And On We Go

When Harry said he wanted to go to Lupin’s, Lily was ready to end up on the corner of Chamber Street in Tower Hamlets on the East End of Londonwhere Remus and Sirius’ flat used to be. At this point, she should be used to how much had changed with time, but a small part of her longed for even one familiar road. 

Unfortunately, Remus Lupin’s home was not familiar, and they were not on a busy street in downtown London. 

The little cottage in Wales was quaint. It was a small home, but not stifling, big enough for one person to live contently. For a moment, Lily was pleased that Remus managed to find a small corner of peace for himself in the dark and dreary life he was left to after they died and Sirius–the love of his life–was locked away for years. Lily felt the small smile slip off her face and the tightening of her chest as she looked at the tiny home for a moment longer. 

Lily had been friends with Remus first. 

Before her unlikely allyship with Sirius Black, and before James Potter managed to whittle himself into her closest companion, there had been Remus John Lupin. 

Lily always felt out of place at Hogwarts in the beginning. She had been sorted into Gryffindor, while Severus–her closest and only friend in the new and terrifying environment–was in Slytherin. When she didn’t denounce him on the spot, the other girls her age gave her a wide berth. She tried very hard not to let that bother her; Severus was enough. Until he wasn’t. 

Fifth year, he played a role in her close friend, Mary, getting attacked, and at the age of fifteen, that was a betrayal she didn’t know how to stomach. It hurt, more than anything, to let go of Severus. It hurt even more to know that he would never change. Remus was there to help pick up the pieces in the aftermath of her falling out with Severus. It was one of the only times he had ever seen her cry.  

She first spent time with Remus at the beginning of their first year. He had quickly fallen behind James Potter and his rowdy leadership but, in the beginning, was often alone. That was a rare occurrence after their second year when his friendship with the other boys became set in stone. 

Lily found herself gravitating towards the quiet boy. The girls her age wouldn’t speak to her for her association with Severus Snape, but Remus did. He didn’t seem to care much for excluding anyone. 

They would sit together in the common room and read silently, sitting near each other and simply enjoying the company. Sometimes, they would put down their books and discuss whatever it was they were reading. Lily found that she looked forward to these quiet moments with him when everyone else in their house seemed to be so boisterous. It was never awkward, at least, not like it was with all the other children in their year.  

She always dreaded saying goodnight and dragging herself to bed in the icy company of the girls in her dormitory. She would draw her curtains closed and try to ignore the way the room was silent until her curtains swung shut when the whispers would pick up again. She would thumb through her book in the low lighting, and reassure herself that everything would be okay. She knew it would, because tomorrow was a new day, and she knew that, after dinner, she would be able to sit in the quiet company of Remus. He would be waiting with a soft smile, a new book, and an easy conversation.

She would never forget the way he had smiled, sitting curled up in the common room in their sixth year late one night after prefect duties–even years later, their nightly routine remained–when she had asked him about what he would like his future house to be like if he could make it whatever he wanted. 

He talked about all the flowers he would plant. He wanted them to be everywhere. He wanted the most colorful flowers he could find, and he would place them in the windowsill, in the garden, along the edges of the driveway. He wanted a home full of color and full of life, to make up for the monster it housed. 

Looking at the twisted ivy crawling up the gray stone walls and the wilting flowers drooping in the front garden bed, Lily felt something equally as dreary as this house twisting in her. 

Even Remus was different. It only took a few decades, but things would finally be awkward. 

She rubbed her hand up and down her son’s back as they stood on the front lawn. Harry still hadn’t spoken at all since his initial bout of panic when Fred and George tried to heal Dudley’s head wound. Despite the way he was leaning back heavily into her hand, she could feel the tight muscles and the way his body was instinctually cringing away from the touch. 

She wanted to be optimistic and believe it was only because of the death eaters and the recent trauma of the only family he had ever known being murdered in front of him, but she hadn’t forgotten about what the Weasley twins had said. 

They had been rather tight-lipped about their knowledge of Harry’s life after she blew up a love potion display in their store when armed with the knowledge of the bars the twins had ripped off her son’s window the summer before his second year. She was thankful her son had such loyal friends, but, God, was she getting sick of the lack of context. 

Lily Potter was many things, but an idiot was not one of them. She was well aware that Dumbledore danced around the truth and had been incredibly vague on purpose. Even in death, that man had an agenda. He was still pulling all his little puppet's strings from beyond the grave–a manipulator even in death. 

