Chapter Text
“I don’t know why the cradle is up a tree, James, that’s just how the song goes,” Lily harrumphed, albeit in a whisper. Harry was hovering on the edges of sleep, as she bounced him gently. The attempt at a lullaby was a desperate measure, because she couldn’t sing for to save her life, but Harry had hardly slept in the past two days, and if he didn’t sleep tonight, it just might be her life on the line.
The gallows humor was a little bit much, perhaps.
And it was hardly poor Harry’s fault he wasn’t sleeping. She knew James hadn’t slept in weeks, not truly, and she’d taken to pacing the hours away. There were only so many charms she could think up under duress, even if it was to make her son giggle his throaty little belly laugh. Even that had been harder to come by lately.
Sirius still hadn’t reported in.
“Some of us weren’t raised on Ribbity Rabbity and her Warbling Rock, you know.” Or whatever the godforsaken story was called. Harry had a little book of wizarding fables, but Merlin help her she couldn’t keep them straight. She didn’t mean to be short with James, but honestly. Sighing, she switched the music to humming, because she privately agreed with her husband that the morbid song wasn’t worth singing to their son. She didn’t want a sad song for her baby, but the only other ones she could think of were about the plague or bridges collapsing.
Finally, finally, Harry’s soft whuffling snores tickled her jaw and she smiled as she laid him in his crib, leaning back into James as he wrapped an arm around her. “He’ll be okay, James. It’s Sirius, he always lands on his feet. Like a cat.” Turning in his arms, she laid her head on his chest, and wished for a moment she could crawl inside his heart. It was such a light and warm place, where nothing bad ever happened.
If only, if only.
A tingle went up her spine and she tensed automatically, going for her wand. But Remus’ voice rang through the room, a blue wolf of glowing light prowling through the room.
“ They’ve got Padfoot. Wormtail was the rat. ”
***
He’s going out of his bloody mind. It’s not Lily’s fault, Merlin knows that she’s going just as stir crazy as he is with this, but he’s damn well sure this is going to be what does him in. James’ hands are itching to do something – anything – valuable. Meaningful. He doesn’t mean to sound ungrateful, and yes using his wand to entertain his son is absolutely meaningful but-
His best mates are out there – fighting, dying , while he sits tight and waits for someone to tell him something.
James has never been much of a sit tight and do nothing sort of bloke, and he can’t pretend to be someone that he isn’t. Especially when it’s Sirius who’s missing. He can feel something clawing its way up his throat, and for a moment it’s damn well hard to breathe, and the walls of the small cottage are closing in on him in a way that’s sure to suck the remaining oxygen out of the room.
“...in the treetop...”
“Well that makes no bloody sense,” he snorts. “What the hell is it doing up there? Surely that’s bad parenting.” It’s meant to be funny, but even he can hear the bitterness, the frustration bolstering up every word.
Now he’s being a rubbish husband as well, and almost instantaneously his hand reaches out, fingers brushing up against the smooth skin on Lily’s neck before he starts to massage at some of the tension there.
“Babbitty Rabbitty,” the correction is immediate, and this time the corner of James’ lips start to quirk upwards in the start of a lopsided smile because honestly, there aren’t many opportunities to correct his wife. “And her Cackling Stump.” His voice is a soft whisper, partially because he doesn’t want to upset Lily, and partially because he doesn’t want to get Harry started again. “It’s got a point at least- and ‘sides, it’s about animagi.”
It’s random babble about nothing, but he’s never felt so utterly useless before. But the moment his son is sleeping peacefully in his crib, and is out of his wife’s arms, Lily is being pulled into his and its reassurance that if anything she is okay. She is here, and she is safe. “Yeah,” his voice is rough, and he tries to clear his throat discreetly. What he wants to say is that he’s not a cat, he’s a dog, but he can’t bring himself to do it. “Course he will.”
He doesn’t need to be a seer, or to have taken that utterly ridiculous class at Hogwarts to know that the message of Remus’ patronus doesn’t carry good news.
The second part doesn’t even register, not immediately, because James is too busy focusing on the first bit- his wand in his hand as he’s stepped away from Lily and his feet are moving of their own volition.
They’ve got Padfoot.
They’ve got Padfoot.
Remus’ words are on repeat, like one of those recordy devices Lily’s dad had showed him, and they’re deafening out any other thought he has. They have Padfoot, and he has to go. He has to find him, and bring him home.
