There had been a particularly disturbing History of Magic lesson in Lily's fourth year at Hogwarts in which she learnt that Nightmares were an evolved product of magic. A creature driven mad from torture and trauma inflicted night-time hallucinations upon whoever she liked, because she could. Humankind had continued to grow, with her magic infecting their blood and minds like a genetic disease. She had been called The Mare, and Lily had shuddered at the copies of renaissance painting of her in her textbook. The painting had depicted a pallid, oily, shrieking creature standing over a man as he slept, casting her evil magic upon him with such malice and rage. She'd barely looked human, but her breasts and thin wisps of greasy red hair gave her away.
Lily awoke one morning in the Spring, hot and shaking from another nightmare. The screams of witches and wizards, like those of lambs and pigs in a slaughterhouse, pierced her ears in her sleep and continued to ring in her head when she woke up.
She never reached for James in the mornings any more. She knew he would not be there. Indeed, when she slipped out of bed into the cold air of her bedroom, she looked out of the tiny window and saw him standing at the end of the garden path, by the empty roadside, with his wand in one hand and Harry, in his pyjamas and coat, holding onto his other. What unnerved Lily nowadays was not the threat of Bellatrix Lestrange's return, but that James looked so much like his father when he wore his burgundy dressing gown.
She had often imagined what sort of grandfather Charlus Potter would have been to her son. She liked to imagine that Harry's little face would restore the rushing of blood through Mr Potter's blackened, smoked-out heart. He would bounce Harry on his knee and tell him all the tales of his mischievous Hogwarts days, how his devious ways stayed with him and escalated into adulthood, where illegally-produced liquid luck kept him succeeding in all sorts of businesses and gambles. Deep down, Lily and James both knew that Charlus Potter would be the same to Harry as he was to James: a ghostly presence, showering him in money instead of love.
Lily looked around the bedroom. She was shaking, not from the cold, but the pale wood and dust and cobwebs that adorned this house made Lily feel frosty inside. She looked down at her hands. Her wedding ring looked too shiny and glamorous for her pale, bony fingers. She wrung her hands together to stop them from trembling. As she did, her eyes moved from her hands to her bare stomach, which was protruding much more noticeably nowadays. There was a living person under the skin, inches from where her hands shook with fear from scary dreams.
Sorry, baby. I'd try to sort the world out for you, but I don't seem to have a steady hand at the moment.
Lily walked through the bedroom, looking round at the place her baby would sleep in just a few months. It was no place for one child, let alone two. The house had been a welcome escape from having to tip-toe around Bathilda for months, but now she was ready for a house of her own. Death Eaters be damned.
She heard a strange shuffling noise from down the hall.
She pulled on her dressing gown, which was draped over the foot of the bed, and pulled out her wand from its pocked. Wand arm outstretched, she crept down the hall.
Please be the cat. Please be the cat.
The noise came from the bathroom.
Lily hesitated outside the door for a second, listening to the noise. If a Death Eater was in her house, it would not be fidgeting in her bathroom.
She pushed the door open and leapt backwards.
Through the doorway, she saw her cat, Tuppy, sitting uncharacteristically calmly on the lid of the toilet, his tail gently swinging from side to side. The sound was not coming from him.
Lily peered round the door frame. The source of the noise came from their enormous owl, Cadwal. His wings were hitting the sides of the bath and his talons scraped the bottom in an apparent victory dance after a battle with a now-dead spider.
She almost made a quip about the two of them finally getting along, but neither animal seemed interested in her presence. Instead, she disrobed.
In the harsh morning light, Lily saw her reflection in the dirty bathroom mirror above the sink. She did not react to what she saw, but registered a sort of distant devastation.
She had unravelled into the figure that would make a mother's heart break. Maybe that's why Lily had not visited Molly Weasley or Andromeda much recently. She had always been pale, but she was pallid now. White, almost green, like the colour of nausea. It made her freckles stand out further. Her hair was a disgrace. It was greasy, dishevelled and matted around the vague resemblance of the braid she'd tied it into two weeks ago. There were enough tendrils to almost entirely hide her eyes.