The twins were happy to talk about Harry and the person he had become. They told her and James all about how Harry had given them the money to start their shop, and how he was best friends with their little brother Ron. Apparently, Harry spent at least part of every summer at their home. 

Every time she or James would try to steer back to the little slip into how well and truly Dumbledore failed to protect her son, they would find some way of flipping it around to be an incredibly mundane story. Lily couldn’t tell anyone about her son’s childhood, but she now had a story, in great detail, of Harry’s ability to throw gnomes in the Weasley’s back garden.

Despite the abundance of time they had together, the boys never cracked. 

Although it was everyone’s least favorite option, they had decided to walk to Surrey. They didn’t want to apperate with George’s head injury, the Floo network was not a safe option, none of them had a portkey handy, and James didn’t want to risk taking the Knight Bus again so close to the last time. 

Therefore, they walked. 

It took far longer than she would’ve liked. Apparently, the boys had only been to her sister’s home in the dead of night via flying car and one other time with their father by the Floo. It seemed that they knew Harry’s exact location less accurately than they had implied. Although they never admitted to that fact. The twins walked confidently ahead, swinging their arms and declaring the next direction, pointing assertively to wherever they decided to wander next. 

It made Lily want to grab them by the shoulders and shake them until they understood how vital it was they got her to her son immediately, but she figured alienating the only allies they had in this new world they understood nothing about was not for the best. Also, her son probably would not approve of her hexing two of his–as it seemed from the plethora of little tales–close friends. 

It took almost the entirety of all three days to find the damn place. On the last day, they led them up and down the streets in Little Whinging in a loop di loop. They had to return to the front of the neighborhood to attempt to find the house no less than four times. 

Every corner they turned had Lily questioning if they had somehow managed to apparate back to the start of the previous street. It was a miracle they ever found the stupid sign brandishing ‘Privet Drive.’

The relief she had felt at seeing the street sign did not last long. The houses on Privet Drive looked exactly the same. Small little, box houses, with tiny driveways, and neatly cut grass. The Weasley twins argued the whole way up and down the street whether it had been house number eleven or twenty-three. 

Lily hadn’t even taken the time to tell the others, once she spotted her grandmother’s pink, floral curtains hanging in the front window of Number Four Privet Drive, she crossed the street and slammed the door open. 

She heard James and the twins come in behind her, but she could only look at the boy, who had to be Harry. He was kneeling on the floor, blood dripping down his face, and his arm twisted at an odd angle behind his back. 

She had barely been holding it together the whole way to Surrey, and she finally lost it when she saw the Death Eater’s hand twisted in her baby’s hair. 

Lily flung defensive spells that she had only ever read about. Violent spells that she never would’ve dreamed of using–even on a death eater–slipped off her lips, and she cut down every death eater in her path until she was able to hold her son. He was even more perfect than the version of him she had begun to craft in her head–to keep herself sane–on the trek from London to Surrey.

When she was pregnant, she and James had tried to guess what he would look like. James lamented how sorry he was to baby Harry that he had ended up with his unruly hair, but Lily had secretly been very excited. 

He had grown into the ridiculous head of hair, and his cheeks that had been soft and round, as every baby’s was, had sharpened into a mature jawline. He had her father’s eyebrows and James’ chin. 

This was her son. Her little baby’s face that she was cradling between her hands. Of course, it hadn’t lasted. All too soon, his face was gone, and she saw that Gryffindor spirit Fred and George had boasted about for days. 

She never wanted to let him out of her sight. She wanted to grab him again, tuck him into her, and keep him away from all of this. It was too much, he shouldn’t have to bear it. 

Then, she finally looked away from Harry and saw her nephew attempting to hide behind his much shorter cousin. The second she saw the bulky boy, she knew she would have to shove down the fire alarm blaring in her heart and walk the boy upstairs. He looked so much like her sister it hurt. It didn’t matter, though, he could’ve looked like an alien from Mars with ten eyes. She knew she would protect this boy with everything in her. 

He looked so scared. She couldn’t even imagine how he felt, his parents dead on the floor, not even ten feet away from him. Petunia may have been awful, but her son didn’t deserve to live through this. 

Lily now had two boys to take care of. She had already planned on helping him, but it felt different now, actually seeing him. He wasn’t just her responsibility, he was her family, and she was going to make sure he was okay. 

When they got upstairs, it occurred to Lily that Fred and George had not prepared her nearly enough for the horrors this house held. She walked Dudley into his room and left him to pack his things and get a moment alone. 

