Dear Mr Potter,

I will not be taking your money. If I go to Gringotts and find that the transaction is irreversible, I shall be very cross. The money will go towards my son and daughter-in-law's medical expenses, but I am perfectly capable of providing for my grandson and myself. Your gesture, kind though it is, is somewhat patronising.

I have, however, decided to take your advice. Neville and I will be staying in Canada, with some past school-friends of mine. Whilst the trip is for safety purposes, I shall be rather glad of the scenery change.

I hope you are well,

Augusta Longbottom.

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James walked through the endless corridors of Remus' apartment building to get to his rooms. The dark red wallpaper that lined every hallway was presumably chosen to make the place feel warmer. It didn't work.

Remus opened the door with messy hair and a cigarette in his mouth.

"Password?"

"I hope you don't expect me to stand around in this ridiculous temperature outside during a full moon, Remus," said James, stepping into the apartment.

"Oh, It'll be fine," replied Remus, shutting the door behind him. "There are deer all over the place here. They thrive in the cold."

"It's gotten colder as summer's arrived."

"I'm not sure what to tell you, Prongs, I don't control the weather."

Remus had three rooms: a bathroom, a bedroom and a main room, which was sparse except for a sofa, a two-person dining table and chairs, a shoddy kitchenette and reams of paper all over the floor.

"Sorry about the mess," said Remus, shutting the door behind James. "It's work stuff."

"More wolf laws?"

"Swedish wolf laws," he stepped into the middle of it all, crouched down and began to roll pieces of parchment together. "They're a lot kinder than British laws but by Merlin, they're complicated."

"You always were the messiest of us," smiled James, tip-toeing in between the papers towards the sofa. "Even more than Peter..."

Remus stopped shuffling papers.

It had been a long time since James had said Peter's name aloud. He began to deeply contemplate him, as he had been doing often recently. But he noticed a piece of parchment on the floor by his foot, and it did not look like Swedish law. He picked it up and read what was written at the top.

"'La Papillon', by Remus Lupin... you don't speak French, Remus..."

Remus lunged and snatched the parchment from him. "Don't read my stuff."

"Well, if you will line the floor with it like you're house-training a puppy... Is it a poem?"

"Maybe."

"You write poetry?"

Remus shrugged. "Sometimes."

"You're a poet?"

Remus winced. "It's just stuff, James. Mindless crap."

Remus stood up and disappeared into his bedroom with the parchment.

"Can I read some?" James called.

Remus walked back into the living room and sighed. "You don't like poetry," he said, stooping to extinguish his cigarette on a saucer on the floor.

"'Course I do, if it's good."

"Then you'll hate mine."

James twisted round and leaned over the back of the sofa onto the window sill. Snow was falling lightly, but starting to settle. It was raining where Lily was.

"Lily likes poetry," James said. He knew he wasn't supposed to mention Lily's book, so didn't. But it was hard not to want to jump up and down about the book when Remus himself liked to write. He knew Remus liked literature. He was imaginative and wordy, which was why he and Lily had got on so well at Hogwarts. Remus' loyalty to James was quite possibly what drove Lily to look past James' idiocy in the first place.

"Do you think about Peter much?" Remus asked him suddenly.

James starting pulling at frayed threads on the back of the sofa. "Yeah."

"Me too. Every day, actually."

James looked over his shoulder at his friend, who was squinting at him through the brightness of the cold day outside. "It's weird."

"What is?"

"I hate him, but I miss him."

James looked away from him.

"I don't mean that I want him to come back. He can rot in Azkaban for all I care."

James scoffed. "That'll never happen..."

"Sadly not... but I miss him like you miss a dead person. You know when someone you've only met once or twice dies, and it plays on your mind? You can't stop thinking about that person's brief presence on your life... they were alive and they had thoughts and... Peter was like a brother to me and now he's just... gone. I know he's not dead, but he's gone."

James turned around to sit properly on the sofa and face his friend. "What would you do if you saw him again?"

Remus shrugged. "Punch him... demand answers... I'd probably be too busy holding Padfoot back from him. He'd try to kill him."

James leaned back into the sofa. "I forgive him, you know."

"Padfoot?"

"No, Peter."

Remus sat upright. He looked at James as though he'd been betrayed. "You nearly died because of him."

"I know."

"Harry nearly died because of him. What kind of man lets their best friend's child get killed?"

"I never said I understand him."

"But you forgive him?"

"He's a coward," James said simply. "Not my problem, is it."

"Well, it might have been, if he'd KILLED you..."

James rolled his eyes. "He didn't try to kill me. He was just scared of getting killed himself. He's probably sorry for what he did."

"Are you stupid?!"

James looked out of the window again pensively. "I want to make a mobile for Harry..."

"James!"

"I don't want to hate anyone," James explained finally. "What's hate going to get me? How is it going to make me a better father? How is it going to pay for a house?"

Remus looked exasperated. "I know hatred doesn't do anyone any favours, but it's not something you can choose! Love and hate: you can't choose who you love, you can't choose who you hate..."

"You can choose who you love..." replied James, as though it were obvious. "Of course you can."

