrugged. "A lot."

"Yeah, because they don't belong to something anymore. They don't belong to the team that held them together; held their trauma in. They get forgotten, as much as we try to include them. It's not the same. So, it's time you made the most important decision of your life. What are you going to truly belong to? If you want to belong to something, belong to the right thing."

"And what is that? What am I supposed to belong to?"

"Your family, dickhead." Lucky turned and pointed over at Peyton, who had wrapped Lily up in her arms. Cass was playing with the little girl's hands, eliciting a giggle from Lily. Peyton looked over and saw that Lucky was pointing at her. Her face softened somewhat. She seemed to know what was going on.

"Those two right there, and you, and Hermione now, they are what I belong to. The longer I send myself out there. The longer I risk life, limb and soul, the more I get torn away from them. The more chance I have of losing them. Of losing you, mate. They are what's important. Sure, I could tell you that I do it all for them. That I do it so they have a safer world to live in. Sometimes what we do does do that. But not all the time."

He sighed, and looked at his feet.

"You've got to get out while the getting's good mate. The problem is, the getting isn't good anymore. The getting has gone to shit, and it has done so at a rapid rate of knots. We are prepping to leave. Starting a new life somewhere else. Somewhere away from all this bullshit mate"

Lucky turned and unmistakeable orientated his face so it wasn't facing towards James anymore. He seemed to be angled more towards Hermione.

"You should come with us."

Hermione stared at Lucky. He glanced at her and then raised an eyebrow. "What are you looking at me like you don't agree for? Besides, you think for one minute this dickhead will go anywhere without you? Fuck, you are his world. Anyone can look at him and see that."

She gave him an unimpressed look.

"Hermione, you are one of the smartest people I've ever met. Honest, you are. But you aren't smart enough to realise that that the last part of that nice, little, not-at-all-rehearsed speech I just gave wasn't for him. It was for you."

Lucky paused, standing back up and glancing around.

He looked down at his boots as he pawed at the ground, then he looked back up.

But he wasn't looking at James, but at Hermione. His eyes bore into hers. Blue met brown.

"This is your decision."

Hermione glanced at James and found him looking at her, expectation written across his handsome features.

"Why is this my decision?"

James gave her a sad smile.

"These people are wonderful, Hermione. Truly they are. But I don't know them. I don't have that bond with them that you do. I don't feel at home here. These people are strangers to me. There is some familiarity about them, sure, I won't deny. But you are home. If you want to leave, if you want us all to go somewhere else. Somewhere we don't have to worry about fixing century's worth of problems, then let's do it. Let's go."

James took her hand between his and became fixated on her fingers as he moved them with ease between his own.

"I hoped and wished for this day for the last ten years, Hermione. I just wished the whole time to have a family. To know that I wasn't such a gigantic piece of shit in my previous life; that people actually cared for me."

His eyes darted back up to hers.

"But realistically, I got all of that from you. I don't need this world, Hermione. I don't need to be responsible for patching things up. I don't need to be 'the-boy-who-lived'. I don't need any of that shit."

He brought her hand up to his lips and offered it a light kiss.

"I want a family. I do. More than anything in the world. But I am more than happy for it to be our family. The one we make. The one we create. The one we choose."

It all flushed to her at once. Her own thoughts. Her own ideas of them escaping. Of fleeing to where they could be happy; fleeing and starting again, far away from all the drama and the expectation of this world.

Of what he had told her in bed that very morning. About how he had decided he was done.

They could do it. It could be the right move. It could be the right decision for her, for them.

But a part of her was stuck. A part of her just couldn't ignore the little part of her brain that fought against it. The little part of her brain that said it might be the right decision for this part of him.

But it wasn't the right decision for the rest of him.

"You'd always be hunted, James," she said slowly. It nearly broke her heart. "You'd never get to live a day without looking over your shoulder. Is that what you want?"

It hurt her to see him look away. For a minute, she felt like she had failed a test. Like he had kicked a ball in the air and she had completely missed it on its way back to the ground. It hurt. There were no two ways about it. It actually just hurt.

"If you want to go, we can go. But I don't think we can, until we have solved this. I want a life with you, James. I want marriage, and children, and all that stuff. I do. I want it more than anything."

She chewed on her lip as he still refused to meet her eyes.

"But we need peace. We need peace for that. For you to heal. For you to settle. For you to actually enjoy that life."

He nodded. His eyes still eluded hers in a manner that she actually hated.

"Besides. I know you. You won't ever forgive yourself if something happens to these people. To your team. If you feel like you could have done something. You'll never forgive yourself and it will eat at you for the rest of your life. You will never have peace."

He kissed her hand gently and placed it down, before nodding and pulling himself to his feet.

She took his offered hand and he pulled her up.

He was looking at Lucky.

"I guess that's that, Luck," James said, with a resignation in his tone that caused her no end of grief. "We've got some fighting to do."

Lucky's eyes, however, bore into hers. She couldn't read them. She couldn't read whether it was anger, disappointment, or betrayal that shone in them. She hoped she was projecting, but a part of her suspected that wasn't the case, and all of those emotions were present.

"We've always got some fucking fighting to do."

XxxxX

It was a faded picture. Its once bright colours were drab now, with only small bits and pieces of colour that shone through, here and there.

Important pieces, James felt, as he picked it up.

He had taken a break. He had been engrossed in long conversations with people that to him were complete strangers, but to them was an old, family member. Conversations that had left him tired, worn down and strung out.

Even the conversation with those he knew had taken there toll. Hard questions had been asked. Even harder decisions had been made.

It had all been a lot.

It was how he found himself inside. He had snuck off for a break, under the proviso of getting himself another drink. He had grabbed one, if only to sell that story, before he wandered into the living room of the eccentric building that was Ron's family home.

It was just meant to be a breather. A short break. Time for him to just recollect his thoughts. Recollect and centre himself before he made his way back out there. Back into the onslaught.

But that was before he had seen the photograph. It had almost seemed to call to him. Like it shone amongst the rest of the homely décor of the Burrow.

Maybe it was her bright green eyes. The bright green eyes of the woman in the photo who struck him as being simply beautiful. Her bright green eyes and her wonderfully loving smile that screamed out to him in a familiarity that he had only felt once before.