When she walked back into the upstairs alcove, she saw it. She knew instantly which room was Harry’s, despite how much she wished it wasn’t going to be. She hoped she would be wrong, and she would pull open the door and would be met with a junk closet. 

Lily was not a lucky woman–time had begun to prove that, and the room with four locks and a cat flap belonged to her son. She had to swallow the bile so quickly that her throat burned when she thought about what that might’ve been necessary for. 

The room was small and empty. There was a desk, a messy bed, and a wardrobe, and that was it.

Well, there was also a death eater writhing around on the floor with his legs unable to support his body, but she had a feeling that wasn’t part of Harry’s usual decor. 

She obliviated the man before stunning him, perhaps erasing more than she should. She side along apparated him to a Muggle park in London that her father had taken her to once on a day trip before leaving him there. The stunning spell and the jelly-leg jinx would wear off, eventually. Whether or not the man remembered who he was, or even the fact that he was a wizard, when he awoke, well, that wasn’t any of her concern.

After apparating back to the house with a loud crack, she quickly grabbed Harry’s trunk and vacated the room, trying to scrub the sad, little room her son had been abandoned to from her mind. Lily didn’t want to think about all the lonely, painful years spent in that room. 

When she and Dudley made it back downstairs, Harry had moved from the sitting room to be slumped against a cupboard beneath the stairs, his head on his knees. 

Lily met eyes with James, who simply shook his head and pushed up his glasses to wipe at his eyes. 

Lily walked slowly over to her son and called his name softly before placing her hand on his head. He moved his head up slightly, into her palm, and she took it as an invitation to start carding her fingers through the messy curls. 

Even now, leaning into her touch, Harry kept up his silence. She desperately wanted to hear his voice again. It was so deep, and nothing like the little baby voice she remembered. He was grown now and knew actual words. Lily wanted to sit in front of him and just listen to him speak. She wanted to listen to anything and everything he had to say. 

Meanwhile, Harry did not seem to be in a sharing mood. 

He followed, listlessly, as they walked up the front steps to Remus’s cottage. He pushed his way, wordlessly, to the front of the group to be the one to knock on the door. She didn’t say anything as he moved away from her, content with his absence only because James was right beside him. They met eyes, and she knew they were in agreement–one of them would always be beside Harry for the rest of their lives. They were never leaving him again. 

The door flung open, and Harry was yanked in the door by his shirt collar and slammed against the interior door frame. 

“What was in the corner of my office when Harry Potter came to say goodbye to me in his third year?” Lupin yelled, wand inches from Harry’s face. 

“What?” Harry, asked, eyebrows scrunched together, and chest heaving. 

“Professor Lupin!” Fred yelled as he stepped into the cottage, his own wand raised. 

Remus didn’t move an inch, “What creature?!” 

“A…er…a gridylow!” Harry yelled. 

Remus looked at Harry a moment longer before dropping his wand and pulling him into a strong hug. 

Lily watched as Harry reached up to grasp the man back, equally as tight. Remus leaned down to whisper something in Harry’s ear, and the boy simply nodded into his neck, holding the man even tighter if that was possible. 

Then, Remus turned to face the rest of the crew, and it was like all hell broke loose. 

Remus pushed Harry behind him and brandished his wand once more, “Who the hell are you?”

“Moony, listen to me,” James tried, keeping his wand by his side and holding his other hand up as if to steady the man. 

“How dare you,” Remus growled, “How dare you wear their faces!” 

Lily ran hard at James and shoved him to the ground as Remus cast a stunning spell. She crouched over James and threw up a shield charm. 

She didn’t particularly want to fight her friend right now, but she knew that James Potter would rather die than raise his wand against one of his friends. She had only seen it once: he shoved his wand in Sirius’ face in the common room of Gryffindor Tower in their sixth year after what happened with Severus at the Whomping Willow. He had never done it again, and she knew he never would. 

She stood up, quickly, and yelled, “Expelliarmus!” 

Remus’s wand flew from his hand and across the room. 

Lily held her wand out in front of her, not threateningly, but so she could protect herself if he decided to try any wandless magic. Not that she thought he would. Remus was a professor–according to Harry–and proficient at defense against the dark arts. He knew how to block a simple disarming spell. 

“I need you to listen. It has been a very long few days, and I just want to get my son to bed, and then pass out. We don’t have time for this,” Lily said, sternly. 

The silence hung heavy in the room. Fred and George were still hovering at the front door, wands held up half-heartedly. They kept looking back and forth between Remus and herself as if they weren’t sure who to move to stand beside. Dudley was still on the front porch, covered in blood, and unwilling to step through into the cottage. She could see James in her periphery, splayed on the ground from where she had bodychecked him, and staring, wide-mouthed, at his best friend. 

