James stood staring out the bedroom window onto the moon-lit street beyond the stone wall that lined the front of their cottage, the slightest shimmer of the line of the protective charms glinting a pale lavender. Roger was on the bed behind him, pawing at the pillows on James's side.
The door opened and Lily came in quiet from the hallway. She stood by the dresser and took off her jewelry, laying it out on a silver tray she'd placed on top just to hold her most precious things during the night, including her wedding and engagement rings and her mother's earrings which she'd taken to wearing lately. She thought of them as a sort of good luck charm... a funny superstition that she couldn't quite explain.
"James," she said gently.
He turned slowly, as though tearing his gaze from some fascinating outside, though there wasn't anything - he'd just been lost in thought.
Lily was wearing his old number jumper from quidditch and nothing else, the hem of it coming down only just barely enough to cover her upper thighs. She pulled her braid over her shoulder and stared at him nervously. He held out his arm and she crossed the room and tucked herself into his chest as his arm bent around her, and kissed the top of her head. He turned so they were both facing the window.
As though they'd been having a long discussion, despite having not said anything at all since they'd tucked Bradley Scamander in, James suddenly said, "You can do it on one condition."
Lily looked up so fast, she was likely to have gotten whiplash.
He stayed staring out the window.
"What's the condition?" she asked.
"I'll tell you when."
"You'll tell me when?"
"Yes," he said. "I don't want you to do it today, not right now, but I promise that I will let you do it. Just not right now. I'll tell you when."
Lily hesitated. "But James -"
"It isn't much to ask, Evans," he whispered.
Lily nodded, and let it go. She held onto him, hugging his chest and closing her eyes, breathing in his smell. She hesitated, then said, quietly, "I took a test. We're not pregnant yet."
He looked down and her eyes opened and met his. He sighed.
Lily's voice was very soft. "Do you think.." she paused. "Do you think there's something w-wrong with one of us?" she asked, then added, "With me?"
James held her tight. "There's nothing wrong with you Evans."
"Then why --"
"These things take time, love," he whispered.
Lily sniffed and pressed her face into his chest.
"Evans."
She shook her head.
"Listen. It just takes time, okay?" he whispered, and he kissed her forehead. Though inside himself, he was wondering if it wasn't him that might have something wrong. Wasn't that the way it usually went with these things?
Just another thing he was taking up and putting on his shoulders, he realized.
But he didn't want it to rest on hers.
He held her close.
In East London, Sirius Black lay in bed, exhausted his heart racing, Remus curled into him, his face laying against Sirius's chest, listening to the heart beat he'd made so accelerated. The curls at Remus's forehead were soaked with sweat and Sirius ran his hand over Remus's spine, across the puckered silver lines of scars, and over the bumps of vertebrae. Remus's eyes were closed as he tried to catch his breath, even as his body rose and fell with Sirius's breathing.
"We should have serious talks more often," Remus muttered.
"Every talk --"
"Every talk you have is a Sirius talk, I know," Remus panted. He kissed Sirius's chest.
Sirius grinned, his breath still short too, "Am I that predictable, Moony?"
"Yes," Remus murmured, "But don't stop."
"I said that just a few minutes ago, yet here we are," Sirius growled.
Remus laughed, "Do you ever shut up?"
Sirius chuckled.
Remus turned his head so instead of looking at their tangled feet he was looking up at the underside of Sirius's chin and he whispered, "You make my heart take flight, Sirius."
"A flying werewolf," murmured Sirius, "Sounds dangerous."
Remus kissed Sirius's chest, right along the sternum, then sighed and snuggled closer again, closing his eyes once more. He listened for a few more minutes, then he opened his eyes. "Sirius, guess what?"
"What, darling?"
"I went to see the muggle school I've enrolled in for the art classes, and it's wonderful there. They have the most amazing art hanging in the corridors and it's all student made," Remus was trying to recuperate the excitement with which he'd carried home his pamphlets and enrollment forms that day, trying to recapture some of the rapture. "It was simply fantastic... I met a friend while I was there, her name is Lula. She's got this brilliant boyfriend called Stewie and they're taking the same art class as I am... He doesn't need the beginning course, though, he's already incredible as an artist. I can't wait for you to meet them, you'll bloody love them both."
"I already do just because they've got the good sense to be friends with my Moony." Sirius grinned.
"I looked into transferring to the muggle school permanently, and - I want to do it."
"Yeah?
"Yes. I - I already filled out the paper work."
Sirius kissed Remus's head head. "I'm proud of you, Moony."
"You don't think me leaving the uni is a mistake? Or a weakness?"
"Not at all. I think it's brave."