***
It’s like ice in her veins. That’s what people always say, but it hurts, like frostbite on the wrong side of her skin, like she’s losing contact with a part of herself, in the most critical way. Because the boys, they’re the Marauders. They’re legends, they’re the thick and thin kind of friends, closer than brothers, but they’re her family, too, and it—
It hurts —
She doesn’t even have time to process the pain, because he’s leaving, James is leaving, and before she knows what she’s doing, Lily has her wand aimed at her husband’s throat.
“You take one more step, James Fleamont Potter, and I swear to god, and, and Godric—” she’s crying now, and she’s never hated James Potter as much as she does in this very second, “—and all the rest of them, you will never see your son again.”
Why is he making her do this? Why is he the only one who gets to mourn Sirius, and storm off into the battlefield to rescue him? Why is she the one left behind, when he’s never once beaten her in a duel, and they’re neck and neck when it comes to hexes anyway?
Harry fusses behind her, his whuffling snore sending the tears in her eyes overboard. She wouldn’t run into the battlefield to save her life, not even James’ life, or any of the billion other people on this planet. No one but Harry. She wants to stay angry, it’s so much easier to be angry than scared, but the fight goes out of her, and there’s nothing left but to beg. If it were anything else but Harry, she’d hate herself for it, but. But.
“James, please, you can’t go. Not this time. We’ll— We’ll find another way, but you know what’ll happen if you leave, and I can’t—” I can’t do this on my own.
***
They’ve got Padfoot.
They’ve got Padfoot.
Every damn beat of his heart is a reminder that in protecting them, his best mate, his brother, is out there giving up Merlin-knew-what pieces of himself instead. He can’t, he won’t, let Sirius die- not now. Not when there’s a chance that he can save him. There isn’t a plan, but he doesn’t need one. Hell, loads of the missions they’d gone on had been without a plan and they had worked out well enough.
What James hadn’t accounted for was the wand that is steadily aimed at his throat. He doesn’t move, he’s not sure if he’s even breathing honestly, but instead James waits. Half of him wants to tempt Lily, to see just how serious she is in her threats, and the other wants to make it out the front door of their home in one piece.
He also knows he could get passed the barrier and apparate if need be, but the look in her eyes freezes him in his spot.
“Don’t.” His voice is angry and pleading all at once. How dare she, he wants to rage. How dare she try and make him choose between them? His hand instantly finds his hair, and his fingers give the strands he’s clutching a sharp tug as his teeth grind. “Don’t, Lily. Just-”
If it were anybody else, he wants to scream, he wouldn’t even consider it. “It’s Sirius ,” he whispers, willing himself not to break just at the mere thought. In a moment the weakness is gone, and it’s replaced with something hotter- sharper. “You know if it was me, or you, or Harry, nothing would stop him from going. Nothing .”
He’s family, for Godric’s sake, and they’re supposed to what, just let him go? Let him suffer when there isn’t a single part of him that believes Sirius will give them up for anything, no matter the cost?
She’s ripping him in two, and he can’t blame her, can’t hate her, even if he wants to make her see – make her understand. “Who’s going to go for him, Lily?” James can tell he’s losing the battle, he’s always had a hard time denying her anything and fuck, he can’t jeopardize his son. “Who?” They were being picked off one by one, and if the rat had known about him, he surely would have-
Wormtail.
A bitter, unamused laugh bubbles up his throat, and James clenches his fist to avoid punching a hole in the wall.
Fucking traitor. He wants to yell, he wants to do something – anything – but he still can’t move, and goddamn it if he does what he really wants to in this moment, in Harry’s nursery.
“Threaten me all you want, Lils.” She already has him backed in a corner. He won’t leave her or Harry to fend for themselves. “But I’m not abandoning him.”
***
She can the calculations whirring in that brilliant brain of his, knows he’s trying to figure out counter-jinxes, and stunning spells to delay her long enough to make it past the perimeter. It’s not enough, she’s not enough. Harry. He’s going to leave Harry.
She jabs him again with the end of her wand. “That’s because he has a death wish, and you know it, James! How many times have you all nearly gotten yourselves killed for one of Sirius’ harebrained schemes? He knew the risks! He knew this is what would happen, we all did! For Harry, for his godson. Our son. ” And it sounds heartless, even to her ears, sounds like she’s already said her goodbyes and moved on and that’s not true, she’s scared and hurting for him and wants all her boys back and safe, but there’s only one boy she can protect now.
