Remember

Lily rested her hand on her swollen belly.

It was so dangerous, to be pregnant, at a time like this. Especially with her involvement in the Order. She and James were taking a terrible risk, daring to bring a life into the world with all of the darkness that choked it. Her only consolation was that she wasn't the only one, and that Frank and Alice, too, were expecting.

Still.

She glanced to her right, where James was snoring peacefully. She felt her mouth curve up into a smile at the sight of him. Hair so untidy, limbs so loose and careless in sleep. Would he ever grow up?

She could hope not.

Carefully untwisting herself from the blankets, Lily stood and went into the kitchen. The baby in her belly kicked, prompting another grimace - that was what had woken her - and a wave of her wand. A glass of warm milk appeared, which she choked down nobly. It was supposed to help.

Her toes curling against the cold tile, Lily padded back into the bedroom. A soft, squishy pile of fabric gave under her foot - Lily swiped it up and held it to the moonlight. James' shirt.

Smiling to herself, she tugged it on, smelling it deeply. She sat on the edge of the bed, holding the shirt closed with a small hand and downing the last of the milk. The baby kicked again, not exactly painful, but surprising.

Lily rubbed her belly. "Calm down there, kiddo," she muttered. She shot a furtive look at James. She teased him ceaselessly for talking to her stomach; she didn't want to be caught doing the same. "Relax. Mummy's here, and so is Daddy." James gave a loud snore. "Mostly."

The baby was still. Lily couldn't tell if it was the milk or her assurance.

She set the empty glass on the night stand. She switched off the lamp - it was strange to be in a Muggle hotel after so much time in the wizarding world, but Dumbledore was insistent that they keep an eye on Ministry proceedings in London - and pulled her legs into bed. It was a bit awkward, tucking them beneath herself.

A long, warm arm slipped around her waist. James laid his head in her lap.

"I thought you were asleep," she chided, tugging a luck of messy hair.

He grunted his annoyance. "I was." She didn't need to see his face to recognize that smirk. "Somebody woke me up with all her talking."

Lily poked him firmly in the shoulder. "Go back to sleep."

He mmm-hmmed quietly, his hand at her waist reaching up to catch a lock of hair and thread it through his fingers. "The baby wake you?"

"Kicking."

"Mmmm."

"Drank some of the nasty milk."

James snorted. "Muggle remedies," he said. "My mum could give you a charm . . ."

"Your mum is crazy, Mr. Potter."

James laughed, readjusting himself so that he could look up at her sleepily. He looked older without his glasses, harder. Sleepier. "You're just saying that because she's your in-law."

"James, the first conversation I had with her was about our sex life. She's mad!"

James grinned. "She's always worn the pants in her and Dad's relationship," he admitted ruefully. "You should've seen her when Sirius was staying with us - she had him saying 'Yes ma'am,' and everything." He stretched. "It was great."

Lily was thinking. "I guess after you take after your father, hm? At least when it comes to relationships."

He shot her a dirty look. "Don't tell Sirius," he said, surprising Lily, who'd been expecting an argument.

She laughed and stroked his forehead, watching his staticky bangs cling to her fingers. "I won't."

"He'd never let me hear the end of it."

Lily grinned at the thought of Sirius; twenty years old and as single as they came, a new girlfriend every week, and the large, mocking grin that used to get him slapped when they were at school. An overgrown puppy, that man. No matter how bad things got, he was always cheerful - never a bitter look, never a sullen mood. Even with Voldemort on the loose. Even with the occasional, suspicious look from Dumbledore that Lily was only beginning to understand . . . .

Lily sighed. James stroked her belly, sending her eyes downward. He was watching her with a concerned, almost pleading, look. She forced herself to smile for him.

He pushed himself up and kissed her, sinking onto his elbows and cupping her belly with his hands. "What are we going to name him?"

"Her," Lily said.

"Him." James smiled. "After my dad, shall we? Harry?"

Lily rolled her eyes. "We are not naming our daughter Harry."

He laughed and kissed her stomach. "What makes you so certain it's going to be a girl?"

"What makes you so certain it's not?"

