They flew by broomstick, North, to Manchester, against pelting sheets of icy rain. Lead by Moody and tailed by his accompanying auror, Montague, they arrived at a place far worse than even Bathilda Bagshot's house.

One room. That's what the safe house was. An attic, with one creaky bed pushed far into the corner to accommodate the six tin buckets that collected rain water dripping in from the roof. They'd arrived at a workhouse, abandoned by muggles decades ago, and relinquished to the wizards like many abandoned buildings were. It was cheaper than demolition. The workhouse was empty. Cleared of furniture, walls knocked down... all that remained inside the hollow shell of the workhouse was a rickety staircase leading up to the old caretaker's quarters. The attic, with its bed and its buckets and its rusting stove and its fire drum. Squatters wouldn't stay.

"There's no bathroom," James noted, standing amongst the buckets in the middle of the room, looking around miserably.

"There's one on the floor below," the other auror, Montague, told him. James had only known Montague for an hour or so, but decided that he was a nice man. He had a kind face, and dusty hair that reminded him of Remus.

"You can't leave us here," said James, addressing Moody now. "It's a shit hole."

"You're welcome, Potter! We're risking our wretched lives to protect you and yours..." Moody nodded his head in the direction of the bed. Lily was sitting on it with Harry, propping him up against the grimy window, showing him the view outside. She was silent.

"And we're not leaving you. Montague's on night watch outside. In the morning, Mavis will come for the day watch. You'll be protected."

Plaster was peeling off the walls. The wind rattled the roof tiles.

"We can't keep a baby here," said James.

"Renovation wasn't exactly at the top of our to-do list these past few years," Moody grumbled.

"It'll only be for a couple of days," Montague assured him. "A week at the most. Then we can safely move you along."

"Move us where?" asked Lily, speaking for the first time since they'd left. James turned to look at her. She looked oddly calm. Relieved.

Montague looked uncertain about the answer to her question.

"Wherever you want," replied Moody for him. "Just don't be idiots."

As though the insult hadn't hit her, Lily nodded. She went back to looking out of the window, immersed in thought.

"I mean it, Potter," said Moody. "Don't be idiots. We don't know what Lestrange's victims told her. She could know where you live, where your friends live... she might be loopy but she's a clever witch. She can get people to do her bidding. She can curse your friends."

James looked away and nodded. "Who did she torture?" he asked.

"Florence Milton, Amos Diggory... she'll try again, though."

"Are they alright?"

"No."

James heard the bed springs creek. Lily came to stand next to him. She took his arm.

"Thank you, Moody. Thank you, Montague. We're really grateful for your help."

James stared at her. She wore a false smile.

"Hm. Right. I'll be off. Montague will be outside."

Moody hobbled out of the attic, making the room shake. Montague followed him, after offering a sympathetic smile in James' direction.

The door shut.

James turned to his wife. She was looking at him lovingly.

"Look at that. We're in hiding. Again."

Lily smiled sadly. "Is this the rainy day we've been holding out for?" she asked him.

"Maybe..." he stepped towards the bed. "You seem quite calm."

"If Harry sees us panicking, he'll lose it."

James made an effort to slow his movements and neutralise his expression. "Okay... but you're screaming inside, right?"

"Not exactly," she replied. "I'm just having a re-think."

"A re-think about what?"

Harry caught Lily's eye. He was wearily rubbing his eyes. She picked him up and cradled him in her lap.

"I'm realizing that I've always underestimated the effects of war. It was naive of me to think that life would be fine once the war ended. It's never that easy..."

She passed Harry, who was falling asleep, to James so that she could unlace and remove her boots.

"These were my father's," she told him, holding the boots up to him. She bent the worn leather, flicked dried mud off the heels. "He wore them in North Africa in a war when he was our age."

James watched as Lily placed the boots carefully together down the side of the bed. James had never seen Lily's father. There had been no pictures of him in her house, other than a small, blurry, static muggle image of a fair-haired soldier that Lily kept in a drawer in her room. Judging by the size of his boots, he'd been a big man. A big, smoking florist called Harold. That's all James knew. A big, smoking florist called Harold who neglected his wife, cherished his daughters and fought in a war.

Lily watched Harry sleeping in James' arms with a sorrowful sort of love. "Nothing goes back to normal after a war." She stroked her son's forehead with her little finger. "People don't just forget a war."