“Anyone but you!” she begs, openly sobbing now. There is no saving Sirius Black, not for James Potter, not this time. The minute he steps over that line, he is as good as dead. It isn’t an ‘if’. It isn’t Filch and Peeves and Marauders’ Maps. This is her family. Her husband, her son. Damn the stars in James Potter’s eyes. She’d known from day one they’d be the death of her, and she’d fought it for so long.
“No, you’re abandoning us,” she says flatly. “You leave this house, James,” she whispers quietly, lowering her wand, “you won’t be coming back. We both know it.” With that, she turns her back on her husband and slides down to her knees, to lean her forehead against the rungs of Harry’s crib, running a finger over the chubby folds of his ankle. She doesn’t tell him she loves him, because she doesn’t want him thinking she’s saying goodbye, giving him permission to go. She doesn’t look at him because she doesn’t want to watch James walk away from them. She doesn’t want that to be the way she has to remember him for the rest of her life without him.
***
“Fuck’s sake, Lily,” he smacks the tip of her wand away from his throat. He’s already struggling to breathe, and he doesn’t need that thing jabbing hard enough to knock the wind out of him. He can’t think, he can’t keep up with that mouth of hers because he’s struggling to process.
James doesn’t correct her, simply because there’s no real reason to. His wife knows that all of the ideas, all of the stunts he and Sirius have pulled over the course of this war have not stemmed solely from his missing partner. He’s equally as guilty, and generally – most of the time – their plans paid off. “Do you even hear yourself?” It’s not fair, and James knows it. She has every right, every single right to pull out every barbed arrow that she can, but fuck it all if it doesn’t hurt . “We all knew that a war was coming! It didn’t stop any of us from fighting. We don’t have to just accept things! I won’t-”
The sight of her tears causes the words to die before they can roll off of his tongue, and he wants to go to her. He wants to, and he wants to shake her in the same breath because doesn’t she care? Doesn’t she want to try? For the first time since James can remember, he doesn’t cross the room to comfort his crying wife. Instead he stares, uncomprehending.
Bullshit, he wants to tell her. Bullshit is he abandoning them. James wants to tell her that it’s her lack of faith in him that’s causing this, that there’s no way that he can fail in this because it’s Sirius’ life at risk. And if he promises to bring him home, and to come back to her, neither Voldemort or any of his Death Eaters would be able to stop him.
Instead he remains silent, and it’s his angry gasps for air that fill the room.
When he does walk out of the nursery, and nearly fly down the stairs in the process, it isn’t the front door that he reaches. It’s the living room, and James takes four steps, maybe five, before he whirls around with all of the grace of a skilled duelist before his fist connects with the wall with a loud thud. There’s another punch with the same fist, and two more in quick succession as they hit the same target with precise aim.
He needs to do something, anything. The pain radiating in his knuckles is a small jolt back to reality, and the smallest release of something as he begins to pace – his uninjured hand back in his hair as he thinks.
***
She expects him to storm out. She does, really, but that doesn’t stop it from cresting over her like a wave of regret, of pain. Everything hurts. This madman, he’s tearing apart their entire lives, just for some idiotic prophecy their idiotic divination professor couldn’t keep to herself. Does Voldemort honestly think her baby boy is the end-all, be-all of his inglorious reign? She shouldn’t, not when he’s sleeping, but she pulls Harry out of his crib, and hugs him to her chest and rocks him back and forth, like a lifeboat on the rough and ragged sea.
The door doesn’t slam, and she doesn’t feel the tell-tale shimmer of the Fidelius Charm breaking, or bending to let one under its protection go free. He hasn’t left. For some reason that only make the tears fall harder. She loves that man, so much, too much, and it’s going to be the death of them both one day. It dangerous, to love someone the way she loves James, the way James loves everyone he considers family. It’s dangerous, and hurtful, and hard, and poor, poor Sirius.
What has she done to him? Will he ever be able to forgive her? Will James?
She presses her lips to the wild kneazle nest that’s Harry’s hair, so much like his father’s, and vows to her son that he will know his godfather. She’ll find a way to get him back. For all of their sake.
It doesn’t take long after that for Harry to settle into a deep sleep, and she reluctantly lays him back in his crib to follow her husband downstairs.
She wants to beg him to forgive her, to grab her wand and follow him out the door to save their best friend, but she can’t , and neither can he. “You leaving could break the charm. Dumbledore didn’t tell us if it could withstand that kind of visibility. What if someone sees you and follows you back? What if they capture you? James—” she stops before it becomes a sob and lays her forehead on his chest. “Please don’t go.”