Her green eyes, that were his. Her green eyes that he saw every time he looked at himself in the mirror.

A memory swum in his head. A memory from this side. One that he had attributed to shock, trauma, and the possibility that he might in fact just be dying.

Hold on, Harry. Hold on.

He hadn't known the voice. It was a mother's voice. And now here he was staring into his own eyes. His one gift that he had received from her. The one thing he could see in the photograph that marked her clearly as his kin.

She was standing and smiling next to another man. If it wasn't his father, it must have been a long-lost brother. They had the same grin. Lopsided, with an element of cheek about it. He was younger. Younger in the photograph than James was now.

If it was a long-lost brother, it was a long-lost, younger brother.

They hadn't got to that part. They hadn't yet had that conversation. He knew they were dead. He knew he was an orphan. But the who's, what's and why's had not yet come up. They just hadn't had the time.

And as the wave of ever-fatiguing sadness set upon him, he realised that it was just another heavy conversation he would have to have one day, soon. Maybe tomorrow. Tomorrow was their day of conversations.

He wished he knew them. He wished he knew them, now, more than ever.

"Ah, there you are James," he turned, guiltily, as Arthur Weasley entered the living room, swilling amber fluid in a tumbler. "I was hoping to catch you alone. I think we might need to have a chat, dear boy."

"I'm sorry, Arthur, I didn't meant to pry-"

Arthur Weasley gave a generous wave of his hand as he approached.

"I didn't mean to sneak up on you like that."

"There's a bit of that going around, actually," James said, offering a weak smile.

Arthur nodded his head, then looked down at the photograph in his hand.

"Ah! The original Order of the Phoenix. Dark days. Very dark days indeed."

James looked down at the stained photograph again. He didn't miss that Arthur was giving him a long look.

"You've not seen a photo of your parents, then?" His voice had softened somewhat. It had become fatherly. James didn't know why, but he knew that it was something he was often to expect from the man. He nodded in reply.

"You'll have picked them out then?" He said, his hand coming up and resting on James's shoulder. "Wonderful thing magic. All the colour of this photograph faded with time, but not where it truly matters. Your mother's eyes. Two bright emeralds in a depth of kindness. You share them."

James looked across at Arthur. He was taller than the patriach, but not by much.

Arthur gave him a forlorn smile. "I knew your parents. Wonderful people. A tragedy, what happened. War is a truly evil thing."

James looked back at the photograph.

He heard Arthur let out a small grunt. "I'm sorry, my boy. Horrible thing to have said. You know that better than most. I hear you've been at war, even as we enjoyed our peace. A peace, James, that you won for us."

James found he couldn't speak. He had been on the receiving end of the gratitude from many members of the family who had attended today. He just didn't know how much more he could take.

"Your Godfather, Sirius Black, after whom you have named yourself." Arthur continued, pointing at a man standing next to his father. A man who was the height of 80's cool. Long hair, tattoos, a shirt with just too many buttons undone for good taste.

Arthur had a way, James noticed, of filling him in without ever being condescending to him. Arthur had just accepted that James was James, and that was that. It was something to which James held an immense amount of gratitude.

James suspected that Harry had been through something similar, upon his own return to the Wizarding World, eighteen years prior. He gave Arthur a grateful smile. Arthur gave him a wink back. He knew exactly what he was doing.

He appreciated it because it allowed James to ask for more information without having to outright ask. It allowed a self-confessed old man to tell his tales, without the social fear of feeling like he was being a bother. Like he was treating James like a child.

James found that he hoped that Harry had valued the fatherhood that this man had offered him in the past. He truly hoped he had.

"He would have found it incredibly funny. I'm sure, somewhere in the great beyond he has been enjoying himself immensely with that. James, I mean your father, James, would find the entire thing a right good laugh. Lily would pretend otherwise, but I'm sure there is no shortage of amusement amongst them."

James didn't know what to say. He knew nothing about these people. To hear them spoken about so candidly. With an element of truth and pride. Spoken by someone who knew them enough to make them actual people. Who knew them enough to bring them to life, to be more than simply names in his mind. Names with a tragic end.

He found that he didn't have the words for such feelings.

"I don't mind telling you, my boy, that if I was to let anything happen to you now, they would be mightily unimpressed. Though, I will say that with everything you have been through, the very concept of them coming back to curse us who remain, and have failed to protect you must be very slight, very slight indeed." His eyes twinkled with the joke. "But the odds are never zero."

James chuckled. He couldn't help himself.

"Which brings me, alas, my dear boy, to the important subject at hand." Arthur released James and indicated him towards a comfortable chair that sat near the crackling fireplace.

He poured him a drink and then sat down opposite him.

"As well-intentioned as Hermione, Ron, and I daresay Draco, have been in their hiding your return, I am sorry to say that it may have been a misstep. I'm sure they have filled you in that I am the Deputy Minister of Magic?"

James nodded.

"Your return, as much as it is a blessing that shall never be regretted or discounted, comes in a stressful time. I understand you have been a part of the new war that brews. The new war that is more dangerous than any we have ever faced before. Because quite simply, we don't know what we are facing."

He paused, and gazed into the fire.

"We have worked hard in your absence James. We have tried to make society more equal, more inclusive; allowing the muggle-born acceptance. But we fight hard against a core group of purebloods who are so bigoted, that they would cut off their own nose if they found out it had so much as sniffed muggle cooking."

James gave him a nod.

"When news of your return, in this state of flux, reaches the Wizengamot, I do not know what they will do. Some will call you dangerous. Others deranged. There will be those who seek your incarceration. Some who will label you a traitor, for your work in the muggle world."

He stopped and took a sip.

"We obviously need to get in front of this. We need to protect you from this. I'm not suggesting you apologise for what you have done, I had a brief conversation with Ron, I understand you have provided valuable intelligence to us. I understand that you have been very helpful. But you must lower your expectations for the rest of the world. I won't apologise for us, James, because that would imply that the bigotry of our world is excusable. It is not."

He leaned back into the chair, looking deep in thought.