Seeing his wife's sad, surrendered expression brought James out of his dismal mind. He could not wallow in self-pity, not when she was already miserable. "We're not defeated, Lily."

"Not yet, I suppose."

"Not ever. Lily, we're still going to do what we said we'd do: claim a piece of the world and carve out a space where we'll all be safe. That's how we win."

"It's becoming kind of a two-steps-forward, one-step-back process."

"It won't be forever! Listen, Lily, everything's going to come together. You're right, happiness doesn't just happen. We have to make it ourselves."

"So what do we do?"

"Take matters into our own hands."

Lily looked at him with the same wide-eyed engrossed expression she wore when they used to hatch plans with the Order. She nodded in understanding.

"We need to protect the Tonks'," she said.

"And warn Padfoot and Moony," James continued. "And leave this place."

Lily frowned and looked at Harry. Indeed, the sleeping toddler in James' arms made him doubt that they could go anywhere right now.

He pulled back the sheets and slipped Harry into the middle of the bed. As he rustled the sheets, he felt them to be cold, scratchy and slightly damp. He sighed.

"We'll come up with a plan tomorrow. I don't want to spend another night here. When I come back from training, we'll go."

Lily nodded. She scooted to the far edge of the bed closest to the wall and slid into bed beside Harry, still wearing her coat. She rested her arm over Harry, and patted the space in bed on the other side of him. James slipped off his shoes. Too cold to undress, he resigned himself to sleeping in his clothes.

The attic and bed were cold. The water dripping into the buckets from the roof kept James awake, but it was dark enough to comfortably doze. His son's slow breathing beside him soothed him. The rise and fall of his chest lulled him...

"James..." Lily whispered into the darkness.

"Mmm?"

"We have other options, you know. Less obvious ones."

James opened his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean we could speak to your relatives."

James sat up. He could not see her in the dark. "You're mad."

"I'm thinking about Harry, that's all."

"They're bad people, Lily. They abandoned us in the war."

"People act selfishly when they're scared, it doesn't mean they're bad people."

"Like Peter?"

There was silence. Peter's name had not been uttered in a long time, and the sound of it dug up and aired felt foreign and uncomfortable. Like sitting in a hot bath and feeling the sting of a cut long forgotten-about somewhere on your body. It was ostentatious discomfort, and startling at how easily forgotten it was.

James felt Lily's hand rest on his chest.

"Not all cowards are bad people, and not all bad people are cowards. Some people are neither, and some people are both. But we can't just take guesses at people's nature. We have to find out for ourselves."

James exhaled. "Stop being so wise, Dumbledore."

He sensed her smiling at him. "We'll talk about it tomorrow. Sleep now."

oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo

It was disheartening for both James and Lily to wake in such a place. Even more depressing was the fact that the damp iron bed had served as stage for the best night's sleep they'd each had in weeks.

They donned coats and boots and trudged, bleary-eyed and foggy through the abandoned workhouse, too tired to take in the austere look of the place.

Outside, a beak-nosed woman with frizzy orange hair and a purple cloak paced backwards and forwards with a wand in one hand and a tobacco pipe in the other.

James and Lily both froze. Lily picked Harry up and clutched him to her chest as James' hand reached into the inside pocket of his jacket.

The strange woman looked at them and beamed with a mouth full of brown, rotting teeth. "Morning, all!" she said cheerily, waving and raising her pipe in their direction. "I'm Mavis! I'm yer day-watcher!"

The woman spoke with a strong Scottish accent. She was cheerful. A far cry from the dispositions of most of the Aurors Lily and James had met.

James and Lily exchanged a suspicious glance.

"We thank you profusely for watching our day, Mavis," James said as they approached. His hand remained inside his jacket.

"Paid to do it, Mister Potter, paid to do it. You off out?"

"We're going to find somewhere to have breakfast," Lily told her. "Any recommendations?"

"Nae, this is new territory fer me. Well, wait two seconds and I'll grab me bag."

James and Lily looked at each other, then back to her. "You're... coming with us?" asked James.

"My instructions are tae protect ye from Death Eaters, come hell or high water. Not sure if that means I'm s'posed to just naval-gaze if ye fall in the canal, or what... either way, I can't do no protectin' if you're all off explorin'. Don't be troubled, though, Mister Potter, I'll keep ma distance. Incognito, like. I'm just here tae guard ye. Wouldn't want any harm tae come tae yer lad, would ye?"

James and Lily stared at her in puzzlement.