***
He doesn’t know what to do. It’s the first time in a long time, longer than he can remember, that James doesn’t see a clear direction to start. Usually there’s something, anything, that helps his spinning mind focus on a point so that he can pour every ounce of energy that he has – and it’s usually a lot – towards that goal. This is war, and his best friend is missing. Captured by those who will do anything, short of killing him to get the information they need. Sirius Black is no good to Voldemort dead, but that fact brings James no relief.
There are worse things than death.
Running his hand through his hair, the pacing is no longer offering him any comfort or solution. Instead James focuses on something new, and he’s crossing the room rapidly to grab a quill, his favorite one, and a roll of parchment. The quill is dipped haphazardly into the inkpot but it doesn’t take long until everything he can possibly think of is being scrawled out across the parchment. Strategies, questions, anything and everything instinctual that is coming to mind pours out in an attempt to be useful – to come up with some way for someone to go in and find Sirius.
So lost in his thoughts, in the damn near roll of parchment he’s used up in an effort to get as much as he can to Moony, his wife’s voice startles him visibly. “I know.” The anger is gone, the desperation non-existent. He’s hyper focused on the task at hand, and once he finishes his latest thought, James is crossing the room to his wife this time, unable to keep away from her for long. “Lils, look at me. I know .”
Using his thumb James lifts Lily’s chin to give her a quick kiss. He loves her, and he doubts she can even fathom how much. Most days, he’s not even sure he can truly understand. He wants to thank her, thank her for not saying ‘I told you so’ when she has every right to. He can’t leave, he can’t leave his boy, their son, upstairs.
His hands are itching to get back to the task at hand, and his eyes flick back towards the mess he’s made at the table, but she needs him. It can wait a few minutes.... Seconds . Remus will be waiting for some kind of response, if a warning not to leave the house isn’t already on its way, and every second he doesn’t do something is another second that his brother is alone.
The very hands that are itching to do something opt to hold his wife, to rub her back, to ease her tears. He hates that she’s right, that he can’t go, that this isn’t a simple fix – even if he knows he’s the best man for the job.
The ability to stand still is rapidly disappearing and after another quick kiss to her forehead he’s back at the desk, rummaging through drawers to find what he’s looking for. “Doesn’t mean we’re not bloody well useful. You up to help come up with a plan?”
***
He tries to make the kiss quick, but she won’t let him get away that easily. Her husband, her sweet, ridiculous, open-hearted husband, whose already forgiven her. Who stayed. It’s not their best kiss. It’s soggy and salty, and she’s got cotton-mouth, but he’s here.
They’ll find Sirius.
“I love you,” she whispers, before tearing herself away. She gets to be with her family, and other families have been torn to pieces by Voldemort. Her family is being threatened. So she whacks James for being a smart ass, and wipes her cheeks absently while taking in his notes. “Help you, please. We all know who is going to be the assistant,” she muttered, spreading out his chaos a bit so she had room to think.
“We need to find a way to contact Remus.” It hardly needed to be said. “We need to figure out how much time we have, where they might be keeping him. If Dumbledore has anybody on the inside that we can trust—”
She’s only muttering now, frantically adding spells in the margins of James’ notes, filling in the blanks he’d left, solving the question marks he’d sprawled in his haste.
***
She pulls him back and he can’t help himself. James’ lips quirk upwards into a lopsided grin. “Are you flirting with me?” Stealing another kiss, his hands are in her hair – where they had spent the majority of their time in classes during seventh year- and he can’t help himself. There’s hope, damn it, and if anybody is capable of figuring this out it’s them. “Hardly the time, Evans. I’m going to need you to restrain yourself.”
As if Lily Potter needs to flirt with her husband – she already owns every piece of him.
“I love you too.” As if there had ever been a doubt. “Oy! And now you’re whacking me? Such mood swings. I don’t know about this, I might need you to step away from the desk. I don’t know how I feel having my plans laid bare in front of someone with such violent tendencies.” He’s trailing behind her now, not embarrassed in the slightest about the mess he’s created. It’s nothing his wife hasn’t seen before, and she’s become just as apt at deciphering his thoughts as the rest of the Marauders had.
Pushing a few scrolls to the side, James is quick to bring what he believes the most important ones to her attention. “Brilliant love, I’ve always wanted my own assistant. I think those magicians Vernon’s always on about have assistants with outfits... ” James trails off, another random thought coming to mind that he’s eager to write down, leaning over her to get a clean piece of parchment.
“Remus’ll know most of it. There isn’t anyone else, love.” It’s a cold reminder. “Dumbledore can’t even trust the people he has on his own side, let alone a double agent.”