Her eyes were the worst part. Her eyelids and under-eyes were red, as though she hadn't slept in weeks. The green in her irises had faded to the colour of grass suffocating under a thick coat of frost. She looked tired and dead.
She weakly pushed some of the stray hair out of her face. The movement conjured the sound of her old choir, and how it used to echo so loudly in the magnificent stone cathedral in Lily's home town. Lily had performed with her community choir, alongside her sister, in her town's annual Christmas Concert. They had sung sad and heavenly songs about winter and death and the grace of God, and the faces in the audience had all been the same- as though they were watching a sunrise. Her mother had tears pouring down her face. Lily had felt so beautiful, wrapped up in the glorious echo of angel's voices praising life and light, that she'd pushed her hair out of her face to face the beauty of the moment.
Lily watched her reflection as she caressed her own face, imagining it were her mother's. She could hear the choir. Tears welled in Lily's eyes, not from upset, but from the memory of her mother crying every time she heard choir song.
Lily turned to face the owl. "I need a bath. Do you mind?"
As though understanding every word, the owl picked up the spider in his beak, swallowed it whole, and claimed a new perch on the edge of the bath. Lily leaned over next to him to run the taps.
The water was not deep enough or warm enough when Lily got in, but she was too impatient to close her eyes and dream.
She did not want to be in this house any longer. The dust and grime and smallness and cold made her itch. She thought of her husband and son outside, in the fresh air, all bundled up, Harry in his coat, James in his dressing gown...
oOo oOo oOo
Lily's first encounter with Charlus Potter was in her fourth year at Hogwarts. It was also the first time she felt a shred of warmth for his son, James.
Charlus Potter. The man, the myth, the legend. It had quickly got out that he was in McGonagall's office with his wife. Gryffindor boys had filled the corridor outside the office, hoping to catch a glimpse of the most famous prankster in Hogwarts history. The man was the pride of Gryffindor. Lily was there too, having been dragged there by Marlene to see if James' mother would drag him and Sirius out by their ears. Lily was having fun watching the first year boys waiting to pounce on Charlus Potter.
When the door to the office opened, there was an intake of breath. Out stepped Charlus Potter, clad in a dark red velvet dinner jacket, with salt-and-pepper hair and the smarmiest smirk Lily had ever seen. Boys cheered and applauded the man, and he'd anticipated it happening. He waved and grinned at his fans as McGonagall ran out and shushed them.
From behind McGonagall stepped Mrs Potter.
At this point, Lily did not know her name. But she looked like a Lily. Withered.
Sallow skin, pale ginger hair and bulging blue eyes. The woman was a rake, wearing a brand new crimson dress that did not suit her at all. She looked around at the children in the corridor with fear and shame. She clutched her handbag to her stomach. The woman was a rake. James and Sirius walked behind her, trying their best to smile along with the jovial atmosphere. But James looked troubled. Not worried, though... just sad.
Lily looked from him to the meek woman in front of him, to the smug man older man in front of her. He did not look at his wife. Only at his old stomping ground. Lily could almost see a leash- the handle in the hand of Charlus Potter and the collar around the neck of his wife.
Marlene was not cheering either. When the two marauders walked past them, Lily felt the unfamiliar urge to reach out and touch James' arm.
The family continued down the corridor and a gaggle of boys followed. Lily and Marlene did not.
"Did you see the look on James' dad's face?" Marlene asked Lily quietly. "What a tosser."
Lily stared after them. "His mum looked..." she didn't know what to say.
"Pathetic. I know. I bet he's having a dozen affairs."
Lily saw James lower his head as they turned the corner and she could have sworn he'd cast a spell to pull her forward.
oOo oOo oOo
Lily came back to the present when something in the water brushed against her arm.
She opened her eyes. One of Cadwal's feathers had fallen off him into the bath water, and the owl watched it float against Lily. She picked it up, and feeling foolish, she held it out to him. He stared at her.