"But it can be fixed, James. We can fix this. We can have peace with the muggles. I know it. I know them better than most. I know them to the point that Kingsley's election margins amongst purebloods severely tightened when he announced he was running with this 'muggle lover.' But we can continue to move forward."

James listened carefully. They were staying. They were fighting. This was information he needed. Allies he needed.

Context. He needed the context.

"The first and pressing concern is, what are we going to do with you?"

It was just then, as they were starting to plan. As they were starting to negotiate their next step that, the natural order of things occurred.

A series of pops sounded out from the backyard.

"Who in the name of Godric's gilded portrait is that?"

XxxxX

The sound of raised voices beat them to the door, as they piled out into the backyard.

They were greeted with a scene that gave James pause. Molly Weasley, one hand on her hip, the other holding a wooden spoon, which she was brandishing about as though it was her wand. It dangled dangerously in the face of a man, about her age, with receding hair. He was dressed, as were the nine newcomers, in Auror red cloaks.

The man, clearly in charge, stood easily, despite the motherly temper that blew at him. He was relaxed, if uncomfortable. James could tell from his stance.

She was speaking in a raised tone, the anger in her voice so evident as it carried across the back yard, towards them as they approached at the rush.

"- codswallop Gawain, and you know it!" She continued, her tone flitting that fine line between yelling in anger and admonishing him. "The boy has done nothing wrong, nothing! Everyone thought he was dead for ten years, and now what! Now, you've come to arrest him? Now you've come to throw him in Azkaban? For what? For surviving?"

"And how did you get through the wards?" Bill asked suspiciously. "They were strong. You would have had to have been told about this to get through them…"

Gawain went to speak.

"What is the meaning of this." Arthurs's voice carried a weight and strength that seemed strangely natural, yet outside of the norm for the man, as he strode towards the Aurors.

"Ah, Arthur." The man called Gawain turned to him. "I'm glad you're here. As I was just trying to explain to Molly…"

"He's here to arrest James." Molly cried as her husband joined her.

James slowed his steps. His eyes began to dart around.

He met Lucky. Lucky was standing with Peyton who had Lily on her hip.

He had heard it as well.

He gave Peyton's hand a squeeze, then began to move towards James.

He glanced over and saw that Hermione was striding purposely towards him. Leaving, Luna, who she had been talking to, who was moving towards Ron.

Ron for his part was standing just behind his mother. He seemed confused. At a loss. Like he didn't know what to do.

Like a man who had been serving two masters, and both had come to call.

But it was over at Draco that James glanced, next. He had moved closer. Strategically. He stood in a manner that gave him the best visuals of the unfolding situation. One that was set to get bad, fast.

Four of the Aurors, having seen James, fanned out. He found them moving to flank him. He stepped backward, so that he kept the trestle tables that had been laid out for lunch between him and at least two of the Aurors. It wasn't much, but it was at least some protection.

"Why would you be here to arrest him? Under what charge?" Arthur said, his voice still the measure of his office.

"If I might have a word in private, Deputy Minister, I can clear this all up," Gawain said. His hands held out in a placating way. James could sense it. It was politics.

"What's the play here, James?" Lucky whispered as he arrived by his side.

"Steady on," called one of the Aurors, as he approached them. He had his wand out and held by his side. "Let's not do anything silly here. No one needs to get hurt."

"The only thing silly, mate, would be if you took one more step towards him."

The man raised his wand slightly, and James drew. So, did Lucky. Their guns were out and raised in perfect synchronicity.

There was yelling, much of it indistinct, as he sighted in on the man's face.

"James!" He heard Hermione scream, but she seemed distant. Like she was irrelevant to what he was facing. Like she was a half-remembered fever dream.

She seemed as real as the voice that had told him to hold on.

But she was very real, and she was there. Her hands upon his, pulling the firearm down and away from the red-coated man.

"James, please. James, don't. Don't."

He felt the surge of anger beneath him, and the urge to push her away and sight in on the man. To fight. He wanted to fight.

Fighting was her idea after all.

Wasn't this what she wanted?

His blood was up.

"Leave it out, Hermione." He turned to her, her hands still on his pistol, keeping it pointed at the ground.

Her eyes pleaded with him.

He stared right back.

"Are these pricks Death Eaters?" Lucky said over his shoulder, his pistol lowering slightly.

Hermione broke her battle of wills and looked over at Lucky, who was slowly turning and giving them a meaningful look.

"No!" She barked out, and saw the relief in Lucky's eyes as he nodded at her. But then his pistol was back up and orientated towards the Aurors.

"Ron," she turned and screamed over her shoulder. "Stand them down!"

"Peyton, get Lily," he heard Lucky call, and glanced over at him to see him pointing to Peyton, who had scooped Lily up. She was beginning to cry, and Peyton was consoling her. She was giving him a look. One of those looks.

It was neither judgemental or angry.

It was resigned. The kind of look that a woman gives a man who is marching off to war. It said one thing, and one thing only.

Don't get hurt.

Lucky nodded at her, raising his pistol again and orientating towards one of the Aurors on the flank.

"James! Lucky! Put your guns down!"

James turned and saw Ron running over. He adopted a position between James, Lucky and the four encircling Aurors. The four that had become six, as two more of the other team had joined them, moving over to support.

"Garth! Stand down your team. No one wants violence here."

James glanced over and took in the scene. Most of the Weasleys had moved out of the way, but they were circling in around the group. Circling to stand behind James and Lucky who were quickly becoming besieged by the Aurors.

Hermione was desperately trying to get him to holster his firearm, to which he was resisting. The fact that time had seemed to stand still meant that the words she called at him seemed muted. They seemed like she was underwater. Like the words took an unnatural turn. As if she was speaking English, and he didn't understand the language.

Lucky was standing at his back. His pistol was raised and ready as he glanced around. He was sizing up his targets. Getting ready for the rapid movement of knees, hips and shoulders that would align his shots onto target.

James wasn't sure he knew a better man with a pistol than Lucky. He felt a rush of gratitude towards him for his support. He hadn't needed to be asked or told. He had just moved into action.

The Aurors had their wands drawn and were presenting in a ready stance. Like they were ready to duel. They looked like fencers, immediately before the commencement of the bout.