Harry, poor Harry, looked exhausted. He was staring off at the wall, not meeting anyone’s eyes. He had on a blue, long-sleeved shirt that was soaked through with blood. Who’s blood? She had no idea, but she hoped it wasn’t his. He blinked slowly, his eyes glazed over and unfocused. Harry teetered back and forth from side to side, and had to readjust the way he stood several times in the few moments she glanced his way. 

She wasn’t lying when she said she needed to get him to bed. He needed a warm bath, a soft jumper, and a long sleep. 

So did Dudley, if she was being honest with herself. They all did. 

She wouldn’t believe them either if she was Remus, she thought forlorn. They probably looked a right state. All of them were coated in red, cracked, and dry blood. They were soaked to the bone in sweat, and every single one of them looked dead on their feet. 

Lily racked her brain for a question to ask her friend, trying to think of what would convince him the quickest. 

She readjusted her grip on her wand and swallowed heavily, “What did I say to you in fifth year? I asked you if you could decorate your future home however you wanted, money be damned, and I said something to you, something important.” 

Remus’s face changed. The furrowed brow and curled lip fell into a soft frown and wide eyes. His head shook slightly, and a tear slipped out of the corner of his eye, as he spoke reverently, “That I wasn’t a monster, and I shouldn’t call myself that,” he reached up to wipe a hand across his scarred face roughly, “That I didn’t have to like myself, but I was talking about your best friend, and I needed to watch how I spoke about him." 

Lily nodded, readjusting her grip on her wand before gesturing with it lightly, “Go on, ask me one of your questions.” 

He looked at her carefully for a moment, “The day you and James went into hiding, what did I say to you?” he asked, almost in a whisper. 

Lily didn’t have to think hard about that, it was so recent for her, and she would never forget what he said, “You pulled me aside while James took Sirius to say goodbye to Harry, and you told me that if I got sick of James and killed him, you would find it in your heart to forgive me. That you’d even come to help me bury the body and stage it as such a ‘great tragedy,’” she laughed, remembering the way he had leaned in conspiratorily and said that, “but, also, that you would miss us. And that you were going to do everything you could to end the war as fast as possible because you refused to miss a single one of Harry’s birthdays.” 

It must’ve been enough to convince him for now because his face tightened considerably, and a cascade of tears slid down his cheeks, “Lily?” he asked, holding his hands cupped over his nose and chin to stifle his sobs. 

She nodded, and he walked forward slowly before pulling her into a hug. She rubbed her hand up and down his back and maneuvered his head to sit in the crook of her neck as he cried. 

He pulled away from her, and looked behind her down at James, “Prongs,” he said breathlessly, before reaching down to pull her husband to a standing position. Once righted, he pulled Remus into a tight hug, both of them clapping each other on the back as they rocked side to side in the hug. James leaned up to whisper in Remus’s ear repeatedly, the other man nodding into James’ neck each time. 

James pulled away and held Remus's head in his hands, eyes scanning his friend’s face, “You got old, Moony.”

All the tension in the room was gone. Remus let out a barking laugh leaning into James’s hand and nodding, “You haven’t aged a day, Prongs.”

“‘Course not,” James said with a confident smile and a shrug of his shoulders, “Somebody has to be the pretty face of the Marauders.”

Remus laughed again, pulling away from James to use his jumper sleeve to wipe at his face “Come on, Prongs, you know that was always Padfoot.” 

“Yeah, you’re right,” James chuckled, taking off his glasses to rub at his own face, before looking around at the empty cottage “Speaking of, where is Pads?”

Remus froze, and Harry let out a choking, strangled sound. Lily turned away from Remus and James to look at her son. 

“Harry?” she asked softly, walking towards him. 

He was also crying now. His hands shook as they stayed clenched by his side. His jaw was tight, and it looked like he was breathing heavily. 

She reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, as she tried to meet his eyeline. He flinched violently when her hand made contact, hitting the wall behind him with a loud thunk. Lily took a step back, trying to backtrack. Oh no, she had made it worse. 

She couldn’t seem to get anything right with Harry. She wished she knew what to do. 

She tried again, this time holding her hand out where Harry could see it. She didn’t try to meet his eyes, she only held her hand out in his eye-line. She stood, holding her breath. She started to count backward from ten in her head. If Harry hadn’t reached back out in any way by the time she reached zero, she would take a step back and try a different approach.