The feather was wet, not delicate. She used it to trace a watery heart shape on the top of her stomach. She then toyed with the feather in her fingers, conjuring any magic she could muster in her sorry state to make it float in the air above her fingers and drift in front of her.
The cat and the owl watched her face.
The feather, brown, was the colour of the stone that built the cathedral that contained Lily's happy and love-filled voice.
The sad sound of the choir echoed in her ears again.
Lily had not understood the Latin in those hymns, but had felt the words as she sang them.
The bathroom was silent.
oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo
After her bath, Lily suggested to James that they escape the house for the day. He had readily agreed, once he'd sent a birthday howler to Remus' work office. He needed to buy him a present. Lily quickly suggested a market near her home town, which opened every Spring selling folk-y gifts for Easter. She wasn't sure why she thought of it, but it seemed ideal. An opportunity to visit an old favourite. On a Saturday, the place would be teaming with muggles. They would be safe in a large crowd.
Lily felt herself cheering up as soon as James told her she looked nice. She hadn't made an attempt to fix her hair, but she'd worn her navy duffle coat which James liked, and a yellow knitted scarf that he'd bought her one Christmas. They had dared to leave the pram at home, with James offering to carry Harry if he got tired of walking. He held her hand as they floo'ed to London and kept his arm around her when they were sat on the bus to Stoketon-Upon-Thames. Harry did not cry on the bus. He knelt on James' lap and stared out of the window, fascinated at all he could see. As James chatted to Harry, pointing out dogs and bicycles and boats on the river, Lily leant her head on his shoulder, closed her eyes and smiled. She listened to their chatter. She listened to the conversations of muggles, who had seen no war in decades. She listened to the traffic, to the sound of wind rushing past the bus window. It was blissful to be somewhere completely detached from the place where their fear built.
When they hopped off the bus, families were already making their way to the market in the town Square. When James automatically took her hand, Lily couldn't hide her smile.
"You look chipper," James commented.
"I am," Lily beamed. "I feel all refreshed."
James smiled back. "I haven't seen you smile like that in a while. You have a gorgeous smile."
"Thank you, I'm flattered. I'm trying to suppress the memory of the hideous creature I saw in the mirror this morning."
"You'd better not be talking about your reflection..."
"Oh, it was dire. My face just screamed 'get out of the house'... I'm glad we're doing it."
Lily could feel James watching her as they walked. Her smile did not fade. The sight of her lovely home town and the approaching market made her heart soar in a way that made her feel like a child.
"I'm going to treat you," James declared after a long silence. "Pick up whatever you want, I'll buy it."
Lily turned to face him. "Really? Are you sure?"
James nodded. "I can tell you've been... in a rut back home and... I want to cheer you up. You deserve it."
Lily stared at him. Then, she flung herself at him, throwing her arms around him and planting a kiss firmly on his cheek. "You're lovely," she told him.
James grinned. "I know."
"I'm buying you something too, though."
"Don't! That makes my thing less special."
"No it doesn't. Suck it up, you're getting a present. Oh that reminds me, we need to find something for Remus."
They wandered through the busy market just as it began to snow. Harry gripped James' hand as they visited each stall, stocking up on ingredients for the next day's dinner- for Remus' birthday, they were going to invite he and Sirius over for a Sunday roast and birthday cake. Both Lily and James were nervous about a birthday celebration without certain members of the old gang... so they would keep it casual. An evening like any other.
They bought jam and mismatched crockery and marshmallows and pressed apple juice and a patchwork blanket. They bought a stuffed toy piglet for Harry. They bought a blue stuffed toy rabbit for their unborn baby.
They briefly separated. Lily picked out a second-hand dress and a jumper for James to buy her and spent a while looking for him again. As soon as Lily started to worry, with thoughts of disguised Death Eaters snatching her husband and son beginning to surface, she found James with Harry loitering at the old book stall.
"I found this for Remus-," he told her when she approached him. He showed her a bottle of liquorice wine.
"Perfect."