Peter. It’s the elephant in the room James can’t begin to think about. Not until Sirius is back safe. The betrayal is too hot, too fresh – too damn confusing.
“We’re going to have to time whatever we do right – and we don’t have much of it.” His latest scribbles include a list of places where they could potentially go – new houses that may be needed.
***
She bumps him with her hip out of her way, biting back a grin. It’s hardly appropriate, flirting on the brink of disaster, but she’s learned the hard way that in this day and age to take every smile you can get, and don’t question it. “Focus, Potter, or I’ll tell Padfoot you were staring at my arse, while I was trying to save him.”
She narrows down her focus to the sheets James has pushed her way, locations, dark families, informants, trying to draw connections. No doubt Sirius’ family wants a go at him, if only to convert him and salvage the family name. She suppresses a shiver at the thought of the depths Walburga would sink to in order to achieve that end. And Bellatrix.
There isn’t anyone else, love. She pauses for a second, and covers his hand with hers.
“Right,” she says, steeling herself. This is war, after all. “So our initial goal is establishing contact with Remus. I can send him a note with the pop! Charm, but it would be risky to do it from here. Kingsley mentioned a few week ago they’d started tracking apparations… I’m not sure how a non-human apparation would appear on their tracking mechanisms… Owls are obviously out, and everyone from here to Ilvermorny knows your nicknames…Perhaps a location spell? I’m sure he’s done basic protection wards. Our Remus is clever—”
She need to read up on her healing charms and potions. She kept them pretty well stocked but it was hard to get ingredients to replenish the supply while they were on lock down and Harry had just used up the last of her fever reducer with a bit of colic…
“What is this?” she muttered, picking up a bit of parchment to look at closer. She can only just barely decipher the words. Molly Prewitt, Sirius’ cousin Andromeda, Petunia’s, Grandmother’s cottage at Whitby—
“James, this isn’t… You don’t think—?” It’s too horrible to say aloud. Her heart breaks as she looks at him, face crumpling. And she accused him of choosing Sirius over them. James Potter is a better man than anyone has ever given him credit for. Except for Sirius. Sirius has always known.
***
“He’d bloody well believe you too, wouldn’t he?” James should feel guilty for the genuine smile he feels, but Merlin’s pants if it isn’t the most hopeful he’s felt in ages. His wife is the most brilliant witch he’s ever known, that most anyone who has crossed paths with her has ever known, and by Godric they’re going to do it. They’re going to bring Sirius home and there’s nothing else to it.
They just need to bring him back sooner rather than later. Prior to their going into hiding, they had seen enough of what the Death Eaters had been up to – especially with innocent muggle bystanders. With an explicit order to work their way through his best mate’s mind – to break everything they can- to break him...
James clears his throat to distract himself from that specific spiral. There isn’t time, he reminds himself of his own words, and instead focuses on everything he can, and all of the holes that Lily may be able to figure out and put together.
“Yeah, I don’t reckon a Patronus is going to be enough this time.” There’s too much planning, and Remus won’t dare come to the house now. Not after everything that’s happened with Peter. If anything, it’s likely the Death Eaters have an even higher security on him now as well. But his wife’s charm? “Your brilliant invention might be the ticket, love. I could charm a letter much like the map, but Pettigrew.” He’ll choke on the word if he calls him Wormtail.
But if they use Lily’s charm, they’ll have to be long gone from the house, set up somewhere else just in case. He doesn’t know the workings of her charm, the effects. And while no one else did either, any potential unintended consequences weren’t worth the risk. So when she finds his list, he waits for her to piece it all together, as he knows she will.
“Merlin, no.” Lily hardly gets the chance to finish what she’s saying before James jumps in definitively. “No.” Bending down he steals another kiss, his hand resting gently on her cheek, as his thumb traces the soft skin along her jaw. “Not willingly .” It’s a harsh reality. “I don’t...I don’t know what they’re going to do to him, Lils. And V- him ,” it’s not fear that keeps his name silent, but stories of his wards, “all of the rumors suggest he’s skilled in occlumency.” Beyond skilled, but it goes without saying. “I need to keep you and Harry safe.”
***
A patronus would definitely be too risky. Wherever he was, they couldn’t risk blowing his cover, or having their message overheard. Her boys were brilliant and far ahead of their time, but excel in code writing, they did not. She could probably come up with some kind of scrambling charm, but it would still be too much of a risk to Moony for someone to see a patronus appear next to him.