Remus had been yearning for this answer, and for Sirius's pride with him, and he felt his breath catch in his throat and he lay his head back down against Sirius's chest and closed his eyes once more.
"Remus?"
"Sirius?"
"I did love magic on James."
Remus rolled off Sirius's chest and adjusted his positioning so they were side by side, his head on his pillow, looking over at Sirius. Their legs stayed tangled a bit, though. "I'm guessing it didn't go so well?" Remus asked.
"He's holding so fucking much in, Rey."
Remus was quiet.
"When I do love magic," Sirius said slowly, "I sort of... I see and feel stuff that - that happened... even stuff I didn't know about or - or do myself."
Remus swallowed, anxiety budding in him as he knew - just knew - what Sirius was about to say.
"He used a Time Turner," Sirius murmured. He paused, letting those words sink in, and with the lack of response from Remus, Sirius knew that Remus knew already. "When?"
"When what?"
"When did he use the time turner?"
"...Fifth year," Remus murmured.
"When did he tell you?"
Remus fell silent.
"Remus?"
"Sirius?"
"I died in the old timeline."
"I know," Remus whispered.
"I could - I could feel it," Sirius murmured.
"Feel it?"
"My heart stopped in my chest and my blood went cold and I felt -- it felt so weird, Remus. It felt so strange. It felt like being awake while sleeping."
Remus grappled for Sirius's hands.
"I didn't like it," Sirius breathed.
"I don't like it either."
"You felt it?"
"No, I just don't like the idea of you feeling it."
Sirius was silent. They both sat in silence for a very long time. Probably twenty minutes or more, honestly, without saying anything. The only thing that happened during that time was that Remus moved back to his prior position, his head against Sirius's chest again, listening to his heart beat, and feeling more thankful for it than he'd been before, knowing that there had been a moment in time, before things were fixed, where that heartbeat would've been stopped, where his Padfoot would have been taken from him, where this present reality would never have come to be and Sirius Black would have been gone...
Sirius's hands stroked Remus's hair as the silence stretched, his fingers caught up in the strands.
"You Know Who is laced all though his mind," Sirius whispered.
Remus closed his eyes - digesting the painful meaning of the words.
"The way Achlys is in my chest, the way she whispers to me... You Know Who is doing that to James."
"Fuck," Remus murmured.
Sirius was quiet again for a few minutes.
"The werewolf does that to me, too, you know," Remus's voice was immensely quiet, barely a breath.
"What?"
Remus felt a chill run down his spine. He'd never told anyone this. He'd barely allowed himself to know it. He cleared his throat, and curled a bit more into Sirius, his arm wrapped around Sirius's abdomen as he confessed his deepest secret. "I don't think anyone can hear the wolf - not Severus Snape, and I don't think your love magic or Lily's can pick it up... I think that's why you lot said you had a hard go of doing it, why maybe sometimes you can feel me but sometimes you can't... Why Severus Snape's mind reading whatever thing doesn't usually work on me... I'm like a bad radio frequency to him, I'll bet..."
"Because of the wolf?"
Remus nodded against Sirius's chest.
Sirius's hands slid from Remus's hair to his back, and Remus could feel his fingers dig into his flesh, as though holding onto him, protectively.
"It's always there. Just under the surface," Remus said, "The wolf just becomes stronger when the moon is full, and the instinct just becomes impossible to deny. But the Monster is always there, the instinct just waxes and wanes as powerfully as the moon." He paused. "I don't think anyone realizes how much that instinct claws at me, always... But werewolves don't dare to voice things like that. Even to their closest friends. Even to themselves, sometimes. It makes the Monster too close... too real."
"I'll say it a thousand times a day if I must, Remus, you are not a monster - whatever instincts you worry might overpower you."
Remus was quiet. "But what if --"
"I don't care about any scenario you're about to throw at me, Moony," Sirius said firmly. "You could be chewing my leg off right now and I'd say the same thing. You're not a Monster, and nothing that the instinct makes you do would make YOU one. YOU are not the Wolf. You're my Moony... my Remus... the other half of my heart and soul."
Remus listened to Sirius's heart some more as silence fell over them once again for several long moments. So long that Sirius's breathing became rhythmic and Remus suspected he might have fallen asleep... and just went Remus was about to fall asleep himself, Sirius spoke again:
"Our anniversary is coming up."
"Yes it is," Remus answered sleepily.
Sirius yawned. "Wanna go to Costa Rica and try that whole making sex on the beach thing again?"
"I'm still picking sand out of crevices I didn't know I had," Remus objected.
"Then maybe in a hammock."
"Or a bed."
"A bed works too."
