Invictus

James stood listening to the stillness and quiet that enveloped the area and felt his tension melt slowly. The bluff at the end of Godric's Hollow overlooked a winding river that, had it been daytime, would have sparkled amidst the emerald green fields of Scotland. Now, however, as he stood, night engulfed everything and seemed to smother sound. James didn't care. It was a welcome relief after the stress of this week.

Raid after raid, plan after plan. There was no end to this, and it seemed as if Voldemort and his supporters were growing stronger as the weeks went by. But James was committed in more ways than one; he wanted to help Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix any way he could. A particularly large raid had been planned three weeks from now, on the second of November, and James, much to his surprise, was leading it. Lily, of course, would be frantic when she heard.

The sky was clear and the stars twinkled innocently above. James spotted Sirius, the star, near the constellation of Orion, and smiled ruefully. Sirius, the person, was unfortunately swamped with work from the Order as well, otherwise James would have asked him for a drink at the pub tonight. He felt like he needed it. It was just as well, though. Lily, although never one to turn down an opportunity for a drink, wanted him home as soon as possible these days. Maybe he could share a glass of firewhiskey with her and curl up on the sofa, just him and her. That sounded wonderful, in fact.

He began walking slowly back to their home at the end of the lane. The village was lovely and quaint, but James cared little about that, so long as they had a house and were happy together. Lily, on the other hand, loved the place with all her heart and had even started a little garden out back. He smiled slightly as he kicked a small stone down the dirt road.

As he reached the front door to their cottage he muttered an incantation that would allow his entry inside. Lily, ever the charms genius, had thought it up in case of... in case of any numerous amount of things. It was unfair, and shouldn't have to be there; James hated the charm. He couldn't help it.

Warm light greeted him, and he shut the door. "Lily, I'm here," he called, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes.

"Oh, good," she replied, coming out of the kitchen. "I was beginning to think you'd left me for Sirius." She grinned. "Again." She looked tired, but beautiful, so beautiful. James now felt every ounce of stress leave him, and he grinned back, and kissed her deeply.

"Is something the matter?" she asked once they broke apart. Her brilliant green eyes searched his.

"Nothing," he replied. "Or, at least, not now. Though I think I could do with a spot of firewhiskey. Care to join me?" She pursed her lips, as if trying to smother a smile.

"I think I'll pass this time. I'm not in the mood." James shrugged and kissed her again, then made his way to the kitchen.

"Everything here in order?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows at her. She smiled and swatted him.

"Of course everything here is in order. Just woke up from a nap, in fact. And I had time to reply to that letter Remus sent us before you came home."

"Ah, my darling, you work magic. And I mean that without the pun. I do." Lily snorted.

"So, how was the meeting?" she asked. James paused. He didn't exactly feel like telling her about the raid. Not yet.

"Same old, same old. The Ministry contacted Dumbledore about the recent attacks in Oxford, told him that it was getting so bad that Wiloughby had to meet with the Prime Minister and explain what was going on. I've always wondered about that, you know? How does a Muggle even understand what's happening? And what do they think when someone like Wiloughby comes along, right out of the fireplace or through a portkey? Does the Prime Minister get to know everything about us? What if he gets frightened and breaks off contact, full stop? Does-- " he stopped when he realized Lily was staring at him with a bemused look on her face. "Er," he said, his face reddening slightly. How did she do that? They were married for Merlin's sake, and at times he felt like he was back in seventh year, trying to win her affection, still awkwardly stumbling on his feet and with his tongue. "Anyway," he said, running his hand through his hair. "Dumbledore's just taking it all in stride, as usual. Oh," he said, his face screwed up slightly. "The Prewetts never showed up tonight. They might just be running amuck, playing heroes or something, but Kingsley and Sturgis were sent out to look for them...." Lily said nothing. She just took his hand and squeezed it as they walked back into the front room, a glass of firewhisky now in James's other hand.

They fell onto the sofa and Lily conjured a fire in the fireplace. It was delightfully cozy and James hoped he'd never have to get up again. He ran his fingers through her hair as she lay on his chest and they both watched the twinkling embers of the fire.

Lily slowly raised her head and whispered in his ear, tickling him: "I have something to tell you." Her face was an excitable red and she was smiling ear to ear. She hadn't looked this way since... since....

She slowly moved his hand to her stomach, and James sucked in a breath.

"I'm pregnant."

James sat stock-still for a few moments. His jaw dropped slightly.

"You--you are? Are you really?! Oh, Lily!" In one swift movement, he dropped his glass, stood, and pulled Lily up with him, squeezing her. "Really?! I can't believe it, I can't believe--"

"Yes, really," she said laughing. "But keep your voice down, you're going to wake Harry--I think he fell asleep again in his playpen...." They looked over to see that he was, in fact, awake, his green eyes watching his parents intently. When he saw that they were watching him, specifically his daddy, he bounced with his legs, and said, "Da!"

"Did you hear that, Harry?!" James picked up his son and Harry shrieked with laughter as James soared him through the air. "Did you hear that? You're going to have a little brother or sister! What do you think, eh? Think you're going to teach him all the ways of mischief and trouble that you'll learn? From me, of course," he added as an afterthought.

"Harry," Lily said, crossing her arms, "will not be doing anything of the sort. He will grow up to be a good little boy, and not deal on any sort of marauder business, and have excellent marks, and above all be Head Boy, won't you, darling?"

"I was Head Boy, too, if you'll remember, Lily dearest. Such a pity, you're starting to lose your memory already."

"I think I was trying to block that aspect of you out my head, James darling. Though I have to be fair," she said, pretending to sigh sadly, "I admit, you filled that position well. At the end. When there was probably, oh, two weeks left of school. Well done."

"I knew you'd admit it one of these days. Mummy's an easy one to sway, isn't she, Harry? Just remember that, and maybe one of these days you'll snag a redhead of your own." Lily just rolled her eyes.

"So," he said as they sat again on the sofa, James sitting Harry on his knee. "How far along?"

"Two months, or so. And this time I didn't have to find out by getting sick all over the place each morning. You gave me the worst trouble," she said, looking at Harry, tickling his stomach. "I got sick so much I thought I'd taken my internal organs with me at one point. And now look at you. As innocent as could be!" Harry just smiled and said, "No!"

They sat together on the sofa for most of the rest of the evening, sometimes talking (in Harry's case, babbling), sometimes quiet. They watched the fire slowly die out, and the embers that floated around the grate. Harry was now sleeping gently on James's chest, their breathing falling into rhythm every so often. Lily was beginning to nod herself; she put her hair behind her ears and rubbed her eyes and smiled at James when she saw him watching her. James's hand unconsciously found itself on her stomach. Her hand slowly covered his.

He was, perhaps, deliriously tired. Everything that Lily and he had done for the Order, only nearly escaping death on a handful of occasions, every perilous misadventure played itself out in his mind, and still one thought drowned them out and rendered them trivial.

He felt, at this moment, ready for anything. He felt invincible.