Lily sat on the edge of their bed, too dejected to say anything. The room was silent. Even Harry was watching his mother's expression with caution from where he sat on his father's lap.

"Well... at least you know she's not dead?" James offered.

Lily said nothing.

"I'm sorry, Lily."

Still, she said nothing. Instead, she looked down at the paper in her hand one more time and read the letter slowly.

12:30PM,

Do not assume that because we want nothing to do with your world, we are cold-hearted enough to not care if you are alive. We are, of course, pleased that you are well. But we cannot help but think that if you hadn't gotten involved in this political activism nonsense that was apparently so much more important than your family, you wouldn't have endangered the lives of your loved ones. You brought your misfortune on yourselves.

The unorthodox politics of your people is of no concern to us. If we'd wanted our lives uprooted by freaks and magicians, we'd have let you know. As it is, we want to be left alone. We are normal, hard-working taxpayers. We deserve our peace and hope that you can understand that.

Yours Sincerely,

V & P Dursley.

"Lily?"

Lily sat up straight and closed her stinging eyes. "Vernon wrote this."

"Undoubtedly," agreed James, slowly prising the letter from her fingers.

Lily's shoulders gave a lurch. "She still let him send it."

Lily felt the mattress shift as James placed Harry on the pillows and then clambered over to Lily. He put his arms around her shoulders. "I reckon she didn't have much say in the letter at all. You know what Vernon's like. Has to get his own way. If he doesn't, he turns purple and starts frothing at the mouth."

Lily took the letter from James' hands, scrunched it up in her fist and tossed it onto the floor. Never had Lily been so angered by Vernon. Not when she was banned from their wedding, nor when he forbade Petunia from meeting newborn Harry.

"I know."

"Tuney might've actually spoken to me if it hadn't been for him."

"Maybe."

"He named my nephew Dudley."

"Bastard."

Lily reluctantly smiled. "I used to be a bit frightened of him until you came along."

James lifted his head from her shoulder and looked at her. "How come?"

"He was mean and manipulative and I was always outnumbered," Lily smiled wider. "Then you came along, and every time you out-witted him, he'd do this funny spluttering thing like he was about to shoot lava from his ears."

James laughed. "He does resemble a volcano," he unwrapped his arms from around Lily and laid back on the pillows beside Harry. "But you shouldn't be scared of him."

"I know," she smiled warmly.

"If anything, he should be scared of you. You can turn him into a parsnip."

"Oh, I'm not sure about that," said Lily. "I could manage a rose-bush or perhaps a potato but not a parsnip. That's far too complicated."

James shrugged. He then looked up at Lily seriously. "You saved the world. People like Dursley should be trembling at your feet."

Lily's smile faded. "No, I didn't. It was luck. Freak magic."

"Well, we must've done something right, otherwise we wouldn't be here. Imagine if we'd gone to Headquarters that night, or fallen asleep, or-"

"Well if the links can be that tenuous, anyone could've saved the world," said Lily.

James smiled. "Sounds nice."

Lily rolled her eyes. "It wasn't meant to. I mean it."

Silence fell between them, both knowing that the other person was thinking about Halloween night. Again. Lily did this often. She knew James knew when she was doing it, too. She could feel her eyes on him when she winced: an involuntary reaction to the memory which hurt her like the jab of a pin.

"That stuff's all over. Finished," said James quickly. "Getting on with our lives is the hot ticket now."

Lily sighed. "How are we supposed to move on? There are Death Eaters still out there."

James sat up. "We need to take it one step at a time," he said sensibly. "I was thinking of going to the Ministry, you know, look for work or something."

Lily turned to look at him. "Again? What kind of work?"

James looked away, and shrugged. "I'll think of something."

"Are you sure?" asked Lily.

"I'm sure," he said, as though it was obvious. "We need the money."

Lily rolled her eyes at him. "You know that's not true. We have enough money to last us until this 'war heroes' mania dies down." Lily shifted her weight uncomfortably. "And... we've got your father's money."

"Lily..." James groaned loudly, falling back down onto the pillows again. "We already talked about-"

"I know, I know, that money's for Harry," she nodded, holding up her hands in defense. "But there's loads of it, James. I mean... loads... and we never anticipated this. We wouldn't have to rake it all out, we could just skim the top of it and there would still be thousands left for Harry..."

"No," said James firmly. "We'll use the money we've got in our vault for a new house when the coast is clear. Anything else we need, I'll buy with my wages."