He shrugged. "Potters always have sons." At her askew glance, he added, "I'm serious. As far back as our family tree goes."

"Then why aren't there more Potters, then?"

"Most of them married Muggles." He put his head back in her lap. "Or moved. Or were killed." He grinned up at her. "We're always involved in the wars, you know. Magical or Muggle. We can't seem to help ourselves."

Lily felt a little chill at that. "I hope it's a girl."

"I hope it's a boy." He grinned again at her scowl. "I mean, what you can do with a girl, anyway? If it's a boy, I can give him my cloak . . . find a way to get the Map back from Filch . . ."

"And you can't do that with a girl?"

He shrugged. "Nah." He paused for a moment, face flashing serious. Lily twined her fingers in his hair - she was dreadfully envious of his hair, always so soft and silky, and utterly unlike her own - and watched his face. More than his cockiness or his humor, it was his occasional seriousness that drew her to him. The somber thoughtfulness that showed he was much more aware of the world around him than he seemed to be.

"Sirius and I already have plans," James confided. His eyes shone like he was telling her a secret, and Lily felt herself starting to smile again. "He's going to be a Quidditch player, of course."

"Who?"

He nudged her. "Harry."

Lily laughed and rolled her eyes. "James, he - or she - hasn't even been born yet. You can't go planning out his - or her - life!"

James clearly doubted this. "D'you want to hear our plans or not?"

"Okay, fine." Lily magicked up another glass of milk. "Tell me about your crazy plans."

He grinned, satisfied. "Okay. So he's going to be a Quidditch player. Probably a Seeker, if he's small like you." This earned him a scowl. Lily was rather sensitive about her height (or lack thereof). "So Sirius and I are going to break into Hogwarts -"

"James!"

He laughed. "We're going to break into Hogwarts, through the Shrieking Shack, or the Honeydukes entrance, or something. Somehow, we'll get in there. Just to play Quidditch," he added, at her stern look. "To show him all the places we found as animals."

Lily tugged his hair. "You are an animal."

"Ow. Anyway. We'll play Quidditch with him, teach him all our moves. Tell him about all our games - you know, the one where I got knocked off my broom by Malfoy, and Sirius pegged him in the head with a Bludger - and maybe the match against Ravenclaw, where I scored seventy points -" James could see Lily rolling her eyes. "Anyway. He'll get real tired of that, we figure, so then we'll get him to tell us about school. Dumbledore'll still be there, of course, and maybe McGonagall - we'll tell him how to get by in all his classes."

"That's cheating," Lily the prefect objected.

He nudged her again. "We'll get him to tell us about his friends, find out if they're as good as the Marauders. Maybe give them a few tips."

Lily crossed her arms over her chest. "We need to get one thing straight, Mr. Potter," she said wryly. "I am not going to let my son run around breaking the rules like you did." He scowled at her. "If he does, he'd better have a damn good reason."

"Like what?" James asked. "He's saving the world or something."

"That'll do," Lily said.

James rolled his eyes. "Lily. Come on! Where's the fun in that, eh?"

They stared off. James gave in, flicking his gaze towards the ceiling. "Fine."

Lily smirked. "Please continue."

He grinned, enthusiastic again. "Where was I? Oh, yeah. So, we'll get his friends to come along, and we'll get all of his secrets out of them. You know, which girls he fancies, which ones fancy him, all that, and tease him about it." James looked positive gleeful. "You've no clue how good Sirius is at teasing people, he's brilliant."

"James, that's horrible."

"You're laughing, though."

Lily forced away her smile. "And what will I be doing?" she asked archly. "Knitting booties?"

"Saving the world," he said, without missing a beat. "Sirius and I have this planned, too. We'll meet him when he's visiting Hogsmeade just before the holidays, to hint towards what his gifts are and drive him mad. You can come. You know, Remus'll probably be teaching at the school - he's a fantastic teacher, got me through Herbology and all."

Lily stroked his forehead again. "He's a werewolf, though."