"-and this," he pointed to the classic muggle novel he'd been looking at. Nights With Uncle Remus.
Lily grinned. "Also perfect. Give it to me, I'll pay for it."
"It's alright... I'm still looking..."
Lily said no more.
James had been a fan of classic muggle adventure novels since Sirius had got him hooked on Sherlock Holmes novels at school. The Hound of The Baskervilles resonated with the boys. Lily had gifted Shelley's Frankenstein and Buchan's The Three Hostages to him on his seventeenth birthday. Lily loved to read too, but James' fascination with muggle fiction and muggle adventures was strange to her. Perhaps it was the ideas of magic and the paranormal that muggles conjured up.
"I'll buy you anything from here," she told him.
He wore the glassy-eyed expression of a day-dreamer mystified by stories. It made her stroke his arm.
"What should I pick?" he asked her.
She scanned the table, at the titles and what she knew he would like.
"Agatha Christie for mystery. Edgar Allan Poe for gruesome murder. Ooh... John Le Carré... you'd like him. Mysteries... spies... like Auror stuff but more muggle."
"Cracking. He's my guy," James immediately scooped up a collected of Le Carré novels, as well as a book of Poe's short stories and a copy of Christie's Evil Under The Sun. He looked sheepishly at Lily.
"Is six books too much?"
"Not at all. It's weak, in fact..." She picked up a copy of H.G Wells' The War of The Worlds. He would enjoy it. As she paid for the books and the seller tipped them into a cardboard box, Lily's eyes scanned the small Children's section to the far right of the table. Tales by Roald Dahl and J.M Barrie sat in lines, their paperback covers whipping open in the cold breeze.
"You're going to love reading books to Harry..." said Lily to her husband and to herself.
Once they'd exhausted the market, they strolled along the path by the river. Somehow, the three of them did not feel the cold as much as the people around them, who walked briskly and breathed into their scarves. They found a food van and bought cups of tea in Styrofoam cups and found a bench on the riverbank to drink them while Harry chatted to his new toy piglet. The happiness that Lily felt, with heavy bags on their laps and aching feet, was almost overwhelming. She leaned into James and nuzzled his neck.
"I need more days like this," she spoke into his coat collar.
He tightened his arm around her. "Yeah. We all do. It'll be easier once Bellatrix is captured."
Lily grimaced. "Do we have to wait until then to be happy?"
James shrugged. "She's looming over us. It makes me nervous."
Lily looked up at him. "Hence the standing outside our house like a complete lemon at 5am..."
James smiled. "It helps, I guess."
"It doesn't help me. I don't like waking up to an empty bed. I miss you."
James looked at her with sincerity. "Sorry..."
"Stay with me every once in a while."
"I will."
"Tell me if I'm being a nag..."
"You're not being a nag."
"I don't want to be a naggy wife."
"You're not a naggy wife!"
"...good."
She rested her head against his shoulder again. "Thank you for today. It's been perfect."
James leaned closer and kissed the top of her head. But as he did, Lily felt him tense.
She looked up at him. "You alright?"
James was staring further along the riverbank. "Isn't that... Petunia?"
Lily pulled away from him and whipped round to see. Sure enough, sitting on the next bench along, was Lily's sister.
She was alone. No husband, no baby. Lily didn't think she'd seen Petunia alone since she'd met Vernon. She looked strange, like she was lost. But she was sat on the bench with a blue handbag in her lap, eating a sandwich. It was such a normal thing to do, but Petunia did not look normal doing it.
Lily didn't remember making any decision, yet she found herself walking towards Petunia. Her sister did not notice she was there until Lily spoke.
"Hello."
Petunia turned, saw her and stared wide-eyed at her, as though she were pointing a gun at her.
She quickly mashed her sandwich back into her bag, slung it over her shoulder and leapt off the bench.
"Do not run away from me, Tuney! You owe me an explanation!"
Petunia did indeed stop in her tracks.
She grimaced as she turned to face Lily. "Have you been following me?"