He knew what was happening. They were ready to go. It was ready to be on.

"Stand them down, Ron." the man James now knew to be Garth called back. "Let's not let this get ugly. If they start shooting, we will have to defend ourselves. We don't want to have to hurt anybody."

The implication of what Garth had said hung in the air as Lucky realigned to point his weapon right at Garth's face.

"You. I don't like you," he said simply. His voice no louder than usual. "This goes off, mate. You go down first. Promise you that."

Garth grimaced and aligned his wand with Lucky.

James turned and faced in on Hermione. He could see the tears staining her cheeks as she bawled at him.

"James. Please! Please no!" she was begging him. "Please, not like this. Don't do it. Please, don't do it."

The words hit him like a series of small knives. They penetrated his soul, but they strengthened his resolve. He would retreat. They would find a way out.

"Let's everyone calm down, shall we?"

A loud booming voice split the air like a crack of thunder. It affected them all. Wizard and Soldier. They lowered their weapons, whether they knew it or not as the source of the voice stepped into the middle.

He was the balding Auror with the more ornate uniform. The one called Gawain.

"Everyone take a breath. This doesn't have to go this way."

"Looks like it does," Lucky said. His voice calm, but full of resolution. "Your men seem to want it too."

Gawain gave him a look, then turned and waved at his Aurors to fully lower their wands, to which they complied, but James would have had to have been blind to miss the reluctance from a couple of them.

"Harry Potter, Order of Merlin First and Second Class," The man began, addressing James directly. "Also known as Corporal James Evan Black, VC MG MC."

James gave Hermione a look and a gentle nod. He tried to tell her that he wouldn't try anything with that nod. She didn't believe him. He couldn't blame her.

Why would she?

James stepped forward.

"You've quite the list of accomplishments, lad. We've never met. My name is Gawain Robards. I am the Chief of Aurors for the Ministry of Magic. I am your good friend, Ronald Weasley's boss."

Robards then turned and looked Ron over.

"I understand what you did, lad. I do. But you and I are going to have a long conversation about this later."

"Chief Robards," Arthur called. "Might we stand everyone down and discuss this in a more civilised fashion?"

Robards actually seemed to look slightly wishful at that.

"Would that we could, Arthur." He produced a file from inside his robes, which he magically enlarged with his wand.

"I hold several documents here." He turned to Arthur and handed him one. "The first is that by Decree of Wizengamot, The Ministry of Magic has been escalated in Security Status, to Level Two."

"You can't be serious!" Arthur said, eyeing Robards off. Robards gave him a look that said everything.

"It means that emergency powers have been given to the Minister of Magic. The Ministry itself is now considered to be on a wartime footing."

"Are we at war?" James asked. His voice called over the top of the shocked murmuring that came from the crowd. "You and I?"

Robards gave him a long look as if trying to determine whether it was hope or hatred in his response.

"No," he said. "Thank Merlin, we are not. However the Wizengamot has made the decision that based on the current threat held by the government of muggles, that the Chief Minister shall have emergency and extraordinary powers in order to combat the emerging threat, and ensure peace."

"Why was I not told?" Arthur said, his voice strong. "I am the Deputy Minister."

Robards gave him a small sigh. "An emergency session was convened following the talks yesterday. It stretched into this morning when the decision was made. For the record, Arthur, both Kingsley and myself were against this drastic action."

"Then why was it taken?" James called out.

Robards gave James what could almost be interpreted as a fatherly look. "Because of you, lad."

The silence that descended upon the crowd was deafening. He felt Hermione take a hold of his arm. Felt her fingers dig into his biceps.

"Why?" she called out.

Robards turned and looked at Arthur. "I'm sorry, Arthur. Truly I am. I don't want this."

Arthur just looked at him.

Robards produced a second page. "Which leads us to the second point."

He took a moment and cleared his throat, as if reading something he found inherently distasteful.

"As directed, so it shall be. On this day Saturday 19th September in the year 2012, I, Obedias Trekdel, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, decree the following. That Harry Potter, or anyone who once possessed that legal name, is to be apprehended upon sight by any member of the magical community. He is to be handed over to members of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement on the following charges:

High Treason;
Sedition and;
Breaching of the Statue of Secrecy.

Further, he is held responsible for planning, training and executing the attack on Thursday September 10, 2012, in which he is charged with murder, for the deaths of twenty-three members of the magical community. Furthermore he is charged with attempted murder of the thirty-nine members of the magical community who were wounded in the above named attack.

He and any who aid him shall be charged with the above.

For the capture of such a dangerous fugitive, the Ministry of Magic will excuse and forgive any use of the Unforgivable Curses."

The words rung out like the final bell on the doomsday clock. It took a moment to recover.

Though James suspected his skin may not recover from the incredible pressure that Hermione was applying to him.

"That's bullshit," Ron said. His voice was empty and hollow across the ground. "He had nothing to do with that."

Ron turned to James. "Tell them. Tell them you had nothing to do with training anyone to fight us. That you haven't been training people to kill us. To murder us. Tell me that you weren't there."

James tried to speak, but Gyrek cut him off.

"It was all in the memories of the Police, Ron. He trained them. He taught them how to fight us. They both did." He pointed at Lucky and James.

"I taught my men how to defend themselves," James replied simply.

Ron turned on him. He could see the betrayal in his eyes.

"But I did not train the men who attacked Diagon, Ron. You have to believe me."

Ron looked at him like he wanted to. But that now familiar distance was there. That something that sat in the back of his eyes that burnt with distrust. That part of him that, suspected.

"Tell me you weren't in the grey." Ron begged.

James shook his head.

Hermione spoke next. "Please, Ron. You know him. It's Harry. Harry would never do that! You know this! All those years! All those years that we went to school together, when had Harry ever done anything to hurt someone like that?"

"I can think of a time." A cold drawl rang out. They all turned as Draco Malfoy, who had been standing in front of Ginny to protect her, moved forward.

Ron turned on him, but before he could get a word out, Hermione interrupted.

"You. I trusted you!" She cried and pointed across at him. "You let them in!"