"Er... right. So... you're tagging along and...?"

Mavis tipped her pipe out onto the concrete of the courtyard. "Start walking, I'll grab ma bag from inside and follow behind ye."

"Wait."

Before Mavis could walk off, she froze.

James aimed his wand at her. She stared wide-eyed at the end of it, raising her arms above her head. Lily thought she looked like a comedic street mime.

"May I?"

Mavis sighed and relaxed. "Ay, go ahead."

"Finite Incantatem."

Nothing happened.

"See there? Not a Death Eater in disguise!" Mavis did a slow pirouette on the spot.

Slightly shell-shocked by their introduction to Mavis the Auror, the Potters began walking out of the courtyard and down the pavement lined with boarded-up terraced houses. It was no longer raining but they dodged large puddles as they walked. Lily clutched Harry to herself, partly to keep him from the cold and partly to ensure that nothing on planet earth could come near him without coming near her too. She was sad to not be able to let him walk and splash in the puddles, but with Bellatrix rearing her deranged head, Lily would not let him out of her sight.

"Is that Mavis following?" Lily asked James.

James peered over his shoulder. "She's far behind, but yes. She's kicking the puddles."

"The Auror last night did mention a Mavis."

"I remember. He also said not to trust anyone."

oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo

They walked down empty pavements, along rows of dilapidated terraces, past nursery schools and a community hall, all the while they would periodically glance over their shoulders at Mavis who, to her word, was walking far behind. Lily did not relinquish her clutch on Harry, however. Fortunately, Harry was in a rare mood in which he did not feel like running off.

It began to drizzle. They picked up their pace and Mavis followed suit, until they came to a row of small local shops. A grimy barber's shop and an Asian mini-market were empty and unoccupied. The only shop that showed signs of life was the greasy spoon café on the corner of the street. Its lights were on inside, and a plump middle-aged woman was bringing coffee to a pair of builders by the window. Without speaking, James and Lily decided that this place, Joan's Caff, was as good a place as any to find breakfast in a run-down Manchester suburb.

Mavis waited outside the café. She was a garish figure, as noticed by the builders sitting in the window, who watched her marching up and down the pavement playing with a yo-yo she'd retrieved from her bag.

"I almost feel sorry for her," Lily commented as they started to eat the breakfasts they'd ordered. Their food had arrived suspiciously quickly, and even if they'd had time to build up an appetite, the cold and oily bacon and eggs they had been presented with were nauseating to look at. Lily persevered for the baby's sake. Even Harry, who normally had the appetite of a large dragon, would not touch the cold bits of toast Lily had torn up for him. He lulled on her lap, bored, tired, and not hungry.

"So..." began Lily. "The plan."

James kept his eyes on his plate as he chewed laboriously on a tough piece of bacon. "Right."

"I'll make sure we're ready to leave by the time you come home. From there, we'll fill in Sirius and Remus on what's happened, we'll find somewhere to spend the night that isn't a mouldy rat's nest and then tomorrow we'll start on your relatives."

James sighed. "Which ones?"

"Well... I don't exactly know, but I'd imagine a good place to start is with your grandfather."

James stopped chewing. "Which one?"

Lily tilted her head to the side. "The nice one, obviously."

"I don't have any nice grandfathers."

"The less awful one, then. The one that sent us money when we got married."

"That wasn't my grandfather. That was my great uncle. They're brothers, they live together."

"Well, let's go and see them!"

"Hmm. Fine."

The doughy middle-aged waitress came over to their table and placed a saucer next to James' plate for the money. She wiped her hands on her apron.

"Oi, do you two know that woman out there?" she asked in a Mancunian accent.

Lily looked out of the window. Mavis was still just outside the door, playing with a yo-yo and smoking her pipe.

"Yes, that's, er... my sister," lied Lily. Their red hair in common was a good enough ground to convince. "She wasn't hungry. She just wanted a smoke."

"She's not all there," explained James, tapping his temple with his fork. "A childhood thing."

"Ohhh... I was about to call the beak on her...she alright out there on her own?"

"Yes, she's fine!" Lily smiled.

The waitress watched Mavis through narrowed eyes for a few seconds longer before returning to the kitchen. To Lily, Mavis looked strange. But to a muggle, she must have looked positively mad. Purple velvet capes were not exactly common in their world.

"Right, let's think of someone else," said Lily, returning to their conversation. "There must be others. Who else is there?"