"Where's this work ethic popped up from so suddenly?"

"The sooner the wizarding world see that we're just plodding along with our lives like the rest of them, the sooner we'll be able to go out in public without worrying about being ambushed. Plus, I don't want Harry growing up thinking that he can just sit on his laurels for the rest of his life because his father's got a fortune stashed away for him."

Lily blinked. "You've really thought about this."

"Yep."

"Why didn't you mention it before?"

"Dunno. It was a bit early, maybe."

Lily sighed. "I suppose you're right."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"Actually..." James continued. "I lied before. I've already thought of what I want to do."

Lily looked at him, intrigued. "What do you want to do?"

James took her hand, and stroked it thoughtfully. In a sense, she knew what was coming. She could never see James as someone who tolerated a job just to earn a living. Docility did not suit him.

"I want to apply for the Auror programme."

Yes, she'd felt it coming. But a small part of her (a part that she hated) hoped James would give up the idea.

"You despise the Aurors," she reminded him.

"I don't, really. They were just doing what we were doing, but we were better at it."

Lily raised an eyebrow and smirked at him. "Oh, so you're already over-qualified?"

James smiled. "I think I'd be a good one."

Lily looked down at her hand which James was stroking. "It's... scary."

"What is?"

"Aurors lose limbs."

James shrugged again. "The bad ones do."

Lily rolled her eyes. "James..."

James scooched closer to her, so that his face was inches from hers. "I need to do it. The world's crap and I want to be a part of fixing it."

Lily nodded. "I suppose I'd be a bit of a shit wife if I didn't support you doing this."

"Course you wouldn't. I'd be scared if you were applying."

Lily smiled. "You're always going to crave excitement, James. I know you need this."

"It's not about the excitement," he said. "It's more than that."

"I know," she said honestly. "I know what's going on in there," she tapped his forehead. "And I love you for it. I'm going to support you through this. I just... I'm going to miss you."

"I'm not," said Lily quickly. "I like that you want to do this. I'm happy that we're moving on. I just... I'm going to miss you."

"What?" asked James. "I'll be back by dinner."

"No, you idiot," Lily laughed. "I'm going to miss having you around the house. We've been in hiding together for months. It's going to be odd being on my own."

"You won't be alone. You've got Harry."

Lily looked at her son and smiled. "Yeah..." she bent down and kissed Harry on the cheek. Unable to resist his soft baby skin, she kissed him again and again. "You hear that, Harry?" she asked between kisses. "You're the new man of the house. We don't need Daddy anymore."

James joined in, rolling over to blow a raspberry on Harry's neck, causing him to squeal. "Yes you do," he grinned at Lily.

Lily smiled, this time placing a gently kiss on her husband's lips. "Yes. We do."

oOo oOo oOo

James met Remus on the corner of St James' square at the gates to the park. It was still strange watching muggles walk past him without a second glance. Millicent Bagnold, Scrimgeour and Dumbledore had warned him so often of the reaction his appearance would cause in wizarding public that he'd become tense around large crowds these past few months. His instinctive reaction was to stand completely still, as though he were under the invisibility cloak. But he didn't have his invisibility cloak anymore... nor had he disguised himself, which caused Remus great anxiety.

"Prongs," called Remus from James' left. He turned and saw his friend walking up to him, slightly out of breath, wearing a beige suit. "Are you sure about this?"

"Course I am," said James confidently. He looked Remus up and down. "You're looking dapper today, Moony! Nice sharp suit, combed hair..."

"Stop right there," Remus growled. "I always wear this to the office. I'm expected to dress-"

"Like a berk?"

"Professionally."

"Right, right... is that cologne?"

"It's soap, James."

"Right."

The pair walked to the employees' entrance to the Ministry quickly, a pace set by a jittery Remus, who seemed to get more nervous with each step.

"You're not going to do anything stupid, are you, James? Just keep your head down and nobody will notice you."

"I'm not going to do anything stupid."

"And you're just speaking to the Minister, no-one else."

"Moony, relax. I know what I'm doing."

"Does Lily know what you're doing?"

"She knows I'm going to the Ministry, yeah, but-"

"Does she know who you're going to speak to? And why? Or that you're not in disguise?"

"No."

"Oh Merlin..."

"Moony, what the hell's wrong with you?!"

"Oh nothing, nothing, I'm just a tiny bit anxious that you'll pull a James Potter stunt and jeopardise my entire career."