"Well, after everyone finds out about the things he's done during the war, they'll let him teach." James looked stubborn; Lily knew better than to argue with him. "So, you and Remus can talk, make sure Harry's doing well in his classes and all that. Sirius and I, we'll talk to all his friends, and they'll all be staring at you. They'll tease him like mad, telling him how much of a looker his mum is." Lily found this amusing. "And all the girls will have crushes on Sirius. He'll flirt with Harry's girlfriends unmercifully - maybe his mates, too, you can never tell with Sirius -"

Lily swatted him on the head. "That's horrible, James!"

He was entirely pleased with himself. "And that's our plan. That's what we're going to do. We've got it all worked out, you see -" and here, he talked to Lily's stomach "- so you'd better get it straight and come out a boy."

Lily ruffled his hair, enjoying his displeased look. "So you don't want a girl?"

"Maybe after Harry," James said, stretching. "Harry can look after her. She'll be . . . hmm, red-haired and pretty, like you. She'll drive Harry mad, tagging along after him, and I'll crazy over-protective over her." James closed his eyes, still resting his head in her lap. Lily wondered if he'd been awake before her. He had nightmares sometimes, although he never talked about them - of his older brother's death, and Voldemort. James was one of the few to come face-to-face with him, and survive.

"She'll be on the Quidditch team, too," James murmured. "If any of the boys try to peek up her robes, I'll beat them."

Lily laughed softly. "James, you'll be years older than them, that's hardly fair."

This didn't seem to bother him at all. "So? And eventually, Harry'll find her a boyfriend - someone he approves of - and we can ask Moony if he's really all right, he'll know, he'll be a professor . . ."

"You said that already," Lily reminded him. He smiled and closed his eyes, his mind racing with plans for their children. Lily wanted to tell him not to, because if he got too eager, the suspense would kill him, but James wasn't good at listening to anyone's advice, no matter how much sense it made.

She stroked his hair, marveling at it's softness. If they did have a son, would he have hair like this? Or would it be red, like hers? Would he turn brown in the summer, the way James did? Or would he be moon-pale? Would he come to her with scraped knees and ask her to kiss them and make them better? Or would he not even notice until that night, looking down at his skinny legs and knobby knees (just like James') with surprise, laughing at his battle scars?

Lily rested against the pillows. The baby - Harry, she thought with a wry smile - kicked again, so she summoned another glass of milk. When the sun rose an hour later, Lily was still awake, as lost in her dreams as James.

~~~

"This is crazy," James said, watching as the tiny figure of Sibyl Trelawney fade away. His eyes were slightly too wide, his mouth on the verge of hanging open. "Mad."

Dumbledore looked old and weary. "I know, James," he said. "I know."

James was shaking his head. "I don't believe it," he said finally. "I've never believed all of that prophecy bollocks -"

"Either way, I am certain that Riddle will believe it." Dumbledore sat back in his chair. "Harry is in danger, James."

Silence pervaded Dumbledore's office. Sunlight streamed through a small window, illuminating the tall, thunderstruck figure of James Potter, his glasses slipping unnoticed down his nose in his shock.

In his mind, he was echoing a line of the prophecy; born to those who have thrice defied him.

James and Lily. Only they - and Frank and Alice - had come alive from a direct battle with Death Eaters or Voldemort himself. Only they. And if they hadn't - if they hadn't put their lives on the line - if they hadn't insisted on taking those risks - if James hadn't been so willing to avenge his brother -

James turned away from Dumbledore, putting his hand over his eyes. The headmaster sighed. "James, my boy -"

James shook his head. "I need to find Lily," he said, and left.

~~~

Lily sat in the kitchen, Harry asleep in her arms. James and Sirius argued in low tones in the living room.

She couldn't hear what they were saying but she could feel their agitation, their tension. She could see it in the way that James kept shoving his hair from his face, a bit desperately, as if he didn't know what to do with his hands. She could see it in the way Sirius clenched his jaw and tightened his shoulders, sometimes turning to glance at her and Harry without seeing them.

She knew what Sirius was saying by the look in his face. There was a terrible danger in being the Potters' Secret Keeper. A terrible, terrible danger. A life on the run - possible torture -

Possible death.