Lily had just gotten to three when he took a hesitant step forward, reaching out to place her hand on his shoulder again. 

He still wasn’t looking at her, but that was okay. He was responding, which was good. She ran her thumb up and down his shoulder, slow and comforting. 

It hit her again, how long today was, especially for the boys. They could figure out later where Sirius had run off to when it was just the adults that night. The boys had to be her first priority right now. They were bloody, exhausted, and traumatized. It was time to get them into bed. Beyond time. 

“Remus?” she asked, hand still on Harry’s shoulder as she turned to face her friend, “would it be alright if we got the boys showered and into bed? I promise we’ll explain everything to you, but it’s been a very long day for them.” 

Remus’s eyes softened as he looked at Harry, and then a complicated expression crossed his face, a cross between discomfort, confusion, and sympathy, as he glanced over at Dudley, “Of course, the bathroom is upstairs. Turn left at the landing, it’s the second door on the right. There should be extra towels under the sink. There’s two extra rooms up there, same side, any of the other doors.”

“Wonderful,” she said to Remus, with a forced smile. He donned a pinched expression, which meant he noticed. 

“Come on, love,” she whispered to Harry, still rubbing his shoulder, before speaking up and turning to her nephew, “Come on, up we go.” 

Fred and George moved aside to let Dudley walk in. He looked hesitantly at Remus and then down at the twins before slowly stepping into the cottage and shuffling over to where Lily was. He walked up the stairs first, and she goaded Harry into going up before her as well. She kept one hand firmly on his back, the other on the railing. She kept looking at each boy as the trio made their way up the stairs. 

She opened the doors and found each of them their own room, prodding Dudley into the shower first. She gave the boy a tight hug and promised to check in on him before he went to sleep. He nodded, lethargic, before looking at Harry and then slipping into the bathroom, the door shutting with a soft click. 

Lily returned her hand to its earlier place on Harry’s shoulder, making sure to keep her hand in his line of sight before placing it there. She got him to shuffle into the little room and to sit on the bed. 

“So, you have an owl?” Lily asked, pulling the tiny cage from her pocket and enlarging it to set it on the desk in the far corner by the window. 

She turned to look at Harry, and he nodded. 

“Her name is Hedwig,” he said, so soft she had to strain to hear him. 

She smiled, relieved at hearing him speak again, “Well, why don’t we leave the window open tonight, so she can find her way to you, hmm?” she asked, reaching forward to unlatch the window and push it open. The warm, July breeze swept into the room. 

Harry didn’t say anything further, but he didn’t protest either, so it was probably alright. Lily continued to chatter with herself as she pattered around the room. She enlarged his trunk and opened it to help pull out his belongings since she figured if she left Harry to do it, the trunk would remain packed until he went back to Hogwarts in the fall. 

She faltered slightly when she first opened the trunk, and hers and James’ faces smiled up at her, as they danced around and around the picture frame. Lily quickly righted herself, before grabbing the picture and bringing it over to the bedside table, carrying on her one-sided conversation. She unpacked his clothes, of which there were not many, and slid them carefully into the dresser drawers. 

Eventually, she had done all she could, and she was running out of things to mindlessly drone about. Lily heard the water shut off from the room across the hall and mentally began to plan for the rest of the night. She would get Harry into the shower, and then she’d go down the hall to Dudley’s room and make sure he had no injuries before helping him unpack. 

Although Dudley seemed exhausted, he was a little more responsive than Harry. She would let him help her put his things in their proper places. It might be grounding to have control over the situation, even if it was only which drawer he put his sleep shirts in. Once Dudley was tucked in, and she felt content to leave him for the night, she would check on Harry. She’d help him get comfy and ready for bed, and then she would go back downstairs with the others.

Despite how heavy her body felt and the throbbing behind her eyes, Lily knew she wouldn’t be sleeping tonight. She had half a mind to get a chair from the kitchen and sit vigil in the hall outside the boys’ rooms all night. James wouldn’t let her do that, though. Well, that, or he’d be sitting in a chair right next to her. 

He had a tendency to mother hen more than she did. It was a toss-up on who would be on the receiving end of his wrangling efforts tonight. 

She encouraged Harry up and into the hall with his pajamas when she heard the bathroom door click open. She watched Harry slowly walk into the bathroom and shut the door, and then she turned her efforts to her nephew. 

“Hello, love, any pain?” she asked, trying to put every ounce of kindness left in her body towards the tired boy. 

“No, ma’am,” he shook his head. 

“You don’t have to be so formal, darling. You can call me Lily. I’m your aunt,” she said, running a comforting hand down his back as she herded him into his room. 