"Do you honestly think I'd do that to you? That's low, Remus. Very low."

Remus stopped in the street and squared up to James, his nose inches from his, the look of a mad serial killer blazing in his eyes. "James Potter, you were single-handedly responsible for me failing my Herbology N.E.W.T"

"That was not my fault," James growled menacingly. "They should've had better security for exam rooms."

Remus stalked off, before whipping back round and grabbing James by the collar. "If you embarrass me, James, I will end you."

"No you won't."

"It's a full moon this Friday."

"So that's why you're so hysterical..."

They did not speak as they entered the Ministry. It was teaming with people in suits and bowler hats, carrying umbrellas and newspapers and large folders of files and briefcases. James had none of these. He already stuck out. He was even wearing a denim jacket, a tell-tale sign of tourism in the Ministry. Under Remus' hard gaze, James bowed his head and kept walking as mechanically as the Ministry employees. It was loud and stank of corporal graft. With his glasses tucked firmly into his trouser pocket and his blurred vision fixed at the floor, he kept bumping into every other person who crossed him.

"What are you playing at?" hissed Remus.

"I. Can't. See."

"Pretend you can see!"

Walking normally through the hoards of Ministry workers was like navigating a mind-boggling game. It seemed like an hour had past when Remus grabbed James by the elbow and dragged him through a doorway. Though James did not look up, he could tell that there were few people around. Remus brought him to a stand-still. He heard the metallic shunt of lift doors and relaxed.

"You can put your glasses back on now," said Remus. James whipped his glasses out as quick as a flash and nearly poked his eye out as he hurried to put them on his face. His head had been starting to ache.

"Minister for Magic and Support Staff," said a velvety female voice. The doors rattled open and James recognised the small empty lobby instantly. A round room, several doors, and Isabelle Sommier sitting at the desk in the middle.

"You took your time," said Isabelle before looking up at them. James blanched. She even spoke like Marlene.

"I didn't know we had an appointment," said James, looking sideways at Remus.

"You don't," said Isabelle. "But I'm still going to let you in. She's a bit over-worked at the moment but I'm sure she'll see you."

"Won't you get in trouble?" asked Remus.

Isabelle shuffled some papers around. "I'm trying not to think about the consequences."

"You've been spending too much time with Sirius," said Remus. "Alright, James, I'm off."

James gave a non-committal farewell nod and headed for the door behind Isabelle. "Is she angry with me?" he asked as Isabelle stood up.

"Not that I'm aware," said Isabelle with furrowed eyebrows, reaching for the door handle. "Why would she be?"

"Most figures of authority usually are."

Isabelle laughed. "I don't see why they would be!"

"Huh?"

Isabelle looked at him in confusion. "You killed You-Know-Who," she stated obviously. "How could anyone be angry at you?"

James recalled his earlier conversation with Lily, and how he found her modesty puzzling, after everything they had done to deserve the rewards. Now, he understood. Why did things have to be different?

Isabelle twisted the handle and opened the door. "James Potter, Madam."

"What?" James heard Millicent Bagnold squawk from inside the office. He didn't enter. Bagnold came into sight from the other side of the room and looked between the two of them, utterly bewildered. "Potter, what are you doing here? Isabelle, what's going on?"

"He said it was urgent, Madam."

"I don't give a Hippogriff's fart what Potter said," she turned sharply to look at James. "What do you want?"

James blinked, his mouth agape. "Um... to talk. If that's okay."

"Talk?" she turned to Isabelle. "Did anyone see him come in?"

Isabelle looked to James for an answer, looking lost.

"No-one," said James. "No-one that I know of."

Bagnold rolled her eyes and glared at the ceiling. "Come in then, Potter. Isabelle, you and I are having words later on." She turned on her heels and marched back into her office.

James followed Bagnold, leaving Isabelle wide-eyed and fearful-looking in the lobby. With a sheepish frown, he closed the door.

Bagnold's office was much the same as it had been the last time he'd visited, except with an impossibly large amount of extra paperwork. Foot-high stacks of folders and papers stood on her desk and around the floor, pictures of snarling Death Eaters and grinning deceased muggle-borns splayed out on the floor. James scanned each picture as he walked around them to her desk, trying to find Marlene. He wasn't sure why he was looking for her.

"I'm not happy about this, Potter," said Bagnold, clambering over a fallen pile of paperwork and into her seat. "You can see that I'm swamped. I don't have time for chit chat."