"Hermione!" Ginny yelled back. "How dare you! I don't think-"

"I did." Draco said easily, meeting Hermione's glare. "I did let them in."

James heard the Weasley's stiffen. He saw Ron turn and glare. "I trusted you too."

Draco nodded.

"Remember our job, Ron?" He drawled out, looking at him evenly. "Remember how we were to determine the status of Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort?"

Ron shut his mouth and stared at him.

"You knew Potter's status before we even started." Draco continued. "He fed you information, didn't he? Told you things. Helped us. It was intelligence we could use. It led to Peace talks."

Hermione stepped back, between James and Draco. She glanced up at James and saw the fire that burnt behind his eyes.

"You let Siorse Finnegan go." Draco's familiar drawl burnt with righteousness. "You let them go in an attempt to gain intelligence. With the information you had at the time, it was not an unfair decision."

Robards turned and looked at Ron. Ron, to his credit, met his boss's eyes evenly.

Draco continued. "We finished our audit, Ron. It wasn't just the Dark Lords and Harry Potter's essence that had been stolen. It was more than a hundred. A hundred. We are carrying out a second audit just to be sure, but this Ron, Hermione. This is big. This breach of the Department of Mysteries makes what Rookwood did look like he stole from the garbage."

Draco looked over at James. He met the man's cold grey eyes evenly.

"So, now the muggles have more than a hundred magical essences to experiment on, and with their boldness, we know that cannot be a good thing. We have escaped Death Eaters mimicking Aurors to attack and provoke the war, and we have Muggles launching large scale attacks on innocent magical folks."

Hermione felt James squeeze her hand as Draco spoke.

She looked up at him and he was staring at her. He was desperately trying to communicate something to her, but he didn't dare speak. Something he knew. Something he had found out.

"And above all of this. Harry Potter, our good friend here, may just be a Horcrux."

There was a gasp around the assembled family members. She heard whispers as they talked amongst themselves.

Later. Deal with that later.

"Harry Potter cannot fall into the hands of the Death Eaters," Draco said simply. Giving James a nod. "And since we don't know if Death Eaters and muggles are working together, the safest place for James here, is in the custody of the Ministry."

Hermione gave a snort.

"Because that worked out so well for them last time."

Draco ignored her and turned to Ron. "Ron. You know this. While he is in muggle hands, if they are working with Death Eaters he can be handed over as a bargaining chip at any time. The Dark Lord could rise again. He's safer in Ministry custody!"

"He's safer making his own choices!" Hermione bit back.

"I'm safer speaking for myself."

Hermione felt James step forward and wrap a hand around her arm. She looked up at him, but he was staring at Ron.

"Imagine if he rises again, Ron. This time, not just at the head of an army of Death Eaters, but Muggles, too. You saw what they can do. We fought them! We saw the damage a small team of them can do," Draco continued before he turned and pointed at James.

"You saw what he can do to us. Do you want to risk your family? Do you want to risk your child?"

Ron turned and looked over at Luna. Tears had streaked her face. Her compassion for the world shone through her eyes like a beacon amongst the drama.

"Ron," she whispered as she stepped forward. That stalwartness that people had always seemed surprised that she possessed. "Don't you use me as an excuse. Don't you dare use any of us as an excuse."

Ron just grimaced at her. His face would have been very difficult to read for anyone who didn't know him. But Hermione knew him.

He turned back to Draco. It looked as though he knew what to do, but found it difficult to do. Like it was the hardest decision he had ever made.

So, when he looked at her with an anguished expression. She knew he had made his decision. She knew that she was going to hate it. Even if he thought it was for the best.

"Let's take you in, James. We can get you debriefed and work out a solution. They won't hurt you. I won't let them hurt you, mate. We can fight these charges," Ron continued.

So did James it would seem, as he wrapped an arm around her waist and put her behind him.

James stepped forward with his head held high.

"I don't blame you, mate. A family is a beautiful thing." Hermione didn't like his tone. It was dull, empty. It was disappointed.

She didn't like the way he looked down at the pistol in his hand, as he produced his wand with other hand. He stared at them both as if they were two sides of the same coin, fighting for his soul.

Hermione saw it in Ron's eye. The hint of shame. Of anger. It sat there, like a block in his reasoning. It had been a long time since she had seen him like this. It had been a long time since he had been like this.

"Chief Robards, is it?" James turned to face the leader in his pristine, ornate robes. He nodded.

Hermione kept her gaze on Ron as he stood there. Saw the glimmer of hope fade. He had hoped for absolution. He had hoped that James would agree, would offer him forgiveness. That he would have the best of both worlds. But he had not got it. What he had got was potentially more hurtful.

A resigned expectation that he would take the path he took. But in agreeing, had broken all the foundation that had got them to that point.

Perhaps that hurt Ron most of all.

"I'll make you a deal," James said evenly.

"Go on."

"I'll come quietly. Put down my weapons and hand myself into your custody. But-"

"James. What the fuck?" Came from Lucky.

James glanced at Hermione. She felt torn. A part of her wanted to beg James to fight. To battle. To mount a fighting withdrawal and flee. Pull something out of his big book of lucky escapes and get clear. But she knew the chances were slim. They were outnumbered, out gunned, and James was worried about Lucky, not to mention Peyton and Lily. They were muggles, and they were exposed.

She never should have brought them here.

"But?"

"But only me."

Robards gave him a good long look. He was sizing him up.

"Lucky, Peyton and Lily are allowed to go free. Their memories to be unaltered. Hermione, Ron and anyone else who has offered me assistance, will go free. There will be no sharing of my charges. They will be exonerated, and no accusations will be thrown their way."

"James – No," Hermione called, reaching for his arm, but he pulled it away.

"Don't you fucking dare play the hero, James," Lucky shot back angrily.

"Hermione. Yes." He gave her a meaningful expression, but she missed the meaning. "Luck. You know who to tell."

Lucky gave him a filthy look. "You're fucking kidding yourself."

"I'm not. You let her know immediately, whatever happens."

Lucky growled. "Fucking fine."

"These are my terms." James turned back to Robards. "Do you accept, or do we ruin such a beautiful afternoon with bloodshed?"