Lily rolled her eyes. "No, Tuney, we have not been following you."
Petunia leaned to the side and peered round Lily to where James was sat on the bench behind her, keeping his eyes firmly on Harry.
Petunia clenched her jaw. "Why are you here then?"
Lily shrugged. "To enjoy ourselves. What does it matter? I'm still waiting for my explanation."
Petunia shifted uncomfortably. "What are you talking about?"
"You said you'd contact me. You never did."
Petunia swallowed. "No. I didn't."
Lily waited for Petunia to continue, but she did not. The snow was falling more heavily now, in big fluffy flakes.
"... Well? Why didn't you?"
Petunia sighed. "I just decided not to."
"Elaborate."
Petunia grimaced. "Do we have to do this now? Here?"
Lily raised an eyebrow. "Well, would you like to reschedule?"
Petunia looked at her pointedly. "No. I don't think so."
Lily looked behind her at James. He was watching them with concern now.
"What do you mean, Tuney?"
Petunia looked awkwardly at her feet for a second before speaking. "I've thought about your... activities and your... involvement in your family over the past few years, and I've spoken to Vernon about it and... I'm not ready to forgive you yet."
Lily stared at her. "Forgive me for what?"
Petunia blinked. "You can't be serious. As soon as you get a diamond ring on your finger, you go months without seeing your family so that you and your fiancé can go running around with radicals doing God-knows what, scaring our mother literally to death by telling her you're fighting a war and you don't know why I'm not ready to forgive you?"
James was walking up behind Lily now.
"We were fighting a war! We nearly died multiple times, which you knew!"
"There was no war in the real world, Lily. You could've just come home and left all the danger behind. Or are we too boring for you?"
Lily almost involuntarily stamped her foot. "How many times do I have to explain it to you?! The wizarding world is just as real as the muggle one!"
Petunia's eyes widened as soon as Lily spoke the W-word. She stared around at the people that were barely close enough to hear their rather vocal conversation.
"Do not use words like that in public!" Petunia hissed.
"Why not?!"
"People will think you're mad!"
"So?!"
Petunia clenched her jaw.
"This was always your problem..." Lily said, purposefully calming herself. "... you never made any effort to accept me for who I am. As soon as I boarded that train in September, that was it. You were done trying to understand me."
"Don't you dare blame me for this," growled Petunia. "You made it very clear when you came home each term which world was the one for you... and which one was not enough anymore. It broke Mum's heart, you know..." Lily felt James' hand on her shoulder. "I had to watch her unravel on my own because of you."
"Mum was proud of me. She loved me. At least she could accept me."
"And a bloody good job you did of thanking her. You didn't even come to her funeral."
"Oi, don't you guilt trip Lily..." James spoke up warningly. "None of that was her fault. If you want to blame someone, I'm right here."
Petunia scowled at him. "I do blame you. I blame you for dragging my sister from danger and for ruining my family."
"Petunia, don't..." said Lily wearily. Her exhausted tone made both James and Petunia look to her in concern. "I cried for days after missing her funeral. You know I'd have come if I could, but..."
Petunia looked at her coldly. "I was the only blood relative in attendance, you know."
Lily looked at the floor. "Yep."
"That's what I'll never understand, Lily. I spent my years indoors doing my homework, avoiding boys, cleaning the house, comforting Mum... yet she loved you more than me."
"That's not true."
"It is. You know it is. All that fuss over your school supplies, all the letter-writing, all the pining after you when you were gone, all the fascination with spells and magic and the boy you started bringing home with you... she never asked me about Vernon. She never invited Vernon for tea. Christ, she even asked to be buried with your christening gown."
The mental image of her mother in a coffin made Lily want to gag and sob. But she stared hard at the floor and breathed deeply.
"I'm not saying it's over between us... I think we just need some time to accept where we are."
When Lily looked up at her, she was hoisting her handbag over her shoulder.
"Your son's getting big. He looks healthy."
Shocked that Petunia could dare to lighten the tone so quickly, Lily could only let out a meagre "thank you".