"Costa Rica sounds lovely, though," Remus said, imagining Sirius in swimming shorts and little else. "You think the house arrest will be over by then?"
"It fucking better be," Sirius growled sleepily. "I can't take much more of this already."
"Me either," Remus said. "I hate thinking of you cooped up. I know how much you hate it and it makes me anxious thinking of you being unhappy..."
Sirius kissed the top of Remus's head. "I love you Moony."
"I love you Padfoot."
Sirius's fingers traced down Remus's arm, then laced his fingers with Remus's and sighed contentedly as they both fell asleep.
During the night, after James had fallen asleep, his face smooshed into his pillow and Roger curled up on the span between his shoulders, Lily slipped out of bed and pulled her nightgown back on. She slipped down the hallway to the guest bedroom.
The suitcase was quiet, but she lifted the lid and peeked inside to make sure the lights were all off in the little house on the knoll inside. Everything was still and the only sound she could hear were the moon calves singing as they danced across the grass, the whole inside of the case bathed in a pale blue-lavender moonlight. She smiled and closed the lid back up.
Looking around the room, Lily imagined it as a nursery, which she'd been doing lately. She wanted to get James to help her start decorating it, but she knew he would want to wait until they were actually pregnant to start. He wouldn't understand that she just knew that they would have a boy and just knew that he had to be coming soon... he had to, she would go mad if he didn't.
She ran her hand over her stomach and walked over to the window that looked out over the backyard. Pale blue-lavender moonlight flooded out there as well. Real deer were wandering through the yard, nibbling upon the grasses out there, nosing about, a cluster of a couple does and some fawns. Lily smiled as she watched them, and she thought about the story of the Doe and the Stag that she'd told Bradley earlier, about the Stag Prince and the metaphor she'd created, and her mind lingered over the Young Prince... over Regulus.
Oh how she missed Regulus. It ached deep in her heart to think of him, to think of the suffering he'd been through in his life, and how horribly empty the space where he used to be was. She'd heard people use the phrase about a shaped-hole in their heart and she fully understood it because there was a Regulus shaped hole in hers and no other could fill the space where he'd been. It would be forever reserved for him.
Lily opened the drawer of the dresser and carefully pulled out the plastic bag that St. Mungo's had given her and James of the things Regulus had. It was an odd assortment of things - a Hogwarts jumper with the Slytherin silver and green, which smelled like Regulus Black even now. She folded it carefully. His prefect badge was still in the pocket of the jumper. The other things in the bag were taken from the pockets he'd been wearing when he appeared at the Potter Cottage, fresh bitten by Fenrir Greyback in human form - from a place that Regulus had repeatedly called The Riddle House without much more explanation.
Lily pulled out several vials with thick wax-sealed stoppers from the bag, turning them over in her hands. They were dark brown glass, simply labeled Medicine. One of the wax seals had been broken, and she pulled the stopper from that bottle and breathed the scent of the potion inside.
It smelled like James. Warm autumn nights in a forest and comfortable blankets and spices, cologne that felt like a flannel shirt hug on a cold night, and the sweat of a quidditch match on a fresh mown pitch.
Amortentia, she thought.
She recapped the bottle and stared at it. Why the hell was Regulus Black toting about a bunch of little bottles of love potion when he'd appeared at their door step? She put the bottles down in a row on the dresser, her brows furrowed, and continued through the bag, still hugging the jumper to her chest. There was an old photograph of a man on a horse, sitting tall in the saddle, and she felt a chill go down her spine because the man was strangely familiar in a way - and she stared at it, then turned it over and saw it was labeled Tom, 1924. There were letters and pages with torn edges and another old photograph of a woman with black hair and sunken eyes who also bore the strange familiarity that the man did, and Lily paused and put the two photos next to one another, staring, trying to determine who they each looked like to her.
"Oh my stars," she whispered, for seeing them side-by-side, she could see the jawline of the father and the eyes of the mother with the father's hair and stately stance with the mother's frame and she could see it... she could see him - Voldemort - in a flash of her mind and she gasped, her hand covering her mouth. "Oh."
She continued through the things in the bag - found an old tarnished oyster fork and more dusty old photographs, a ticket for a ship crossing the Atlantic, and several articles torn from newspapers, and a small diary, which, when she opened it up, she found Regulus's handwriting, scrawling out pages and pages and pages - nearly filling the whole book.
"STUFF CADMUS PEVERELL TOLD ME ABOUT TOM RIDDLE" one page was headed and Lily paused, her eyes roaming over the messy, panicked scrawling, skim-reading, the realization of what it was saying making her cold with shock...
Her breath left her body.
"Oh my God," she whispered.