"Oh, it's not chit chat," said James, skillfully tip-toeing in between the files on witches and wizards and sliding into the seat opposite her. "There are one or two things I need to discuss with you."

Looking bored already, she waved her hand. "Go on then."

James, taken aback, cleared his throat. "Um, well, the first thing is that we're moving house tomorrow."

It didn't peak her interest, but he could see that Bagnold was making note of it. "Okay..." she nodded slowly. "Where to?"

James swallowed. "Ted Tonks' house."

"Oh, Ted's fine, Ted's..." her eyes widened. "Ted?" she leaned forward. "Andromeda Black's husband?"

"I don't think she goes by that name anymore."

"Oh God!" Bagnold fell back in her chair and rubbed her face. "Potter, of all the homes to-"

"We're not staying with them, we're sort of... renting an outhouse that they own. It's our own house. It just happens to be in their back garden. They're are enchantments on it and everything."

Bagnold had started rubbing her temples. "Fine. Whatever. What's next?"

Again, James was taken aback by her bluntness. "Um..." But he knew this act. Minerva McGonagall used it when he was at school. Both formidable women, both impatient with James Potter, both wanting to get rid of him. Well, Bagnold was not getting rid of him this time.

"Actually," began James, leading back in his chair and folding his arms. The gesture made her raise an eyebrow. "I'm unhappy about something."

"Oh, summon the prophet! Woe betide anyone who feels joy today! James Potter is unhappy."

"Don't."

His tone unnerved her.

James had not realised just how chaotic his world had become. It suddenly occurred to him that he knew nothing of the fates of the Death Eaters he had spent years fighting. The Ministry, the Order and Hogwarts were all so eager to see normality again that nobody had stopped to inform James on what was happening... what was the score... where were they now?

"I want to know why Severus Snape isn't currently locked up in a cell in Azkaban."

Bagnold did not move. She did not even blink. "He's not a Death Eater."

"You don't sound too surprised that I asked about him."

Bagnold shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Every name in the wizarding world has been uttered in the past year by someone as though it were a dirty word. I'm fed up of it."

James grimaced. "This isn't just another accusation, Minister. I know Snape. He's one of them."

Bagnold stood up and walked around the desk. "This wouldn't be your first wild accusation, would it, Potter? No. First, you accused... who was it... Alastor Moody?"

James cringed. "I was just a kid when I suspected him."

"Then you accused Lucius Malfoy-"

James whipped round. "You still haven't arrested-?"

"I don't need you to tell me how to run my Ministry," Bagnold snapped. "We gave Malfoy a fair trial. We interrogated him and searched his property. We found nothing, therefore we had no grounds upon which to arrest him."

"You're joking. You've got to be joking."

"And now you're accusing Severus Snape, who's one of Dumbledore's most respected allies."

James stood up just as Bagnold reached the door. "Allies?" he repeated in a low voice.

Bagnold turned round slowly to face him. "Not all Slytherins are bad people, Potter. And not all of your precious Gryffindors were heroes either."

James felt his entire mind fog with dark smoke. "I know that."

Bagnold didn't seem to understand. Nevertheless, she twisted the door handle. "You should go, Potter. We're done here."

James stood up as Bagnold opened the door. She watched him come towards her, then brush her shoulder as he left the room. Just before she shut the door, he turned and looked sideways at the floor by her feet. "No word on Pettigrew?"

It seemed natural now to call Peter by his last name, as he would a Death Eater. An enemy. But the sad fact of the matter was that "Pettigrew" was once a man James had trusted with the lives of his wife and son.

"I'm afraid not," replied Bagnold solemnly.

James nodded. He could've easily told her that Pettigrew had most likely assumed a less conspicuous form of a rat, but he would in turn have to give up his own secret. "It'll be difficult to catch him."

"Go home, Potter. Stop worrying." She remained stern until she shut the door on him, but James could've sworn he saw something like pity in her eyes.

James groaned.

"What?" asked Isabelle.

"I was meant to ask her about a job. Now she hates me."

"A job?" Isabelle laughed nervously. "I hope it's not my job you're after," then she sighed sadly. "Merlin knows I'm getting fired this evening..."

"I don't want a job as a secretary," said James unthinkingly, saying the word as though it were a curse. Isabelle balked. "I want to do something purposeful. Something cool. I was thinking of applying to become an auror."

"An auror?" echoed Isabelle with mock awe. "Wow, they certainly are purposeful and cool."