"Your stomach's getting big too. Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?"
At that, James stepped forward. "Er, you've made it pretty clear that that's not your business anymore." He steered Lily away, keeping his arm around her shoulders, clutching Harry's arm with his free hand. "We'll think about putting it in a letter when it's born. You know, if we've accepted where we are yet."
Petunia glared at him as they walked away. Lily couldn't care less, which surprised her. Each of Petunia's words had been a kick to the stomach, and now she was too tired to beg for something that would continue to hurt her.
Perhaps Petunia was right. Perhaps they needed time to realize that you cannot fix a broken mirror.
oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo
Lily said very little until the following evening, when Remus and Sirius were due to arrive for Remus' birthday dinner. James baked the cake for her in silent understanding, with a few words of guidance from her. She cooked mechanically and mindlessly, with James chopping vegetables and dishing out plates. When Sirius arrived, Isabelle arrived with him. Lily immediately felt James tense at her presence, which forced her into being vaguely wary and alert for the rest of the evening.
Once gifts were opened and dinner was eaten, James filled the guests in on what happened between them and Petunia earlier that day.
"Don't be sad, Lily," said Sirius, who was bouncing Harry on his knee. "She doesn't know what she's giving up."
"I'm sure she'll come around," Remus assured her. "You're her sister. I'm sure she's got a heart under all that... er..."
"Hatred? Selfishness? Maybe," retorted James, who was collecting the empty plates. "Sorry, Lils. I love you to death, but your sister's a monster. One of you is definitely adopted."
Lily smiled wryly. "God, I hope it's me. Mum didn't deserve a daughter like me."
"Oi, don't say that," said James. "Your Mum adored you. Fuck everything Petunia said. No wonder your Mum didn't love her as much. If either of our kids ends up anything like her, we're giving them away."
Isabelle shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Does Harry pick up on swear-words?"
"Nah. He's pretty much deaf to everything except Mummy, Daddy and food words."
"Oh..." Isabelle glanced at Sirius, who was fixated with the toddler in his lap. He was toying with a cloud of smoke he had conjured from his hand to entertain Harry, and was swirling it with his finger. It occurred to Lily what a good father Sirius would make one day. He would be the fun parent. It would certainly be true if he had children with Isabelle...
"What time does he go to bed?" Isabelle asked.
Lily shrugged awkwardly. "Whenever he gets tired, I guess..."
Isabelle stared at her. "I thought children were supposed to have bed times."
"How many kids have you got, Isabelle?" asked James crisply. Lily patted his knee under the table.
"None. My brother has twin girls. I look after them when I visit him and my parents in France."
"I didn't know you had a brother," commented Remus.
"A twin brother. Pierre. We're very close."
Lily detected a slight tension in Sirius as she spoke.
"Pierre Sommier..." Remus said slowly. "I don't remember any Pierre Sommier at Hogwarts..."
"He's a muggle."
"A squib?!"
"A muggle. I'm muggle-born. I'm the only one with magic in my family."
"Wow..." continued Remus. "How does he feel about his twin sister possessing magic?"
Isabelle looked at Remus as though the question made no sense. "He's fine with it. I'm his sister. Why wouldn't he be?"
Lily stood up suddenly. "I think I'll put Harry to bed now."
She walked round the table and lifted Harry out of Sirius' arms. She felt James' eyes on her as she ascended the stairs with Harry. She looked back at him and tried to smile reassuringly, but judging by his expression, she was not convincing.
Harry was not ready to go down. Lily changed him into pyjamas and sat him in his cot, knowing she'd have to stay with him until he became tired. She sat on the floor beside his cot, as she often did, and rested her head against the bars. Within seconds, she felt his little hands grasping strands of her hair. She smiled, focusing on the quiet moment with her son instead of the dingy, dusty bedroom they were in.
When Harry was drowsy, Lily reluctantly went back downstairs to the kitchen. Remus was pouring out glasses of the liquorice wine James and Lily had given him. Sirius and Isabelle were holding hands above the table and James was reading a piece of card.