“You’re my mum’s sister, right?” he asked, as she handed him things from his trunk to put away wherever he desired. 

“Yes, I am,” Lily said, hesitantly. 

“She doesn’t like you very much,” he said, carefully, glancing at her sideways as he put his socks in the top drawer of the dresser. 

Lily sighed, setting down the comic books she was holding in a neat stack on the bedside table, “No, she doesn’t.”

Lily ignored how they were both using present tense for her incredibly dead older sister. It wasn’t that much of a lie. Petunia was probably pacing back in forth in that obsidion courtroom, in front of Dumbledore and Death, wildly waving her hands and berating the competency of everyone present to bear witness to her soliloquy. 

“I…” he paused, taking a shaky breath and smoothing out his t-shirts lined up in the drawer, “I know she was wrong about a lot of things.” 

Lily stopped, she hadn’t expected this conversation to go this direction, “Yes?” she asked, encouraging him to continue his thought process. 

“Mhmm,” he confirmed, turning to grab an armful of trinkets out of his trunk before turning away from her to line them up on the desk, “I guess, I mean…” he trailed off. 

She tried to breathe evenly and not show how tense she was right then. She wanted Dudley to feel like he could say whatever he wanted, and she could not let her tumultuous relationship with her sister overshadow his comfort. He was her priority right now, and Lily was an adult, she could be mature and hide her contempt for his dead mother. 

“Well, I know she was wrong about Harry,” he fiddled with the hem of his shirt as he turned to face her again, but looking down at the ground, “I think she was wrong about you too,” he said, mouth tightening hard into a line as he pulled on a loose string on his shirt. 

Lily wasn’t sure what to say to that. 

She looked over out the window as she thought about the correct way to convey her thoughts, “That’s very brave. It’s hard to acknowledge that the people we love can be wrong, especially your parents,” she looked back to Dudley to see him rolling the hem of his shirt in his hands, still looking down at Remus’s worn carpet. 

“I think I’m a bad person,” he said, very quiet, and letting out a shaky breath. 

Lily wanted to immediately dissuade the boy, but she stopped herself. That’s what she had always done with Severus, and that doesn’t fix the situation. She realized, also, that she knows Dudley as well as she knows Harry, which is, unfortunately, not at all. He could very well be an unkind person. 

“Tomorrow is always a new day, and you can always choose to be better. As long as you try to be a little bit better than you were yesterday, then you’re doing alright,” she said, after a moment. 

“You really think that?” he asked, finally looking up at her. 

“Absolutely,” she said, only partially lying. 

He nodded before wiping his hands on his pants. He played with his hands for a moment as he looked around the room. Lily heard the water once again switch off in the hall. 

“You ready for bed?” she asked. 

He nodded again and walked forward while she pulled back the covers. She waited for him to get settled before pulling the covers up and tucking him in tightly, and then sitting on the edge of the bed. 

Lily smiled down at him before pushing his hair back from his forehead, softly, “You come get me or your Uncle James if you need anything tonight, alright? If you need absolutely anything, okay? You won’t bother us.” 

“Alright,” he said quietly. 

She smiled at him again before running her fingers through his hair one more time. Lily stood up and turned off the light switch when she opened the door. 

“Door open or closed?” she asked. 

“Closed, please,” he said. 

“Goodnight, darling,” she said, as she stepped into the hall and pulled the door closed. 

Lily stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall, staring at the ceiling as she listened to the boys talking downstairs. She had to get Harry into bed; then they had to talk to Remus about everything and what to do next, and then she could shut down. 

She threw another smile onto her face as the bathroom door swung open. Harry flinched back, his back hitting the doorframe, when he saw her. He ran his hand back and forth through his messy hair. The water droplets from his fringe dripped down onto the frames of his glasses. 

Lily tried to reign in her expression; she needed to keep it together until she was alone. Harry was so fragile right now. He needed to be able to depend on her, especially with everything that happened in the past twenty-four hours. Not including whatever occurred in the many years of his life he’d had to endure all alone. She was slowly starting to piece together a picture of his life, and it made her heart ache. 

“Ready for bed?” she asked, fake cheer filling her tone. 

Harry pulled his eyebrows together and fiddled with his glasses slightly before nodding. Lily followed him into his room. She pulled back the covers on his bed and waited for him to crawl in. After he slipped in, she pulled the blankets up for him, and she took her time carefully smoothing down the sheets and tucking the comforter down tightly around him. He reached an arm out and placed his glasses on the table in front of the picture of her and James. 