James glanced at her. She was clenching her jaw. "Well, it's just as well you didn't ask the Minister for a job as an auror or she would've flayed you alive."

"Why's that?"

"She'd not in charge of the Auror department, obviously. You need to send an application to Rufus Scrimgeour, then you wait for a reply, then you write to apply for an initiation course, then you-"

"But if I ask Bagnold, she might be able to fast track me through the process."

Isabelle blinked. "Why? Because you're James Potter?"

"What? No. Because she knows about my role in the war and-"

"There's not a single person left in the wizarding world that doesn't know about your role in the war, James. I'm sure that if you applied to the Auror department like everyone else who needs a job, they'll snap you up straight away."

"Er... thanks."

"Then you certainly won't have to degrade yourself by getting a job as a secretary."

Isabelle sat back down at her desk and went back to reading reports without a single word.

"Right... I'll be going then."

"Sure. Bye," she uttered without looking up from her desk.

James waited. Still, she did not move.

"Remus said that you'd escort me out."

"You're a brave boy, I'm sure you can find your way out."

James narrowed his eyes at her. "It's less about getting lost, it's more about being mobbed by photographers."

"Of course. Of course."

She stood up, scraping her chair, and walked with him to the lift. There, the pair stood in silence for several painful seconds.

"Seeing Sirius later?" asked James at a sad attempt at light conversation.

"I expect so. Are you seeing Lily later?"

James looked at her curiously, managing a confused chuckle. "Well we do live in the same house."

"There you go then."

James stared at Isabelle, trying to comprehend. It did not take him long.

He felt himself sink, as though he'd been betrayed. "You're living with Sirius?"

The lift doors inched open.

"MISTER POTTER!"

"IT'S JAMES POTTER!"

"SECRET MEETINGS WITH THE MINISTER, POTTER?!"

"WHERE'S HARRY, MR POTTER?!"

"DO YOU THINK HE'LL COME BACK TO LIFE, JAMES?!"

"JAMES POTTER!"

Light bulbs flashed everywhere, men and women screaming over each other, desperate to get a picture, a quote, a statement a smile, desperate to talk to him. The place was flooded. Isabelle leapt in front of him and jabbed the button to the Minister's office over and over again until finally, the lift doors rattled closed.

"What did you do?!" Isabelle demanded. "Remus told you to keep your head down!"

"I did!" James exclaimed. "Why do people always assume it's me that starts trouble?! I didn't have my glasses on and I was looking at the floor the whole time!"

Isabelle rubbed her forehead. "Someone must have recognised you... or they knew you were coming."

"Impossible. Nobody knew except you and Remus."

"And Lily."

"No, Lily didn't know."

Isabelle stared at him. "Why not?"

James shrugged. "Wasn't important."

Isabelle flung her arms out in frustration. "Well if visiting the Minister of Magic was so unimportant, you won't mind if she find out about your little detour in the Prophet, then!"

"You're a very flappable person, Isabelle, has anyone ever told you that?"

"No! Because I've never had smuggle people in and out of a high security institution, lie to a Minister, avoid an army of reporters or cremate a soulless dark wizard before!"

Then, the lift bell pinged. The doors came open once again, revealing the empty lobby to the Minister's office.

"You'll have to use her portkey," mumbled Isabelle. "Don't say anything to annoy her further."

"I can't believe you're living with Sirius," said James, still reeling. "How come he didn't tell me?"

"You'll have to ask him about it," replied Isabelle, walking straight over to the Minister's office door. "I'm not getting in the way of your relationship."

oOo oOo oOo

Escape was imminent. Now, Bathilda's house did not seem as cold or damp as it was before.

As Lily filled more boxes with everything that she and the others had salvaged from the wreckage of her house, the more things she noticed about Bathilda's.

The many bowls of wrapped boiled sweets that lay on bureaus and end tables around the house were not rotting remnants of the days when Bathilda's nephew lived with her. The sweets had been thrown away and refilled every month since the Potters had arrived. The thought made a lump rise in Lily's through.

Many of the books crammed into corners or stacked up in piles on the stairs or the landing were old muggle romance novels. Bathilda's collection of books on wizarding history was, of course, unparalleled. But despite her amiable nature, Lily had not expected her to be so embracing of muggle culture. Her apparent love of muggle literature was surprising.

