February in Paris was cold and wet and Lily wouldn't have had it any other way. Their days were spent under the umbrella, laughing and splashing one another in puddles, dancing on arched-brick walkways that reflected warm lights from storefront windows, and long kisses in snow flurries in front of the beautiful French architecture. James would hold her waist and lift her over puddles and she would giggle when he shook his head to get the rain drops off his hair like a shaggy dog. Every night, they sat for hours and hours and hours on their little balcony overlooking the portico, the Eiffel Tower looming in the distance like a tiny reminder of the specialness of the moments they were sharing.
Looking back on their time in Paris together, for all the rest of time, they would remember those days as the days that drew them the closest together. What they were learning anew was all the little things about one another that came out when one was completely free to be themselves with no distractions. There was no school work or work-work or friends or anything that interrupted their being near each other and it was like they were getting to know one another like the cogs in a piece of clockwork fitting together perfectly.
Lily lay in James's arms one morning, so early that the sun hadn't come up yet, their skin pressed together and his arms around her back, gently holding her shoulder as she lay curled into his side, her head on his chest, fingertips drawing soft hearts against his sternum.
"James?" she whispered.
"Hm?"
"My magique amor won't be complete without you."
He was quiet.
"Please."
She could hear his heart beat, could hear it pick up as his body tensed slightly under her.
"Why don't you want me to feel you, James?" she whispered.
He closed his eyes. "Because, Evans, I don't want to be the reason why you feel any sort of pain."
"It pains me to know that I haven't done everything I can to protect you... to be close to you..."
He drew a deep breath through his nose and let it out in a long, low gust.
"James..."
He rolled from under her, sliding his arm back, and sat up, his legs hanging over the side of the bed. The span of his bare back faced her and she could see the outline of his spine, a few small brown freckles that dotted his back across his shoulders blades. His shoulders were thick, muscular, leading off into his rather strong biceps... but the way he was sitting, the way his shoulders curved slightly... Lily could feel the heaviness in the posture, even without touching him, even without having that connection that the Magique Amour could give her. She could see the burden on them.
"You carry so much, honey," she whispered. "I just want to help you carry it."
James's voice was small. "I don't want you to think different of me, though."
"Think different of you?" Lily whispered. She drew her legs up and crawled over to to him carefully, kneeling behind him, wrapping her arms under his arms so that her hands met on his chest, and she pressed her face against the nape of his neck, kissing the spot where his spine met his shoulders. "I could never think differently of you. You're so brave and good, God James - you're so good."
He was quiet.
"I know that I didn't understand for so many years and maybe that's what you're scared of, but I was wrong all that time and if I had anyway to go back and change all that... to see you for who you were from the very first day... No one else would've sat with me in that compartment, with my face all red from crying. You did, though. You could've sat anywhere on the train and you chose to sit with a blubbering girl... and to ask if I was alright. And I should have let that moment define how I saw you all the rest of the time I've known you."
James murmured, "I was nervous about going, too."
"What? To Hogwarts? You with your little Gryffindor trainers?" Lily smiled.
"Yeah," James's voice was quiet, "I was just as scared as you were... deep down. I'd never been away from my mum and dad before." He paused. "I couldn't leave you there blubbering, and, blimey, I'd have been a right hypocrite if I'd made fun of you for crying."
Lily kissed his shoulder. "See? You're so good." James was staring down at the floor still, he hadn't moved since he'd rolled to the side. She ran her palms over his chest and nuzzled against the crook of his neck. "I couldn't ever see you differently in a hundred thousand years."
"I hated myself for rescuing Maryrose. I - I regretted it. When she died - in this timeline, I mean, I - I was so angry. And I mean, I know I was sort of supposed to be angry, but it wasn't just angry like I should've been - like with grief for her - but I was angry because all the things I did, all the suffering I went through Fifth year, all the things I lost because of --" he stopped himself from saying because of her, and he rephrased, "-- because of going back in time... that's what I was grieving. And blimey if that doesn't make me a real arsehole, I don't know what does."
Lily said, "There's a difference between feeling remorse and being an arsehole, James, honey. You can regret your loss, that doesn't change the fact that you did it. Nor does it mean that if you were in the same position that you wouldn't do it again. If it meant saving someone, you'd do it again."
James was quiet a moment. Then. "Doesn't that scare you?"
"Scare me?"