"Lily, I really don't think any of my relatives are going to want anything to do with us."

"We can only find out! Times have changed. We're carrying on their family line, that might sell us. It's not like we're going to go door-to-door begging for money, that's not what this is about. This is about getting our shit together. We can start by establishing who we've got around us."

James closed his eyes and rested his head on his hand.

"James, what's wrong?"

He lifted his head and looked at her with sad, tired eyes. "Thinking about Peter."

Lily put her fork down and covered his hand with hers. "We all thought he was loyal. Don't upset yourself. Fear got the better of him."

"I didn't think he was capable of... something like that. The four of us were like brothers and-"

"He was a coward and a traitor. There was no way you could have known."

"It scares me that people find it that easy to betray someone."

Lily stood up, keeping hold of his hand, and walked around the table to sit beside him. "Don't lose your faith in people because of one idiot. Sirius and Remus would never do something like that to us. You have to admit, Peter was always a bit displaced among the four of you."

"I never noticed."

Lily rubbed his hand. "I'd never break your trust."

James gave a sad smile. "I know."

"You need to talk to your friends. Things have changed between you and you haven't properly talked about what happened with Peter."

"I will. I'll talk to my grandfather too. I'll get us on the right track."

Lily smiled. "It'll all come together. Bellatrix will slip up and get caught, you'll finish your training and be deployed to round up all the other scumbags, we'll find a home and the baby will arrive and we'll all be happy again. It'll all happen in that order."

James rested his head on her shoulder and placed a hand on her bulging tummy. "Now would be a good time for you to show your face, Ginger. We could really use some joy right now."

"Don't call it 'Ginger'!" she flicked him on the earlobe. "And it needs a few more months to cook. That gives us some time for Bellatrix to get locked up before it arrives."

"Have you felt it kick yet?"

Lily frowned. "No."

James sat up. "Perhaps you should see a healer."

"I'll drop by St Mungo's later. I've got nothing else to do."

"Shit, I need to get to training!"

James stood up and scooted out from the table. He gave Lily and Harry quick kisses and dashed out of the door.

Within seconds, the waitress was back in the front of house.

"Your bloke didn't pay."

oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo

Thankfully, St Mungo's was quiet. It was the first time Lily had ventured into the wizarding world for some time, and the prospect of recognition unnerved her.

"I can give ye a chocolate bar?" Mavis offered. She was sat next to Lily on the waiting chairs in an empty corridor, outside a door that said "Consulting Rooms and Bits of Advice".

"No thanks."

"Perhaps I can give one tae ye boy? Ma bag's full 'o' grub."

"You can offer some to him if you like."

"I'll do that!"

Even more daunting than the venturing into public was the process of pregnancy as a witch. As a muggle-born, Lily had known virtually nothing of the science of reproduction in the wizarding world. She had learnt from her pure-blood friends at Hogwarts that it was believed that muggles only gave birth in hospitals because doctors were so fixated on being able to cut people up if they could. For witches, childbirth sounded medieval to Lily. It occurred at home, or wherever you dropped, and a medi-witch would have to be summoned from wherever you could find one.

This meant that pregnancy monitoring was, unfortunately, entirely guesswork.

"Ya boy's not hungry, Missus. I think he's tired."

"Maybe."

Lily was fidgeting nervously, pulling at loose threads on the hem of her coat. Harry had only woke up two hours ago, and was not due for a nap. Lily didn't imagine Mavis cared to hear Harry's routine.

There was a pile of newspapers on a small table next to Lily's chair. She'd picked one up, a copy of the Daily Prophet, and was immediately sickened by the picture of Bellatrix Lestrange on the front, grinning and prancing about for the camera. It was an old picture. Lily knew from Andromeda that Bellatrix had been a teenager when Voldemort had shown an interest in her. If that was the case, and this picture was taken before that time, she could've only been about sixteen in the picture. She looked to old to be so. A womanly figure and a sophisticated black dress. But her face was fuller than Lily had seen in the flesh. Puppy fat. Just a girl.

LESTRANGE TERRORIZES MINISTRY

Must the Prophet's headlines always be so big, bold and ominous?

She hastily turned the page, and a few more pages, until news of torture and panic dissipated into more tame stories. Her gaze landed on a picture of the England Quidditch Team, levitating on their brooms in the middle of their practice pitch in a semi-circle formation, jokingly tossing a beach ball between them in place of a quaffle.