Lily had learnt that everyone was full of surprises. Before the war she would have described herself as a good judge of character. A good reader. But in the face of death, people she loved had shed their layers and revealed their souls so unabashedly that nothing was left for her to learn of her friends. All those sneering Slytherins she'd walked past at school had shown themselves to be trembling cowards around Voldemort. The previously heroic and brave demographic of Gryffindor vanished with their money and jewels as soon as the fighting began. People had disappointed her. Sirius had disappointed her. Sirius had revealed himself as a dark knight in combat, still lovingly protecting his friends all the way through yet his eyes still burned red with blood lust when duelling a Death Eater. Marlene had been the same. She had feared the deaths of her friends and family over all else during the war, but in a battle her mind only saw the potential for victory. Kill first, help later. Petunia was almost the worst of them all. Lily could not accept that Petunia would not have cared if Lily had died. But still she could not fathom how Petunia managed to maintain her facade of indignation when she knew the danger that Lily was in. And Peter... Peter was not worth thinking about. Not one bit. Lily refused to even let Peter Pettigrew cross her mind. Not his boyish face, not his high-pitched laugh, not even the way he'd glow with pride whenever the marauders praised him for inventing ingenious pranks. She would never think of him.

In some ways, seeing people for who they truly were was a blessing. Since dating James, she had never once doubted his love for her, but when death was a near guarantee he showed himself to disregard his own life in favour of hers, diving in front of curses for her and their baby and risking torture and painful death to merely check that they were alright. Although she'd thought about it often since the war had ended, she had neglected to mention this to James. That was shameful.

She was also ashamed to admit to herself that she'd underestimated Remus. The shy, lanky boy that had glanced down from his friends' mischief at school was, in the firing line, selfless and gallant in ways that could even dwarf James. Alice Longbottom was the same, it turned out. She'd been mousy and giggly until the call of justice, when she'd turn into a lioness. But this bravery had driven her insane. If she'd relented, and given the Lestranges information... Lily stopped her train of thought. They wouldn't have spared her. Alice and Frank were doomed as soon as the Death Eaters had arrived.

"Do you like the Brontёs?"

Coming back to reality felt like being dragged by the hair out of freezing water. Bathilda was stood beside her, a warm smile on her lips at she stared fondly at the book in Lily's hand.

"I... Bathilda... I..."

"Yes, dear?"

Lily was spluttering.

"I didn't mean to snoop. I just noticed a lot of muggle titles. I was curious."

Curiosity killed the cat. Lily's late grandmother's words rang clear in her ears. She waited for Bathilda to say it.

Bathilda sighed. "We have never written quite like the muggles," she said wistfully, gently taking the book from Lily. "It is an arrogance of our kind. Fiction has never been important because our world is curious enough. We have no need for escape."

Curiosity killed the cat.

Lily raised an eyebrow. "Sure about that?"

Bathilda chuckled half-heartedly. "Physical and mental escape are worlds apart. They are defenses in very different kinds of wars. Reading did not help us defeat You-Know-Who."

No. Reading did not help. Education had, possibly, played a part in the war. But Voldemort's death was accredited to something out of Lily's hands. That night was a blur now, and she was happy to let it fade further and further from her memory. He was dead, and that was that.

"It's a shame about the wizarding fiction," said Lily at last. "Wizards have such a... an eccentric grasp of words. I used to read my textbooks for fun at school, just because they were so..." Lily paused, and glanced at Bathilda Bagshot stood beside her. "...well-written."

Bathilda chuckled again. "Words create patterns, Lily. They draw pictures. We read more and more and develop our tastes. That is when we can create our own masterpieces." Bathilda looked back up at Lily and smiled. "With plenty of practice, of course." She placed the book back on the small pile on the mantelpiece and shuffled past a confused Lily. She got to the door frame of the living room and turned back to face her.

"You didn't answer my question."

"What question?"

"About the Brontёs," Bathilda gestured to the books on the mantelpiece. "Do you like them?"

Lily shrugged. "I don't know. Jane Eyre was okay, I suppose. It's a better story. Wuthering Heights was miserable and I never finished it, but... I don't know, it was..." her cheeks grew pink. "It was prettier."

Bathilda grinned and nodded. "Emily certainly knew how to decorate an empty room. Charlotte was straight to the point." She sounded far detached from her usual scatty self. She looked at Lily again and smirked. "You've caught the writing bug, my dear. It's chronic. Don't ignore it."