Robards gave a nod. "I accept. For the record, Potter, I'll make sure you're kept safe. This is a balls up from the start. You'll be kept in protective custody and have full legal counsel. The muggles will go free. They will be unmolested."

"Sir-" Garth called. "If I might-"

"You might not, Garth. The peace agreement we have with the muggles is the temporary prevention of memory alteration. You will not impede these muggles. They are, if I'm not mistaken, agents of the muggle government and will be allowed to go free. You touch them, and you risk open war."

James nodded. He turned to Hermione. "Please, make sure they are okay. Please. No memory shit. You've no idea what it's like to lose it all, Hermione. Please."

Hermione stared at him for a good long while. She had zero interest in letting them have him. She had zero interest in seeing him go before trial.

"James – I -"

"Promise me, Hermione."

She reached up and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. "I promise."

Satisfied, he turned and faced his fate. "Then we have a deal, Chief."

He turned and gave his wand to Hermione, before removing the magazine from his pistol. Then, with a fluid motion he cocked the pistol and caught the round, placing it back in the magazine and placing both items on the floor.

He then raised his arms to either side.

"I submit to your custody.."

Robards gave him a solemn nod.

"Harry Potter. I hearby place you under arrest." He then added in a tone that couldn't hide his own disagreement. "This, by Warrant of the Wizengamot. You shall be held in custody, bail refused, awaiting your trial. I now warn you, that anything you do say, or action you choose to make, shall be recorded and used in evidence against you in your trial. What say you?"

James then gave the man a look.

"Black, James. Corporal. SC3478290"

Hermione turned and looked at him. His jaw was set and his face even. He was calm. Controlled.

It surprised her had expected anger. Indignation. Cold fury.

She hadn't expected this calm that he radiated.

The Aurors looked confused.

Garth began to approach him. "You've been charged with Treason, Potter. You know that right? We need to get this straightened out."

"Black, James. Corporal. SC3478290."

Hermione heard Lucky let out a long, frustrated breath.

"What's this about?" Garth turned to Hermione, who turned to Lucky with a raised eyebrow.

"Black, James. Corporal. SC3478290."

Lucky turned to Hermione. "You know what this means." He gave her a pointed look.

For once, her great mind, long an asset, seemed to fail her and she looked confused.

Lucky shook his head and turned to the approaching Auror.

"You have no idea what you've done. Do you, mate?"

The Auror looked at him, confused.

"Black, James. Corporal. SC3478290"

Lucky shot James a dark look.

"Your boss over there told us that you were acting in a war footing. Prior to a legal declaration of war."

Garth nodded.

"Which means that you may try and arrest him using criminal offences, but, since he swore an Oath to Vicky to defend the Realm all those years ago, he's a subject of the British Crown."

Robards stepped forward, his expression thoughtful.

"So, what you've done, effectively, is arrest him on criminal charges, despite the fact that he very clearly sees himself as Prisoner of War."

The reality of the facts started to crash in on Hermione.

"So, mate. Whether hostilities have been declared or not, he is subject to the Geneva Convention. Which means you will treat him accordingly. Also, under our law, it's pretty hard to charge a man with sedition, high treason and breaching the statue of secrecy, or whatever it was, when the man has sworn fealty to the Crown of Great Britain. His defence is an easy one. He was acting in good faith as a soldier. He has a name, a rank and a serial number. He therefore cannot be charged as a spy, as he is an enlisted member of the British Army, and has worked in good faith for that government. As to the murder charges, good luck proving he was there. Good luck proving he pulled the trigger. He's got an alibi as solid as any."

Hermione turned and faced Lucky. He gave her a look, then he glanced over at James.

"Black, James. Corporal. SC3478290"

"So here's my advice, Chief. You best be running this by the British Attorney General and the Foreign Office. Because, you're about to have some legal issues."

Hermione sighed. "Lucky, magical law allows no precedence for muggle law. The Geneva Convention does not apply."

Lucky snorted. "I look forward to you explaining that to the British Crown. It will be great trying to diplomacy your way out of that little situation. What was it you just said? 'These are agents of the muggle government. If you touch them you risk open war'. Well so is he. He is an agent of the muggle government. A highly respected one at that. I'm sure the next sit down between governments will go just a fucking treat.

'We arrested one of your soldiers, on treason charges, because he is alleged to have worked against us. Which soldier? Oh yeah, the fucking Victoria Cross awardee."

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment. She realised immediately who she was. Who they had been referring to.

Mrs Jones.

This was going to cause issue. This was going to give lawyers headaches for months.

Arthur stepped forward and stood next to Robards.

"This is going to make things worse. I don't understand why the Wizengamot would do this? Surely, they must know the legal implications. The fallout?"

Robards turned to Arthur. "I'm starting to suspect, Arthur, that members of our beloved Wizengamot may want this war more than we thought."

"Black, James. Corporal. SC3478290"

The ramifications began to bounce around in her head. She couldn't help but feel like it might have been a set up. Someone wanted James to get arrested. Someone wanted to ratchet up the tension that step further.

But why? Why did people actually want war between the peoples. How could it help? The last war was so bad that the wizarding world had been too horrified to actually record all the details. It was something that had frustrated her since she first entered the world. The Separation had caused so much trauma, and yet everyone was happy to not think about it. To not remember it?

She ran her hands over her face. She just wanted to be at home. At home with a mug of tea and sitting on the couch with James. She didn't care if they read, watched a stupid movie, or just hung out. She just wanted to feel him alive and well and happy.

But again, it was not to be.

It seemed like it was never to be.

She should have just taken Lucky's advice. They should have left.

She felt the headache forming behind her eyes.

The blood rushed to her ears as the stress of the afternoon washed over her.

A rushing of blood that sounded like a faint whistling. Like a kettle going to boil.

A kettle that was getting louder.

Which is then the startling realisation hit her.

The whistling wasn't in her mind. It wasn't a manifestation of errant emotions.

It was real.

She looked up in time to see a ball of purple flame.

And it was coming right for them.

XxxxX

"James!" She screamed and dove for him. He spun on his heel just in time to see the purple flame hurtling towards him at incredible speed.