The only way that a Fidelius Charm could be broken, other than through the explicit act of the Secret-Keeper, was through the Secret-Keeper's death. If Sirius died with their secret, they would be exposed.

So he suggested an alternative.

Lily knew what he said, even though she couldn't hear him. Use Peter. Peter could slip by, under the radar, go somewhere far away and protect them through his anonymity. And Sirius -

Sirius would create a distraction. Voldemort would hunt for him, and probably find him. He would kill him.

And James and Lily - and little Harry (so small, Lily thought looking down at him, his tiny hands and feet and those big, big green eyes) - they would be safe.

Lily's lip trembled, her eyes watered, as James clasped Sirius in a hug. Harry caught a strand of her hair - she pried it from his hand and let him squeeze her finger, sight blurring hopelessly as Sirius left to get Peter.

James joined her a moment later, kissing her softly on the forehead. He took Harry from her, put him in the crib that Lily was fond of levitating around the house, tucking him up tight in his blankets.

And then he put his arms around her tight as she started to cry.

~~~

Later that night, Lily tip-toed out of she and James' room, using her wand to cast a dim light as she opened the door to Harry's nursery. He was awake, unsurprisingly - "The kid keeps the weirdest hours," Sirius had commented just before leaving, grinning at the wide-awake baby in Lily's arm, as Peter nodded and blinked sleepily - and cooed his delight at the sight of her.

She smile as widely as she could. "Hi there," she said, pressing the pad of her finger against his forehead and grinning as he grabbed her hand. "My little insomniac."

She let him wave her hand around, fighting back a fresh onslaught of tears. James, she was sure, was sleeping peacefully, after shedding tears of his own. She had never seen him cry before. She never wanted to see him cry again.

Her lips started to move.

Lily wasn't much for praying. Her parents had been big on church, until they realized their daughter was a witch. And then Lily slowly broke it to them, that the wizarding would had specific memories of the Bible's creation, of many of the world's great religions, and that it knew them to be utterly false.

No matter what the wizarding world had taught her, however, Lily still had very clear memories within her. Her parents teaching her to kneel and pray every night. Reciting the old words by rote at Petunia's side, sleepy, comfortable in her cotton nightgown.

It wasn't any of the old words that came to Lily's lips, however - just an abstract plea to whoever might be listening, begging them to help her, to help Harry, to look after Sirius and Peter. It would be Halloween in just a few days, over a month since Peter had been made their Secret-Keeper, since Sirius had gone on the run and narrowly escaped an ambush in Scotland somewhere. They hadn't had word from him since.

She was so worried.

James came into the room, slipping his arms around her waist and tugging her close. They stayed like that in silence, Harry losing interest in Lily's hand and deciding to chew on a stuffed toy instead.

"What are you praying for?" James whispered in her ear.

"You know why," Lily told him.

"Not why, what. What are you asking for?" She glanced at him. "I've never believed in any sort of God before. I don't know how to pray."

She put her hands over his, threading their fingers together. She watched Harry roll over onto his belly, banging the plush toy against the wooden side of his crib. So tiny. And so perfect.

"For everything to be all right," Lily said.

James kissed her hair. "Everything can never be all right," he said, a bit bitterly, perhaps thinking of Remus, who, even if he wasn't a spy, would never forgive them for their distrust.

Lily stroked his hands. "For Harry to be all right."

James looked down at their son. "The prophecy . . ."

Lily flinched. "Don't mention that thing," she hissed. "Never."

He kissed her cheek, her lips. She was gasping, on the verge of another crying fit. Her heart felt like it was breaking. S he hoped that Frank and Alice were safe. And she prayed that if some uncaring God must choose a child to inflict the prophecy upon, he would choose theirs. Anyone other than Harry.

She turned her face slightly to look at James. "If we die -"

He kissed her temple. "Hush."

"If we die, will he even remember that we loved him?"

James caressed the side of her face, eyes vague without his glasses, his face pale and serious in the moonlight. He didn't answer her. Lily went back to watching Harry, and couldn't help but laugh as he threw away the rabbit toy that Peter had bought him, electing instead to chew on the stuffed stag that Sirius had magicked up for him.