ENGLAND PREPARES FOR BRAZIL 1982

Half of the England team was unrecognisable now. During Lily and James' courtship days, James' passion for Quidditch had begun to rub off on her. Remus and Peter were not wild about the game and Sirius, who studied muggle sports like a puritan studies the Bible, cared for Quidditch surprisingly little. Lily could once recite all the names of the England players, and even some of James' Quidditch heroes from overseas. Now, most of the good players had resigned and gone into hiding, and hadn't re-emerged.

It was a nice idea, having the World Cup in Brazil. It was a sunny place for British fans to flock to. It seemed everyone in the wizarding world was in need of a holiday. Lily closed her eyes and imagined being in Brazil right now. Hot sandy beaches, jungles and waterfalls, misty mountains, the colour-loud carnivals in the streets of Rio. Lily had never been abroad before, and everything she imagined she'd seen in films or pictures. It was embarrassing how poorly-travelled she was. James had been on family holidays to Switzerland and America as a child. Lily's family had never been able to afford places for her or Petunia on the annual Year 5 school day trip to France. Harry would never suffer such an indignity. He would swim in crystal-clear oceans and explore jungles and climb mountains one day. The whole family would travel the world together.

There was a click. Lily opened her eyes. The door to the advice department opened of its own accord.

"Ah, there ye go! Good luck!" Mavis beamed at her, crossing her fingers.

Lily gulped and stood up. She held her hand out for Harry to take, but he did not move from where he sat beside Mavis. Rolling her eyes, she picked him up. Carrying a toddler was becoming difficult but she was too anxious to battle with his will.

She carried him down the long corridor, either side of which was a series of shuttered windows, with plaques at the top of them reading things like, "Madness, Hysteria and Nervous Dispositions", "Non-magic Sickness and Fever", "Sexual Hiccups", "Home Remedies" and "Pregnancy, Childbirth and Infants". It was to this window that Lily came.

Unsure of what to do, she knocked on the shutter.

Immediately, the shutter was renched upwards and a grey-haired gruff-looking witch was staring her in the face.

"Yes?"

Taken aback, Lily swallowed. "Um... I have a... concern about... my baby."

The witch squinted at Harry. "The thing on his head? Looks magic-induced. You need Spell Damage for that."

"Oh, no, um, not him, I'm pregnant with another one."

"Oh..." the witch glanced down at her belly, then back up to her face. "Are you Lily Potter?"

Lily bit her lip nervously. "Yes, Madam."

"Huh. Killed that Tom Riddle, did you?"

"Um... it's complicated."

"Huh... alright, come in."

The witch stood back. The part of the wall on which her window was placed swung backwards like a door. Lily stepped through, into a room with two chairs placed in front of a desk. In the corner was an examining table.

"My name's Healer Bones. Yes, how ironic. Yes, I get it a lot. What's your worry, then?"

"Er, the baby hasn't kicked yet and... should it have kicked by now?" Lily was already starting to feel stupid.

"How pregnant are you?" asked the witch, who sat on the desk and focused on Lily's belly.

"I don't know. I think about five months."

"Hmm. Some don't kick 'til seven. Lie on there, I'll take a look at it." She pointed to the examining table in the corner. Lily put Harry down on one of the chairs and then unbuttoned her coat.

She'd been a healthy child. She'd only ever been in a muggle hospital when her parents got sick. The clinical formality of hospitals was not lost in the magical world.

"Hike your dress up around your breasts, love. I need to see the belly."

Starting to feel hot around her cheeks, Lily awkwardly pulled her dress up to her chest. At least she had tights on.

"I'm putting a screen up."

The witch pulled out her wand and flicked it around Lily's chest. Black smoke began to form into a wall around her chest, hiding her belly from sight.

"Oh... why?" asked Lily.

"People are weirded-out by fetuses."

"Oh, okay."

Lily could not see what the witch was doing, but judging by the sudden glow of red omitting from where Lily's belly was, she'd cast a silent charm to see into her womb. Seeing the red light reflected against the walls and ceiling, she was actually glad she could not see.

"Looks fine to me," said the witch. "Heart's beating. Alive and kicking... so to speak."

Lily smiled, trying to picture what the witch was seeing. Her baby, albeit looking much like an alien, with a beating heart and fingers and toes...

"Is it a boy or a girl?" she asked.

"Couldn't say. Its legs are crossed funny. You'll find out eventually."