She left the room, leaving Lily alone with her boxes of possessions and Bathilda's books so old and worn and travelled that they could have been elderly adventure veterans, sitting in armchairs ready to tell their tales to story-hungry children.

oOo oOo oOo

It wasn't easy for James to admit to Lily that he'd visited Bagnold. She'd drawn it out of him at dinner when she noticed that he was unusually quiet. James might've been pleasantly surprised to find that Lily didn't seem to mind about the visit, but she seemed distracted.

She always seemed distracted these days. Sitting quietly, passive, waking up to bad dreams and checking if Harry was still breathing.

But now, she seemed conflicted. The sorrow that had been in her eyes for the past two months was clouded by a dilemma. A problem. It almost worried James more than her nightmares.

At two in the morning on the 23rd of December, Lily was sleeping soundly. She was curled on her side, facing James' spot on the bed and the dent in his pillow where his head had been minutes ago. He was now shoving his glasses on his face and crossing the room to the cot, where Harry was crying. It occurred to James that this was the first time he'd been woken up by Harry in months, because Lily was always awake to soothe him.

"S'alright Harry..." James slurred groggily, picking Harry up and holding him against his chest. "S'alright... Daddy's awake. Daddy's here."

James walked quietly over to the window at the other end of the room and gazed out down the street. At the far end, there was still a handful of people wandering around the village, staring up at the remains of the Potter house, still disbelieving that they were safe. It was strange. James looked at that house and saw only the shell of his former life. He'd only been attached to it because it symbolised everything that he loved. Harry and Lily, safe and comfortable and warm. He wasn't too sure that they were any of those things now. Lily was not comfortable. James did not feel safe. James pulled Harry closer into his chest.

"What do you reckon is troubling Mummy, eh?" James asked Harry softly, who was staring vacantly out of the window. "Do you think it's something to do with this house?"

Harry continued to stare at the street outside, its night time emptiness and its visible chill.

"Is it Marlene? That makes Mummy and Daddy very sad, you know..." Whenever he thought of her, he tried to picture her as she was before the peak of the danger. Cackling with laughter with Lily or grumbling at Sirius. Her face was so often the picture of sarcasm that she could make James laugh just by a single expression. She had been ridiculously in love with her Godson. "Do you miss Marlene too, Harry?"

But whenever he tried to see her now, he only saw her rage. She was so furiously vengeful and protective of those she loved... Moody had told them that she would have been the last to go, having been forced to watch her entire family drop like flies before her. She would have died feeling like a failure.

James sniffed.

"Is it Aunt Petunia?" he continued. "Aunt Petunia's been a cow recently, hasn't she Harry? Daddy doesn't like Aunt Petunia because she's a wart."

James and Lily used to be able to laugh about the Dursleys. That wouldn't happen now.

"Do you know who else has been very silly recently?" James asked. "Daddy."

A lump rose in James' throat out of nowhere. It hit him without warning. For a second, he didn't even know why he was crying. But he listened to his last words echoing around the room and shame took over. Since Voldemort's death, he'd been useless. Fooling around with his friends, going to the pub, making secret visits to the Minister, joking about Bathilda and not once acting like the man who made Lily proud. He'd been too numb to comfort Lily in the way that would actually help her. Sitting in silence while she cried on his shoulder was necessary, but did not help. She was still sad, still scared and still lost. They were moving on with their lives in the wrong order. They were running around aimlessly trying to pick up the pieces, gathering them in their arms and not once stopping to think how to piece them together. At least, that was what James had them doing. He had no plan. No ideas. No direction.

"Mummy cries because of you, Harry," James croaked. "And so do I."

"Mama!"

James spun round. Harry pointed at Lily, who was leaning up on her elbows and staring at James with glassy eyes.

"Go back to sleep, Lily," James said softly. "You were sleeping well."

She sat up further. The heartbroken look on her face made more tears fall from James' eyes. "What's wrong?" asked Lily quietly. "James, come back to bed and tell me what's wrong."

James nodded, and turned to put Harry back into his cot.

"Bring Harry," she told him. He nodded again. Of course.

As he walked back to bed, Harry leaned out and groped the air for Lily, who reached out and took him from James, settling him in between the sheets as James slid back into them.

He told her everything. Every dark thought that had just crossed his mind was out in the open, his fear entrapping her too. She stroked his hair and kissed his cheek while he cried, just like he'd done to her after every lost battle. He explained about his guilt for lying not just about his visit to Bagnold but for pretending that everything was OK; that they had nothing to worry about. He explained his fear for the future, for raising Harry wrong, for another war, for arguing. He told her of his disappointment in himself.