Remus stared at his friend as though he'd lost his mind.

"Love is easy. Hating someone's easy too. Trying to fall out of love is hard, and forgiving someone is hard. I'll admit that."

"You can forgive someone led a murderer to your son?"

"When you put it like that, I do sound like a mad prick."

"Yes."

"I don't want Harry to see me as a hateful man."

"He wouldn't!"

You don't understand, James wanted to say. You don't have children. But what it fatherhood that had made James forgive Peter? He could never be forgiven entirely. Just enough for James to move on. It all boiled down to this: Harry deserved the best. That included the best parents. Rather than continue to hate Peter on principle, James had decided that he'd rather show Harry that hatred gets you nothing, and forgiveness sets you free.

"Peter is a cowardly fuckwit bastard, alright?" said James to appease Remus. "And I won't have him back as our friend for all the galleons in Gringotts. But wherever he is, if he's even alive, he has to live with himself. I'd prefer to move on. Now, are you coming to ours for dinner or what?"

"Can't," said Remus, though appearing to be gladdened by James' reasoning. "I'm going out."

James grinned. "Man or woman?"

"It's not a date. Some friends from work have invited me to see a band."

James raised his eyebrows. "Friends? You have other friends?"

"Yes I do," said Remus defiantly. "We go out and get drunk and go to parties and spend the weekend hungover like most twenty two-year-olds do. That's my thing."

"Your thing?"

"You've got your kids and your training, Sirius has got his shop and his wedding... I've got my philanthropic do-gooder job and my firewhisky, music and parties with people who have never had a curse fired at them, and have never seen a dead body. You have a point about moving on, you know. It's good for me."

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The following day, the auror trainees trudged out of the Grettadam Chamber, sweaty and exhausted from combat. On his way out, James was assaulted by another tiring sight: a queue of Ministry workers holding out money for the newspaper seller, desperate for a copy of the latest Daily Prophet.

James could see the front cover of someone's copy as he walked past: the same laughing picture of Bellatrix Lestrange, underneath the headline: WHERE IS BELLATRIX LESTRANGE?

James rolled his eyes and almost walked away, had he not recognised one of the men holding a Prophet.

"Ted?"

Ted looked up at James with an expression somewhere between pleased and confused. He wore a flat farmer's cap and a leather jacket at least three sizes too big for him: muggle clothing which even James knew were not worn together.

"Hi..." Ted looked up and down at James. "I thought you were in hiding."

James grimaced. "I'm spending some time abroad. But I'm still training, see?" James moved aside to show Ted the group of auror trainees who were emerging from the mysterious training chamber, nursing sore arms and rubbing aching temples.

"Oh wow... aurors... they always look imposing, don't they? Are they your friends?"

"Well... yes, I suppose so," James turned and looked for those he had spoken to before. "VALENTINE!" he called after the shaven-headed woman. "VALENTINE!"

Valentine scowled at him as she walked past. "Bite me, Potter. I'll win next time."

"I beat her in combat..." James whispered to Ted. Then, a tall muscular red-haired man walked past. "BERTIE! That's Bertie Weasley. He's great. OI, BERTIE!"

Bertie Weasley looked over, and saw his comrade. He smiled and lifted a hand to wave, and promptly tripped over and fell to the floor.

James looked awkwardly at Ted. "There are two years left of training."

"Ah. Um, keep at it then. Fancy some tea? I was going to Diagon Alley..."

James smiled at Ted appreciatively. "Yeah, alright."

It was nice to be spontaneous for once, despite the danger of the times. It made him feel like a teenager again, even if it was just tea.

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They sat at a table outside Florean Fortescue's, Ted with a tea and pumpkin pasty, James with a coffee. He was admiring the book he'd just purchased from Obscuro- Azkaban's Veterans: Where Are They Now? He re-read the title of the latter book, and it made him think.

"Has the Ministry been bothering Andromeda about her sister?"

Ted wiped flakes of pastry from his lips and nodded. "They interrogated her at the wizengamot three times, and we've had aurors watching our house."

James swallowed his guilt. "Do you think they might... suspect her?"

Ted shrugged, and wiped his hands on a napkin. "Some do. I think they're more worried about Bellatrix going to Andromeda for help more than anything. But of course, some people suspect Andromeda of helping her. Not officially, but there are people in the street who..." Ted looked around at the alley crowds. He lowered his head, and leant closer to James. "She's her sister. We'll never shake that, and I knew what I was getting into when Andromeda and I first started seeing each other. It doesn't bother me who she is, but it bothers me how all this affects my daughter." Ted sat back upright, and took a deep breath. "She goes to Hogwarts in September. Believe me, I know she can handle herself. My wife always says she might one day become the Minister purely out of dumb luck and precociousness. But Hogwarts is a bleak place when you've got a stigma attached to you and I should know."

Silence fell between them. Ted toyed uncomfortably with the table cloth while James processed this.

"The times are bit shit, aren't they?"

"Yep."

"I'm sorry, Ted."

Ted gave a half-smile. "Not your fault."