Lily tried not to be disappointed. Though it would have been nice to have some small shred of certainly about her future, she knew from experience that her heart would explode for her child no matter how it turned out.

When she was pregnant with Harry, she'd prayed for a girl, only to be spared the terror of fulfilling Sybil Trelawney's prophecy. It had been Bathilda Bagshott who'd delivered her baby at Godric's Hollow, and when she placed him in Lily's arms and she saw that she had a son, the fear she felt for him was just a small black spot in the blinding flash of adoration she felt for her child.

"I wouldn't worry about the baby, Mrs Potter," the witch helped her sit up. "But I'd keep an eye on your boy. He looks peeky."

Puzzled, Lily slipped down from the examining table and walked round the chair to look at Harry. Sure enough, his face was drained of colour and his eyelids were drooping.

"Oh God!"

"You don't half worry a lot, Mrs Potter! Just take him home and put him to bed. He'll probably be dandy in the morning."

Lily scooped Harry up from the chair and cuddled him to her.

"Thank you for your time, Madam," she said to the witch before hastily departing.

How had she not noticed her son's uncharacteristic behaviour? He was always hungry, he was never tired. He never sat still. How could she possibly ignore that?

"All good, Missus?" asked Mavis when she walked out.

"Harry's getting sick. We need to go home."

Lily walked straight past her for the lift, leaving her to run along behind her.

"Eh, hang on, I thought ye was in there fer the baby!"

"I was."

"Did yer get the baby checked on?"

"Yes, it's fine, but Harry's not."

"Ye having a lad or lass?"

"Neither- er, she couldn't see."

They entered the lift. Lily scanned the buttons. Harry began to cry.

"Ssshhhhh. I need Pepperup Potion. The shop upstairs, does it sell antidotes?"

"Ah no, but it does sell sandwiches!"

"Merlin's sake, I don't have the stuff to make it myself. Mavis, would you go to Diagon Alley and-"

"Whoa there, Missus Potter, I'm ye guard, not ye servant."

Lily blinked. "But... MY SON IS SICK!"

Mavis raised her hands in defence. "Missus Potter. I admire and respect ye, but yer bedside manner is unseemly. Ye boy is a wee bit fatigued. Ya need tae light that fire in ye fire drum. Keep him warm, like. He'll be fighing fit in a few days. It's just a cold."

Lily took a deep breath. She closed her eyes. Harry's cries were like a cat's claws scratching at her heart, but he needed a rational mother, not a hysterial one.

"You're probably right, Mavis."

"Ye can send ye husband tae Diagon Alley later if it'll ease your nerves."

Another deep breath. "Yes. You're right."

She looked at the buttons again and saw something that sent her head crackling and her heart groaning.

Fourth Floor- Spell Damage.

It seemed that Lily's obliviousness was a chronic condition.

She had not seen the Longbottoms since Christmas, nor had she even attempted to contact Frank's mother. When had she become such a careless friend? Since motherhood? Since the war?

Harry continued to cry in her arms. She automatically pressed the button for the exit, but felt her soul ache for the two trapped ones upstairs.

oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo

Two hours into the training session, and James was performing his worst defence spells he'd ever managed. Even Bertie, whose spell work was lacklustre to say the least, was watching him with concern and hesitating to engage him in the pair work. They had been assigned basic practice in attacking and defence. So far, Bertie was crushing James. Every ten seconds, Bertie would aim a jinx at James. Almost every time, James was knocked backwards or hit with pain. What was his problem? Perhaps the breakfast earlier was not agreeing with his system. But as far as he knew, food poisoning did not cause you to sway.

"Mister Potter, you're embarrassing me today," said Etta Gamble, sauntering over to him. "Do you need to rest?"

Etta was being softer towards him today. Less teasing. Fewer taunts. She'd been to his house the previous night to warn him of Bellatrix. She knew his situation.

"No, Miss..." said James wearily, wiping his brow. "I'll try harder."

Etta shrugged and walked away.

"Er... James? I don't like jinxing vulnerable people."

"I'm not vulnerable, I'm tired. I'm sure they'll be days on the job where I'll be tired, it's not an excuse. Go again."

"You sure?"

But James couldn't answer. The room was swaying.

"James?"

His head spun. The room turned upside down. He hit the floor.

oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo

A/N: A few days ago I turned 21, which is how old James and Lily were when they died. Shit.

N x