"I've made a complete tit of myself," he mumbled once his tears were nearly dried up. "Blundering around pretending I know how to move on from a war when I haven't got a bloody clue..."

"Nobody does, James," said Lily gently. "Everyone's struggling to cope."

James snorted. "Remus and Sirius seem to be doing just fine."

Lily sighed. "Neither of them lost their homes, neither of them are famous and neither of them have a baby to worry about."

James shrugged. "Yeah, I s'pose."

"And besides," continued Lily. "You don't know that they're not suffering inside."

James snorted. "You reckon Sirius is suffering? I think he's fine. He's got his secret job and he's living in a nice house with his girlfriend. He's absolutely swell."

Lily stared at him in disbelief. "Sirius and Isabelle are living together?"

"Yup. They're just so loved up!"

Lily frowned. "Well... good for him."

"Sorry?"

"He's moving on. That's good."

"He is definitely not moving on."

Lily watched him squeeze his eyes shut.

"She even acts like Marlene."

Lily smiled sadly. "Marlene was meaner."

James chucked. "Yeah. She was a bitch."

James and Lily were smiling then, at the memory of her. She'd shout at Sirius for silly things, then shout at James for criticising him. She was an explosion. Love erupted from her and burned anyone who got in the way.

"I miss her."

"Me too."

"I'm angry at Sirius,"

Lily sat up, worried. "Because of Isabelle?"

"For moving on so quickly," he explained. "I wouldn't be able to."

Lily shrugged. "He and Marlene weren't as... full on as we are."

"Just because they weren't married, it doesn't mean he didn't love her any less than I love you."

"But we have stuff together. We had a house and a baby."

"And a cat."

"And a cat. But Sirius and Marlene didn't have any of that stuff. She wasn't his entire life."

"So... you're saying that if we didn't have Harry, you would've been able to move in with another bloke five months after I died?"

"Well no, obviously not..." Lily caught his gaze. She fell back against the pillows. "Fine. You're right. He's rushing things a bit."

"I'm not saying it to be a wanker, Lily."

"Language," Lily reminded him, gesturing to Harry, who was chewing his hand between them.

"Sorry," James mumbled. "But my point still stands."

"Mmm... I guess it is a bit... Marlene would be fuming if she knew he'd-"

"Are you joking? She wouldn't bother picking up her wand, she'd just remove his bollocks with her bare hands."

Lily grinned. "Oh, Marlene..."

"Marlene indeed. But it's also not very fair on Isabelle. It's not going to end well if he's only with her because he misses Marlene."

"Isabelle isn't stupid. She'd know if that was the case, and she'd have left him."

"Sure about that?"

Lily sighed again. "No. I don't know her at all."

The pair fell silent, listening to Harry chatter to himself. He kept one had wrapped around Lily's thumb at all times, while James stroked his hair.

"Kudos to Sirius for managing to keep the romance alive post-war though," James allowed. "I didn't understand how he did it at first, but now I can understand why he wanted to."

Lily looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

James thought for a moment, then flipped over onto his side to face her. "Go on a date with me."

Lily laughed loudly. "What?"

"Do you know when our last date was?"

"No."

"Neither do I."

"...Wow."

"Yeah. So let's go on a date."

Lily laughed again, looking to be hunting for the logic in his decision. "I don't... I mean, I'd love to, but... where?"

"Wherever. Somewhere posh. I want to treat you to something nice."

The thrill that James got from seeing Lily blush like she did when she was seventeen was indescribable. He couldn't hold back from leaning around Harry and kissing Lily on the lips.

"Well alright then," she grinned. "I'm looking forward to it."

"You should be."

They fell into a much less tangible silence then, both watching Harry fondly, holding the hand of the other person, tired from truth. But something was still lingering in the air. It was unimportant and harmless, but it was still there.

"Lily..." James spoke quietly. "Do you think about Pettigrew?"

There was a long pause. "All the time."

"What do you think about him?"

She thought for a moment. "I try to understand. I was so sure that he loved us, I can't think why he would betray us. He must have been so scared."

"We were all scared. We were all terrified. It didn't stop Frank or Alice."

He knew Lily was frowning. "I suppose. What do you think about him?"

James knew his answer. "I wonder where he is. I wonder where he's hiding, and how we'll find him."

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A/N: Thank you for reading. Also, thanks for all the reviews so far.

There'll be a Christmas Special Chapter posted on Christmas Day (GMT)

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