The pair sat together in silence for a while, sipping their drinks. Then, Ted picked up his copy of the Daily Prophet and attempted to break the ice.

"I don't know why I buy this anymore," he said with a sigh. "It's stuffy. They play it too safe. Not to mention the writing's awful."

James looked around. Ted was not the only person in the vicinity to be looking at the Prophet.

"What's the story?" he asked. "What does it say?"

"Nothing. It's just an editorial. Headlines about her sell like hot-cakes, so they print her on the front cover every day with a pointless article about how her rampage has shaken the wizarding world. There's no real news."

James rolled his eyes.

"I prefer Tiger Eye myself. They tell it like it is. It's for people who believe in equality, who want the truth. They have a music section, you know. They list all the upcoming gigs. None of the pompous, boring tripe that's in here..." Ted held the newspaper up to his face. He was now side-by-side with Bellatrix. "This woman. My sister-in-law. My daughter's aunt. Can you believe it?"

James shook his head vaguely. Ted's mention of gigs made James think of Remus, and his new friends and their plans. He was glad Remus had a social life. It was about time, after years of planning and hiding and fighting battles. But Ted? Did Ted go out these days? How could he leave his family at home when his wife's sister would quite possibly target them?

"I have to go," James said suddenly, rising from his chair. "Thanks for the coffee."

Ted looked up at him, surprised and saddened. "Oh. Already?"

"Lily's at home with Harry... can't leave her in the lurch."

Ted looked down at his newspaper, and held it up again. "Is it her? You're scared of her?"

"No," James said quickly. "I just..."

"She might never be caught, you know."

James hesitated.

"Her family's rich. Narcissa's rich. Bellatrix could buy all the glamour charms, all the protection she wanted."

"She's a psychopath, Ted."

Ted sighed. "Andromeda said I shouldn't worry so much. So, here I am. I thought you were one of the defiant ones."

James almost snapped at him, but didn't. Ted was kind, and sensitive. Besides, he didn't have the energy to argue.

"I have to get home to my family," James told him, and started to leave.

"Don't forget your book!" Ted said quickly, picking it up and holding it out to him.

"Thanks..." he replied, taking them.

"I'll see you at Sirius' wedding, won't I?"

It took James a moment to remember Ted even knew Sirius. Really, Ted was closer to Sirius than to James.

"Yeah. See you there."

Ted nodded sadly. "Stay safe, I guess."

Why was Ted so heart-breakingly sad? James felt like a mother hen, wracked with guilt for leaving him.

"Yeah... stay safe."

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At home, Lily was feeding cucumber sticks to Harry. James knew he needn't have worried, or rushed from Diagon Alley. In fact, he felt disappointed. He tried to ignore this disappointment; what was wrong with wanting to protect one's family? It was actually brave of him to face judgment from himself and his friends for hiding in Sweden.

Who was he kidding? There was no shaking the feeling of isolation. He couldn't help but think that he was doing something wrong. His friends, despite the danger, were impulsive, carefree, excited by life. They were being young, as they deserved to be.

Lily managed to wrangle these thoughts out of James that night, and she reminded him of what they had to lose. She promised him that at the weekend, they would pack a bag and leave the cabin to explore. It wasn't much, but it was something to do. They would pack sandwiches and fruit and a butterbeer for him. It was a little thing, Lily admitted pink-faced. It would just be a nice outing. They would have a little time to enjoy Sweden with Harry as their only concern.

James cooked for her that evening. He rubbed her shoulders whilst she read her book. Later, when Harry was asleep, he drew her a bath and she refused to get in without him. In bed, he pleasured her. Afterwards, they talked of Sweden. How beautiful it was, how good it was for Harry to be around nature and fresh air, how calming it was for them all. They talked of placed they would go next: Why did their travels have to end with the capture of Bellatrix? When they tired of Sweden, they could try Italy. Or Australia, or New York City. They could happily become nomads. But they wanted stability. A permanent home to replace the one that had perished. They would find it, but not without first exploring a little bit of the world.

The following day, James returned to Diagon Alley. In TerrorTours, he enquired about glamoured streets, wizarding settlements abroad and abandoned buildings. He knew Sirius' wedding to be in Normandy, where Isabelle's family owned a castle. They needn't leave Normandy straight after the wedding... Lily had always wanted to explore France, and James had a knack for impressive surprises.

While he was sat at a desk with a witch recommending cities and landscapes, James heard a disturbance outside. He looked behind him out of the window, and saw crowds converging on a poor young boy who had tomorrow's editions of the Daily Prophet floating beside him, ready to distribute.

James looked away. Another sensationalist story about Lestrange, no doubt. He would read it in the morning, when Cadwal brought it to him at breakfast.

And he would regret not reading the newspaper sooner. In the morning, he would see the headline and wish he had joined the crowds outside. He would rush to St Mungos, the rest of the story unread.

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A/N: Thank you for all the kind reviews & messages. I read them all, and they all made me smile.

These chapters are coming in faster than you normally get. I'll try to keep it up, unless you feel bombarded. I'm going through my just-left-university-unemployment phase, so this is what I do with my day.