"Look at this, Lils," James held out the card to her when she entered. "Padfoot here is throwing a party."
Lily took the card from James and read it.
Sirius Black invites you...
... to A Very Fun And Exclusive Party
7pm on 14th April at 226 Diagon Alley
Attire: Celebratory
There will be alcohol.
Lily looked at Sirius, who was grinning like a Cheshire cat.
"You're throwing a party in Diagon Alley?"
"Yep."
"How? You don't live there."
Sirius leaned back in his chair, still holding on to Isabelle's hand. "Let's just say I hired a venue."
Isabelle smiled too. "You must come. We've invited lots of people and I don't know any of them."
"Who else is going?" asked James.
"People we know. Some of the old gang, that sort of thing."
"The old gang?" Remus questioned. "As in the Order?"
Sirius shrugged. "Yeah. People from school. You know."
Lily felt slightly better that Remus was just as perplexed as she and James were about Sirius' activities. His mysterious business endeavour and now his spontaneous 'exclusive' party in a strange place were a little unnerving coming from someone who shared everything with his best friends.
"Sirius, please tell me what 'celebratory attire' is," said Lily.
"It means come as you like," replied Isabelle on his behalf. "But it's a party, so, you know... dress nice."
Lily internally groaned. Nothing dispelled self esteem like a larger-than-normal baby bump.
oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo
When their guests were gone, Lily and James were too tired to clear up. They left piles of dirty plates on the kitchen counter, almost-empty glasses of wine on the dining table, and retreated to the living room, where James lit a fire in the wood burner. They sat curled up together on the sofa, Lily with a mug of tea balancing on her stomach and James with a glass of wine in his hand. He had tried to give up drinking alcohol when Lily was pregnant with Harry, but it had caused too many arguments to be worth it.
Aside from the crackling fire, the house was silent.
"Sirius pissed me off earlier," said James.
Lily rubbed his arm in response.
"He's keeping secrets from me."
"He says he wants to surprise us," Lily reasoned.
"He's told Isabelle though. I bet she knows everything."
Lily shrugged. "Quite possibly. She is his girlfriend."
James frowned. "I need to get a grip."
Lily gave him a peck on the cheek. "Yes. You do."
James smiled.
They watched the gentle flames for a while. Lily enjoyed the warmth and cosiness of the living room. The dim light hid the dust and peeling wallpaper. She took her mug of tea and put it on the floor by the end of the sofa. The fire and her husband were warm enough. Besides, she'd lost her appetite.
"Did I kill my mother, James?"
James turned to look at her. He did not respond for several seconds. Lily knew he was not thinking about his answer. He was merely reading her face.
"No. She was old."
"She was forty eight."
"She was sick."
Lily swallowed. "I think I killed her."
James shifted so that his body faced her squarely. "You and I both know that your mother had a shitty life, and you were probably the only thing that kept her going."
Lily watched him as he spoke. The light of the flames made him look beautiful in a way that reminded her of her wedding night.
"She was really sick, Lily. You had nothing to do with her dying. If there's an afterlife, then she's watching over you proudly. If there isn't, then she's just gone. She's not in pain, she's not upset... but she wouldn't want you to mess with your own head about it."
James inched closer. "She wanted you to be happy. That's what today was about until your sister came and shat all over it."
Lily laughed out loud. James grinned. His arm tightened around her shoulders.
"I am happy," she told him. "I mean, things make me sad a lot. We're not where I want us to be yet... but I'm happy. You make me happy."
James smiled in a way that only Lily ever saw. He put his wine glass on the floor by his feet and cupped her face with his now-free hand. Then, he kissed her.
In coldness and misery, intimacy was rare. It did not take long for their sweet soft kisses to deepen into passionate ones. Lily pushed herself into the sofa as James hovered over her, keeping distance between him and the bump but using his hands generously all over her body. Lily missed the days when she could crush herself against him, but she'd have to wait a few more months for those days to return.