He also saw Hermione sprint the several steps towards him and tackled him to the ground just as the flame shot past them.

It missed them by the narrowest of margins, and she felt her hair get blown aside by the disturbance of air as it rushed by.

There was panic around, as everyone did a myriad of different things at once.

Lucky glanced at James and saw that Hermione had helped him, before he went tearing off to his own family. He saw Charlie Weasley, standing near to Neville, who had his wand out and was watching Charlie's back, as he pointed at them and then towards the house.

Lucky felt a rush of anger. He just wanted to fucking shoot who ever had just taken a potshot at James, but even he saw that his family was the priority.

The aurors were fanning out, they had adopted myriad defensive postures in all different directions. Lucky saw the haze of their magical shields as they shone in front of them.

For Ron, he had turned and pulled Luna behind him, before producing his own shield.

"Where did that come from?" barked Robards, it was greeted with silence.

The rest of the family were alternating between protecting each other, and ushering the children into the safety of the Burrows, with its magical reinforcement.

For Hermione, she ended up on top of James. He looked up at her in shock, then gave her a smile of gratitude.

Which is when she heard a cry that made her blood run cold.

"It's coming back around!"

She tore her eyes from James's and glanced over at where the purple flame had gone. But it wasn't gone. It had turned around in a great big arc and was coming right back for them.

"Fuck!" James called and wrapped his hand around Hermione. There was no mistaking the trajectory. It was spinning around and coming right for them.

Fuck is right, if inarticulate.

It shot at them, and Hermione raised her wand to attempt to cast something, but she was thrown off as James began rolling them away.

The purple flame ricochet off the ground where they had just been lying. It flew straight over James who had taken the position on top of her. She watched him duck his head at the last minute to avoid it being taken clean off by the purple flame as it flew away.

"How is it doing that?" she heard Ron call out.

"No idea!" A call came back. One of the Aurors, likely.

"Ron!" Hermione yelled at him as James pulled himself, and then her to his feet. "Dolohov! The Department of Mysteries!"

Ron gaped at her for only a moment then nodded.

Dolohov's cruel smile flashed into her mind as he wordlessly cast the spell at her. The spell that left a scar on her chest, one she still carried to this day. It had the same look to it, there was no denying it. But she had never seen a spell follow them around.

It was like a bludger. A certain bludger. Dobby's bludger.

Hermione turned back to James. He gave her a look.

Then he whispered a single word that only she could here.

"Sorry."

He took off running. Sprinting, actually. Full pelt, across the lawn and away from the house.

It was an act that confused her. Left her wondering.

Why was he running?

"James!" She called out as she took off after him. "Wait!"

He didn't slow. He just turned over his shoulder and yelled back at her.

"Don't! We have to see who it's after!"

She faltered in her step and turned to see the flame as it turned in a great arc and spun around.

It shone against the blue sky. A bright purple flame. It turned and orientated itself.

Straight towards James.

"James! Look out!" She screamed as the purple flame picked up speed in its deadly journey towards him.

It was catching him, spinning in the air as it angled towards him.

"James!" she screamed. He wasn't looking at her. He was looking desperately over his shoulder as the flame shot towards him.

It was then, with cold realisation, that it occurred to her what he might be doing.

That fucking idiot!

She took aim, and cast a tripping jinx on him.

It sent him sprawling, face-first into the ground. Just in the nick of time, too, as the purple flame shot over his head.

"I think it's at me!" he called out to her.

"You think?" Hermione screamed back as she went tearing over to him. "What do you think you are doing!"

He didn't reply however, as he clambered to his feet and his head tracked the purple flame as it spun around in the air for another go.

"Protego Maxima!" Hermione screamed and a shot of shimmering light flew from the end of her wand.

She watched as the purple ball of flame wheeled around and made contact with the shimmering shield she had cast.

It was like watching a cannonball strike the surface of a calm lake in slow motion. The purple flame pushed through, slowly at first, and then with more speed.

And again, it went cannoning towards James.

She arrived at his side just as he was bending his knees. He looked like he was getting ready to step it. Like he was playing dodgeball with a purple ball of death.

She grabbed his arm and pictured his home, spinning on her heel. But nothing happened.

They were still there.

Anti-apparation wards.

Thinking quickly, she summoned one of the tables to her. It flew towards her as she desperately willed it on. The ball of flame was getting closer and closer as she gripped James by the hand. She felt him grip her back just as tightly.

"Hermione…" he said, his voice full of warning and fear. "Hermione, go. Run! This has to run out of steam, eventually."

"I'm not leaving you James! Not again! Not like last time! We are not separating!"

She willed it. With everything she had she willed the table to come closer.

And it arrived, just as the purple flame did.

It blew the trestle table into smithereens. Sending pieces of wood as deadly shrapnel everywhere. She was fortunate enough to remember to cast a shield charm, and only sustained minor cuts and scrapes.

James wasn't so lucky, and Hermione had enough time to see the nicks and cuts on his face and hands from the explosion.

She closed her eyes, expecting it to strike her.

The next thing she knew, she was being pulled backwards to the ground.

Her eyes, still closed tightly, still made out the brightness of the purple flame as it shot by, mere inches from her face.

Her eyes opened. He was back on top of her, his eyes boring deeply into hers.

She took a moment, and only a moment, as it was all they had, to look at him, and she could see the myriad of nicks and cuts on his face and hands from the explosion.

"What is this thing!" she growled in frustration as James pulled her back to her feet. She looked up and it was coming around for another pass. Several Aurors she could see were searching the grounds with their wands raised.

Several sent shields at the errant ball, but they did nothing. Less than nothing, to the flame as it turned around with single-minded purpose and again began its path towards James.

Please, no. Please! I can't lose him, now. Not now.

She summoned as much of her strength as she could. Everything. Every bit of love and hope and happiness she had felt with James, and with Harry over the course of her life. She summoned that all as the cost of failure. And she cast again.

The ball had levelled out at their chest and rushed towards them at incredible speed.

"Protego Maxima!" she screamed.

The shimmer of light that burst from the end of her wand contained all of her hopes and dreams. All her desperation to make up for lost time. Everything, everything she wanted in her life came out of her wand in a shield.