"That if the right - or maybe the wrong, depending how you look at it - opportunity came up that I'd just... change everything?"
Lily whispered, "I know you'd never do it for anything that wasn't entirely necessary." Then she got up, slid off the bed and came around to kneel before him, to look up into his eyes, her hands grabbing onto his. She stared into his face, wanting him to really hear, to really see how much she meant what she was about to say. "But it's not your job, James. It was never your job. You were caught up in something so much bigger than you, and it's okay that you don't understand it or that it's scary, because yes, it is..." she paused. HIs face was so... anguished. Suddenly, she couldn't help thinking of Harry - her Harry, their Harry - standing at the opposite end of Voldemort's wandlight, how anguished and world-worn her Harry had looked... how much like his father looked now. A chill went through her suddenly.
What will Harry have been through?
"I would do the same thing," she whispered.
His eyes met hers.
"If I thought I was to save you... or - or someone else," she murmured. "I'd do anything. I'd give anything I had to give and then some. I'd go through a thousand deaths, a million pains, just to keep you from it."
"I've already been through them, Evans," he whispered.
"I know you have, James."
"And I'm afraid that there's more to come."
"Don't say that," Lily whispered, shaking her head.
"I can still hear him laughing, did you know that?"
"What?"
"Sometimes at night, when it's really quiet, I can hear him laughing at me. I can still hear You Know Who cackling at me. He would use the cruciatus and he would laugh and dare me to get up and defy him again. He would tell me horrid things... and the cruciatus, it's not all physical pain. After a time, when you've had it put upon you long enough, when your body's had enough of it and your nerve endings can't feel it anymore, it's like it attacks your brain. I knew it was him talking but I would hear what he said in Sirius's voice - or in Remus's voice - or in - in your voice, Evans. All those terrible things."
"No, no," she whispered, shaking her head.
"Yeah," James answered, "And he would laugh at me when I begged for him to stop... he laughed at me when I begged for death. He mocked me for asking for death. Called me a coward for wanting to die."
"You're not a coward."
"I was though because - I didn't care if he had the satisfaction of killing me anymore. I didn't. I just wanted it to be over. I didn't care if it meant that he had won. And I reckon that's the bit that made it cowardly, what I did. Because me dying wasn't me winning - like sometimes people face death and they're so brave because their death means something. But my death wouldn't have meant anything there in that cell - nothing except his amusement. And bloody hell if I've got to face death, I want it to be like a man, with some purpose to it, you know? Not laying in my own filth with no thought except to get the hell away from the sound of - of your voice laughing at me."
Lily shivered. "Well you're not allowed to die, James Potter. And if there ever comes a time..." she searched his eyes, "You'll take my heart with you. Whether we're connected by Magique Amour or not."
He almost let her do it that night.
But instead, he looked away, breaking their eye contact, and pointed out that the sun was coming up outside the window and hadn't they better be getting on with their day? After all, there was only ---
"FOUR MORE SLEEPS UNTIL FREDDIE!"
Sirius started doing a conga down the hallway, shaking his rump side to side as he spun his hands and waved an imaginary maraca side to side. "Dooo-do-doot-do-dodo! Dooo-doo-doot-do-dodo!"
Remus pinched his nose and went for the chocolate milk.
"Remus, will you remember me when I've been invited to become a full time groupie for the band?" Sirius asked.
Remus said, "Freddie would send you back fairly quick, I reckon."
Sirius barked a laugh and wove his arm 'round Remus's shoulder. "I'll never forget you, my Moon and stars."
"Uh huh."
"I'll come back on -- Wednesdays, Commonwealth Day, and the Swan Upping, of course."
"Of course, for who could expect you to miss the Swan Upping," Remus said dryly.
"Only a bloody fool is who."
Remus folded his copy of the Daily Prophet, coming to terms with the idea that Sirius wasn't going to go away anytime soon and trying to read the paper wasn't going to happen no matter how hard he fought for the ability to concentrate.
Sirius set to singing as he made himself breakfast.
"I was just a skinny lad, never knew no good from bad, but I knew life before I left my nursery, left alone with a big fat Fanny, she was such a naughty nanny... heap big woman, you made a bad boy out of meee! hey hey! I've been singing with my band, across the wire, across the land... I've seen every blue-eyed floozy on the way... But their beauty and their style, went kinda smooth after a while... take me to them dirty ladies everyyyy time!"