When James reached up her dress, pulled her underwear down her legs and touched her there, every event of the past few days was forgotten.
His hand left her to unbuckle his belt, but then he hesitated.
"What is it?" she asked, with a hint of a whine.
"This weekend is supposed to be about you," he stated, his eyes raking up and down her body. He did not undo his belt. Instead, he bent down to kiss her lips, her cheeks, her jaw, her neck, her chest, downwards... he kissed over her stomach... downwards...
He gripped her thighs as his lips and tongue worked on her. It was nice to feel glorious, and he was very good at making her feel that way. Her fingers dug into the head of the sofa as she bit down on her other fist. Adulthood was a scary place sometimes, but with responsibility came the freedom to have James Potter's head between her legs without disturbance from anyone.
An hour later, they both lay on the living room floor. The flames were extinguished, leaving a more ghostly light from the half moon in the sky as their only aid of visibility. It made their bare skin look milky. Lily felt pretty.
"One day, we have to have a beautiful house of our own," said Lily into the darkness. "And everything will be different and we'll have space to breathe... but we'll have a wood burner like this one, and we'll fuck in front of it when the children are asleep."
James, whose chest was pressed against her back and whose arm was resting on her stomach, kissed her shoulder in response.
Lily shivered. She reluctantly left James' embrace to pull her dress back on. Prompted by the new exposure to the cold, James too pulled on his pants and jeans. Lily found her jumper on the back of the sofa. She climbed over to pick it up, but she was inexplicably distracted by the view outside the window.
The night sky looked incredible in the countryside. In London it was nothing. Just black. In the countryside, the sky looked like the twinkly starlit scapes that featured in paintings.
"Like Hogwarts..." she whispered to herself.
Then, something on the ground caught her eye. Movement. People.
"James..." she started. "Someone's coming."
James quickly stood up. "What?"
Dark figures, shadowed by the moonlight behind them, turned direction.
"They're coming up the garden path..."
"Go upstairs."
Lily didn't argue. Harry was up there. So was her wand.
She sprinted up the stairs. When she reached the top, there was a loud knock at the door.
Neither of them responded to the knock. James followed after her up the stairs. His wand, too, was in their bedroom. They skidded up and down the hallway, splintering their feet on the old wood, reaching for wands and for their son. Lily positioned herself in a defensive stance in front of sleeping Harry's cot, her wand held out to the door.
Someone was banging on their door.
James lingered in the hallway at the top of the stairs, staring down.
The house was so dark.
Lily gripped the railing of Harry's crib. She watched James aim his wand downstairs.
"POTTER!" called a gruff voice from outside. "Open the bloody door!"
"Who is it?!" James shouted back, gripping his wand with both hands.
Lily looked behind her at Harry. The boy slept.
"You need to get out of there, Potter. Take your family and go."
"James," Lily hissed. "It's Alastor Moody."
James looked from her to the door. "Alohomora,"
Lily heard the front door unlock and swing open. She heard the heavy clunking steps of Alastor Moody. Others too entered.
"What's going on?" James asked their visitors, lowering his wand.
"It's Bellatrix Lestrange, Potter," a female voice spoke. "She's close by. She's been torturing people for your whereabouts. She may know where you live."
Lily's stomach flipped.
"Miss Gamble?" asked James.
Ah. His Auror training instructor.
"Gather some clothes. Get your wands. We're getting you to a safehouse. You're leaving this place."
Lily did not hesitate. She spun round and picked Harry up. He squirmed and started to moan, but Lily ignored him. She yanked open a drawer and grabbed a fistful of his clothes. As she did, she looked out of the small window at the commotion below. Several Aurors stood around their house, wands outstretched, scanning the horizon. The Tonks' house, not 50 yards away, sat unguarded.
Choir song. Echoing harmony. Shrill, screamed hymns. The hot fear that rushed through her gut, lungs and veins made her inexplicably hear the distant songs of God.
oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo
A/N: A long one. I don't own any of the books mentioned etc.
I hope you all had a nice Christmas. Please review/favourite/follow.
N x