Lily smoothed his hair out. She spent a few minutes running her fingers through his hair and humming a lullaby her mother used to sing to her as a little girl. Harry’s eyes began to droop, and Lily would think he’d slip off to sleep, but then he would blink rapidly and widen his eyes. 

Lily breathed in carefully to avoid the stinging in her eyes, hoping to avoid genuine tears forming, and continued to massage his scalp, “It’s okay, love, you can go to sleep. I’ll be here in the morning when you wake up.”

“Promise?” Harry asked. 

“Yes, my love,” she said, continuing to run her fingers through his hair. 

Harry shifted his gaze from her to the door when there was a soft knock. 

James pushed the door open slightly, poking his head around the door frame, and holding two glasses of water. His expression softened like he was looking at a puppy, when he saw Harry lying in bed, fighting sleep. 

“Hey, kiddo, all ready to sleep?” He asked, with that soft smile that he always had only for Harry. 

Harry nodded. James pushed the door open further, and he walked into the room, setting the glass of water on the table beside his glasses. He paused briefly at the picture on the nightstand, but he didn’t say anything. He set the second glass of water down on the desk across the room as he walked around to the other side of the bed. He knelt down when he got there. Lily moved her hand from Harry’s hair so James could run his hand through his hair and smooth down his fringe. 

Lily smiled at James as she watched him make sure Harry was secure in bed. James fiddled with the boy’s hair for a bit before checking that the blankets were secure, before bringing his hand to rest softly on Harry’s shoulder. 

James stood up carefully as he squeezed Harry’s shoulder before leaning down to kiss him on the forehead softly, “Sleep good, kiddo.” 

Harry blinked up at him slowly, a dazed expression on his face. 

Lily leaned down, kissing him on the forehead as well, before mussing with his hair once more and standing up. James picked up the other glass of water and slipped out the door to stand in the hall, while Lily walked over and flicked off the light. 

“Would you like the door open or shut, love?” she asked. 

Harry was extremely quiet, and for a moment, Lily thought he might’ve slipped off to sleep, “Open, please.” 

“Alright, come get us if you need anything, alright, love?” she said, slipping out the door and leaving it cracked so some of the light from the hall spilled into Harry’s room. 

“Have you spoken to Remus yet?” she whispered to James. 

“No,” he shook his head, “I wanted to wait for you. I’m going to go check on Dudley,” he nodded his head to the other boy’s room, “and leave him this,” he said, gesturing with the cup of water. 

“Alright, I’ll meet you downstairs,” she said. 

He nodded and carefully opened the door to Dudley’s room. 

Remus looked back and forth between her and James, his mouth slightly agape. He looked over at the twins before chuckling slightly and holding his head in his hands, propped up by his elbows on the kitchen table. He laughed louder as he pulled tightly on his thin hair. 

“You alright, Moony?” James asked, concerned, reaching out to touch his friend’s arm. 

“I’ve finally lost it,” Remus said, running his hands aggressively down his face, “I’ve gone mad.”

“Nah, mate, this is real,” Fred said, as George nodded from beside his brother. 

“I need to stop drinking,” Remus said, covering his face with his hands. 

“Remus, we are real, I promise,” Lily said. 

Remus, “Yes, sure, of course, you–my hallucination–would say that.” 

“Moony, you aren’t hallucinating. We are alive,” James insisted, placing his hands flat on the table and leaning forward. 

Remus shook his head, “No, this isn’t possible.”

“We didn’t think so either, but it is,” James said. 

“I need a drink,” Remus said, running a hand slowly down his face, wearily. 

James jumped up to get him a glass of water from the kitchen. He opened a cabinet and pulled out a ceramic mug.

James slid the mug over to his friend across the table. 

Remus winced after taking a sip, “Thanks, Prongs, but I meant alcohol.” 

“You just said you need to stop drinking,” George pointed out. 

Remus glared sideways at him, “I changed my mind.” 

“Nice mug,” Lily said, laughing as she read the side of it that said ‘Professional Chaos Coordinator.’ 

“Thank you,” Remus said, smiling at the cup fondly, “It’s my wife’s.” 

Lily felt her brain short circuit. 

“You and Pads got divorced?” James asked, a crestfallen look on his face. 

Remus’s face became downturned, and he made eye contact with the twins. He sighed, suddenly looking every bit his age. His eyes crinkled slightly, and the creases in his forehead became more prominent as he stared down at the mug in his hands. 