Remus shook his head and unfolded his paper again.
"Remus," Sirius said almost immediately after the paper was unfolded.
Remus sighed and re-folded it. "Yes, Padfoot?"
"What do you reckon I should say to Freddie if I were really truly to meet him?"
"Tell him that you're married and your husband has a nice ass," Remus answered.
Sirius grinned. "Alright, I'm sure that would come up in conversation anyway." He paused, then, "No seriously. What do you say to someone that fabulous?"
"Tell him he's fabulous, maybe.
"I only get one shot if it, Remus... Meeting Freddie Mercury isn't something which happens everyday to every individual, I reckon.... I really need to put some thought into this. D'you reckon I should write it out? I think I should write it out." Sirius darted from the room to get a quill and notebook.
Remus sighed and lifted his paper again.
"Barking mad," Remus murmured, "I hope Freddie Mercury does take him for a bit. One less nutter I have to deal with 'round here, bleedin' hell..."
Dorcas Meadowes flipped pancakes with her wand, her eyes wandering to the little rectangular image she'd magnetized to the refrigerator door in her tiny apartment kitchen upon returning from her appointment. She hummed as she whipped air into a few eggs and danced herself about as she stirred in the vegetables needed for the omelette she knew Gideon loved. Orange juice in champagne flutes with just a tiny bit of sparkling water in them - not champagne itself, mind, because that was a no-no - she smiled, running her fingers over the curve of her belly. Well, it wasn't too much of a curve yet. Most people wouldn't even have noticed. But she noticed. Dorcas Meadowes could feel it already in there.
She was singing. "You're havin' my baby... what a lovely way of sayin' how much you love me... havin' my baby..."
She arranged everything just-so on a tray... plucking the little sonogram from the fridge. The speckled, grainy ickle babe in the sonogram kicked sweetly... She couldn't imagine how awful having a muggle sonogram would be - surely the baby wouldn't even look like a baby if it wasn't for the motion and the baby made even her own would only look like a giant bean. Thank goodness for moving photos!" she thought, staring at the photo before she popped it down so it was leaning against the champagne glass.
She sang all the way back to her bedroom, quieter, though, until it was just a whisper of a breath as she pushed open the door with her hip, tray balanced on one hand.
"Rise and shine, Giddy," she sang now as she scrambled across the room, careful not to step on any of the myriad cats that bespeckled her bedroom floor -- furry landmines, as Gideon called them. She jumped up onto the bed, waving her wand so the tray floated as she snuggled down next to him, "Breakfast in bed love."
Gideon rolled over to look up at her, his eyes still bleary with sleep. "Mornin'," he murmured. "Mm, hang on..." he slipped out of bed, danced carefully 'round the cats and disappeared into the bathroom, returning a moment later with hair smoothed and his dragon breath brushed away. He flung himself back where he'd been laying. "Oooh yes you made a full course breakfast, look at that!"
"It won't be as good as when you make it for me -" she said, "I reckon you've the corner on making wonderful breakfasts..."
"But I know I didn't look near as good as you did making it." He smiled, watching as the morning glory flowers that wrapped up her arms opened their sleepy faces, making her arm glow with gorgeous colored flowers.
She lowered the tray so it balanced on his lap and bit her lip, waiting for him to see the sonogram.
She knew the moment he had, too, because his mouth fell open. He stared at it for several long seconds.
"Surprise," Dorcas whispered.
Gideon picked it up. "Is this a joke or is it real?"
"Real," Dorcas replied solemnly, nervousness in her voice.
He stared at the photo all the more intently, his eyes wide open. "It's not a joke?"
"Not a joke at all."
"You mean it?"
"Yes," Dorcas couldn't tell what he was thinking.
Gideon stared.
"C'mon Gid, you gotta react here babe," she whispered. "Are you - are you upset?"
Gideon's face was blank.
"Giddy! Please!"
He looked up at her. "It's - it's a tiny us!" he said.
"Yes," Dorcas said. "And how do you feel about that?"
"You're such a therapist," he muttered, shaking his head, then, "You're sure you're not joking? This --" he waved the photo, "-- is - is in there?" He pointed at her stomach.
"Yes," she said firmly.
Gideon positively exploded the way a cannon full of confetti might, his words and thoughts flying every which way... and before she knew it, she was shooting a spell to save the tray from flipping clear over as Gideon as on his feet, quite literally jumping for joy.