The ball held. The shimmering shield held the ball in place and she felt the sweat beading on her forehead. She felt it as she poured all she could into the shield.

But despite it all. All the power of everything. All she had. The spell was too strong. It squeezed its way through and shot towards James once again.

He tensed next to her.

She felt his hopelessness as the shield failed. Felt his desperation. She even felt his love.

She grabbed the pendant and felt his heart beat at speed. Felt its familiarity. It's warmth. It's knowing existence.

With that. She stepped in front of him. She watched as the purple flame tore towards him and she closed her eyes.

She had been hit by this spell before. She had survived.

She closed her eyes and she hoped to everything that she would open them again.

XxxxX

"I'm sorry."

It was a whisper, right in her ear. She could barely hear it over the roar of the wind around the purple flame that shot towards her.

The next thing she knew she was spun around and planted back on her feet. Her eyes flew open and they saw green. Just two sparkling emerald eyes that seemed to bore down into her very soul.

It was then she realised what he had done.

She went to push him aside. But she couldn't. In that split second she had, she was not strong enough. There was no time for her to pull back her wand and cast a spell. There wasn't any more time to push him to the ground, or pull herself around.

He had waited and timed it perfectly. His hand was clasped tightly around her wrist. She couldn't cast on him even as she tried.

He was jolted into her suddenly. A push, which nearly brought them both tumbling to the ground, except for when he threw out a foot and caught himself. He steadied himself for a moment, as the air seemed to escape from his body.

He grunted.

He had been hit.

"James," she said softly, trying to catch his eyes, but unable to do so. His grip had slackened on her and he took another stumbling breath. His balance seemed to be out of whack.

"Mmmm," he hummed. Almost thoughtful. Almost as thought he had taken a bite of a foreign dish and was trying to determine exactly what he thought of the flavour.

"James!" she cried, more urgently now.

He turned his face towards her and offered her a gentle smile.

"I'm okay." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "I'm okay."

It was a lie. An obvious one. Made even more so as his feet gave way and he slumped forward. She darted forward to catch him, and she brought him to the ground. Brought him down so they were sitting.

"James, look at me."

He followed her command.

His mouth had slackened somewhat, and he blinked in confusion as he took her in.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry I ruined your birthday."

When he finished speaking, he took a breath. Like the very act had been as strenuous as a hundred metre sprint. Like he was suddenly out of oxygen.

"Oh, James," she hummed and took his face into her hands. "You didn't. You're fine. You'll be fine. Now, I need you to…"

She was interrupted by a small cough that escaped him. A small cough that jettisoned a mist of pink that splattered down her dress.

"James!" she cried.

He looked at her, appalled. Terrified. Like he was embarrassed for what he had done.

"Lie down."

He nodded and began to lean over backwards, when she started to notice his shirt. It was white, under his overshirt. White, except for a growing red stain in the centre of his chest.

He coughed again, sending fine mists of blood spraying on his clothes.

He looked down at himself. Seeing the blood stain as it expanded from his chest.

He began to run his hand over his trousers, wiping the blood that had dripped there in.

Suddently he looked at her desperately.

"The blood, Hermione!" James cried, reaching out to take a hold of her. "The jeans! It's all in the jeans."

He wasn't making sense.

"James," she tried desperately to let herself go into healer mode. Like he was just one of the many patients she had helped in her time. Like he was just another person with spell damage.

But she couldn't. Her hand started to shake, but she couldn't tell if it was hers or his, as he started to tremble all over. He started to convulse and shake.

"It's all in the blood and the jeans." He gasped. Then his voice feel silent, though his mouth continued to move in repetition of the mantra he had started.

All she could do, in this moment of crisis was start reaching for her wand.. Her wand which she could not find. Which eluded her. She must have dropped it.

"James!"

There was a scramble next to her and Hermione looked up into the comforting faces of the two women who had arrived by her side.

Peyton, who was busy ripping over James's shirt to inspect the wound, and Cass, who was already casting a series of diagnosing charms on James. Small orbs of varying colours appearing above him.

She was disturbed by how many were flashing a deep scarlet.

"He's having a seizure, Hermione." Peyton said, her voice professional and firm. "I need you in the game."

Hermione closed her eyes and filled her lungs with as much air as she could. She let her chest heave as she did, trying to feel as close to bursting as possible.

Then she exhaled, a short sharp shot of air. She reached for the pendant, and felt his heart beating. It was fast, incredibly so.

But weak. Very weak.

Too weak.

She reached around in the grass until her hands grasped her wand.

Then she went to work.

XxxxX

Hello,

And welcome to Chapter Twenty Four of 'Remember What I Forgot'.

Oh, dear.

Well done to everyone who felt a sense of foreboding about the birthday party. It didn't end so well, did it. Still on track to be done at thirty. So, the ball keeps a rolling.

Once again, my apologies for the length of the chapters. They just keep growing. Believe me when I say they are a nightmare to edit. So I don't know how LancashireWitch does it. She has all my most humble thanks for her hard work. For keeping me honest. For her tireless and hard work. She still hasn't posted. The bullying continues.

As for the end of this chapter, I one hundred percent considered one of the cliffhangers I could have left it, but I like this part the most. I was tempted to leave it off when Hermione was about to be hit, but I decided to continue you on. This felt like the natural conclusion for this chapter.

An absolute and genuine thanks to all of you who have commented and left reviews on my work. You are actually fantastic and it means the world to me. Truly, you have no idea how good it feels to see people take the time to leave a note on my work about their thoughts. It makes it easier to keep writing, that's for sure. So my truest thanks to all of you who do so.

And to you who leave kudos, favourite or follow the work. That means a lot to me too!

As for the next chapter, I don't know when it will be posted. I've been very short on time lately, but I'm hoping that will change soon and you don't have to wait too long. The length of the chapters definitely adds to the length of the posting time, so I do apologise for that.

Happy reading. Thanks for your time!

P.S: Special shout out to my friends on the Sanctuary Discord, for all your 'encouragement' (threats) for the times where I have contemplated taking a prolonged break from writing. You guys truly keep me going. Under threats of serious bodily harm.