“No, we didn’t get divorced,” he said, a small break in his voice on the last word, “James, Lily,” he said, looking up and making eye contact with each of them, “Sirius is dead.” 

The wind that had been violent and tumultuous all night, banging the long-branched trees from outside into the glass of the windows, had stilled. As if the world somehow knew that this was a conversation that required silence. 

“Come on, Mate, that isn’t funny,” James said, tapping Remus’s arm a little harshly. 

“James,” Remus turned to look at James. He grabbed James’ hand tightly in his own, “Sirius died two years ago.” 

James stood up, ripping his hand from Remus’s. He turned to face the window, where the world met him with an unnerving quiet, and then back to face Remus. He began to pace up and down the length of the kitchen, his hands shaking as they ripped through his messy, untameable hair. 

“What? I mean, wh–, that doesn’t make sense. How?” James asked, pulling off his glasses and wildly waving his hands as he spoke, his shoulders hunched up. 

Lily wanted to grab James and hold him tight, but she knew he needed to move and to have the space to breathe. Physical touch would only agitate him further until he had answers. She settled for looking over at Remus as if he would start laughing, and Sirius would walk around the corner laughing at James, holding his stomach from laughing so hard, and yelling out, ‘Got ya mate!’ 

But even thoughtless Sirius Black wasn’t this cruel. 

Remus's nose was scrunched up, and his chin wobbled, and Lily knew. Even the twins were staring straight down at the table, unable to look James or her in the eye. 

“James,” she said. 

His attention shifted to her, and she got a clear view of how wet his face was now, “No, no,” he said, voice wobbling as much as his chin. 

“I’m sorry,” Remus said, dropping his head into his hands. 

“Why are you sorry?” James asked, eyebrows scrunched, his sorrow momentarily paused as his mother hen tendencies poked out full force. 

Lily, equally as confused, returned her gaze to Remus and his shaking figure, as he cried directly into his hands, face obscured. 

“Remus, you have nothing to be sorry for,” Lily said, reaching out to rub up and down his arm. 

He laughed, voice wet with tears, “I did a piss-poor job of looking out for him.” 

“It’s not your job to look out for Sirius, Moony,” James said, assertively, sitting back down at the table across from him. 

“Of course it was,” Remus said, using his jumper sleeve to wipe his nose, “you were both gone and P…Pe–,” he paused to close his eyes and breathe, “that rat was dead. He was my husband, my responsibility. I fucked everything up! I couldn’t even get Harry,” he said bitterly and gestured towards the stairs. 

After wiping at his nose with his sleeve once more, Remus continued, “Not when he was a baby, not when he was thirteen. I tried, I did,” He roughly wiped at his face, and scoffed, “I went to Albus and begged him. I couldn’t take the guilt once I saw him the first day in class. He looked…so much like the both of you,” he closed his eyes, and shook his head, “but he said no. I tried again after Sirius died. I told him,” he slapped his hand down on the table as he spoke, and his face tightened, “I told him that I wouldn’t take no for an answer. Sirius was dead, and Hary was his godson. He was my responsibility, and I wanted him.” 

Lily had a rough estimate of how that conversation went over after speaking with the weathered, elder version of Dumbledore in Death’s court. 

Remus scoffed again, “I thought he would get angry. I thought I would see the ‘Great Albus Dumbledore’ lose it, and I’d learn why everyone was so afraid of him,” he sniffed and choked on a sob, “But, no. He just sat there,” Remus sighed, defeatedly, “He crossed his hands on the desk,” Remus mimicked the movement, “looked me right in the eye, and told me he was disappointed I no longer trusted him and that I could ‘certainly try’ to get Harry. However, I should ‘be ready’ because if I went to the ministry–with the state of things–he no longer had his power in the ministry to protect me. They would make sure, not only that I wouldn’t get custody of Harry, but that I would never be allowed to see him again.” 

Lily watched, the stinging behind her eyes increasing, as he heaved another heavy sob, “I guess I’m as much of a coward as Pettigrew. I dropped it,” he waved his hand dismissively before placing it flat on the table again, “Harry went home for the summer, back to those…awful people. I kept writing to him all of last year, but I know I lost his trust after not getting him that summer. He’s never quite looked at me the same.” 

“How did he die?” James asked, hesitantly, looking down at his hands on the table as tears slid rapidly down his soft cheeks. 

Remus sighed, “There was a battle, at the Department of Mysteries, with Voldemort.” 

“Voldemort killed him?” Lily interrupted, her chest constricting. 

“No,” Remus said softly, shaking his head, “Bellatrix did.”