Peter’s surname caught on James’ tongue like the foreign language it was. Even Peter would’ve sounded odd coming off his lips, it was always Wormtail, don’t step there, Wormtail, fetch me that parchment wouldya? Thanks, mate. She looked away and let him have his moment. It would take a lot of adjusting, a lot of mourning. It was a cruel thought that sparked through her mind, but she could only hope Peter Pettigrew did not make it through this war, because she would not be responsible for what would happen should she ever encounter him again.
James has always been more tactile than her, his touches always a bit weightier, a bit more solemn, like every time he touched her he felt honored. It was hard not to swoon, sometimes. Other times it was hard not to bat him away and let her do the dishes in peace. Her touch wasn’t imbued with the same feeling as his was, and it made her feel guilty occasionally, but James never seemed to care. Or even notice, honestly. He just liked being able to touch her. And for now, she let herself have the comfort he was offering. They were together, they were as safe as they could be in this moment. And they were going to save their friend. And she was going to give back James all the comfort and care his touch offered to her.
“Hey, hey. No one’s come for us yet. If— If anything happened… we’d know. He’d be here, or Sirius’—” body, she almost said. “—They’d brag about it, right? Parade it. Nothing’s happened yet.” She closed her eyes and rested her cheek in his hand, covering it with her own. “Sirius was the best out of all of us at Occlumency. He may not beat You-Know-Who, but… he’ll buy us as much time as he can. We’ll go. Somewhere new just in case, and then we’ll find him.”
Somewhere new. They’d have to leave. “James, that’s it. Somewhere new. If we’re leaving anyway, it doesn’t matter if they can track the apparation charm!”
***
Puzzles had always been interesting – Merlin knew the Marauders had come up with the fair share of them while at Hogwarts, but that had been for fun. For entertainment, and most had been born out of sheer boredom. This- this is not lazily lounging around the Gryffindor Common Room in an attempt to come up with something to do. This is Sirius’ life, and this war won’t claim his life too. Not if there’s anything James can do to stop it.
Briefly James wonders, how many of the Order is aware that it had been Peter? They had all known about the rat – something James can’t help but think fits. Everything had been planned meticulously to avoid, to circumvent any kind of traitor in their midst, but he had never for a second had considered that it would be his friend.
How many people had been killed because of Peter’s information? Had his own biased towards him prevented him from uncovering it sooner? How many times had Peter held his son, comforted him while they all devised ways to keep him safe ?
Nausea suddenly rears its ugly head, and James’ free hand finds the chair behind him and he wisely chooses to keep his mouth firmly shut.
Something must show on his face, James thinks, because Lily is quick to reassure him and he smiles despite the futility of it all. Nothing will make up for Peter’s betrayal, and until Sirius is with them – safely – he isn’t sure that he’ll be able to focus on much beyond what he can do within the limitations due to their situation. “Is the best,” he corrects in a way that he hopes comes off lightly, because the alternative is something that can’t be considered.
Of course. “You’re bloody brilliant, you know that?” Course she did, but that was beside the point. “We’ll just be gone. We’ll pack up, get set up...Then send what we need to Moony.” It sounds simple enough, but there’s room for error, with dire consequences. His hand rests on the back of her neck, tracing invisible patterns on her skin as he thinks, his brow furrowed in concentration. “I’d hate to ask Molly Prewett- or Weasley, now, isn’t it? They’ve a family of their own.”
***
Lily’s heart stops for a moment, in horror. She hadn’t meant— only that— Speechless at her unforgivable gaffe, Lily squeezes James’ hand. “Is the best,” she repeats, solemnly, a promise of its own. She’ll spend the rest of her life making up that slip of the tongue to Sirius, and it’ll be a long fucking time, too, she swears it. Because they’ll get him back, and he’ll keep being better than her occlumency, and she’ll be a right poor loser about it. It’ll be grand, it’ll be great, because he’ll be here.
“I’ll start packing everything right away. There’s not much we need really, mostly just Harry’s things, and, and the stuff of your parents’.” That what matters most, after the things they need to survive. She’ll live in rags in a box, as long as her boys are safe, and healthy and happy. All of her boys. James is utterly focused, his brain no doubt whirring with plans and failsafes and more plans, anything to get to Sirius. She loves him, she loves him so much, and she’ll die before she lets this get taken from him, too.
“Her brothers maybe? I remember one of them helped Mary MacDonald when we were in school. Can’t remember which, maybe it was both? I don’t know, but they had a safe house. Perhaps Dorcas knows someone…?” Her mind sets to whirring as well, focusing on different problems than James, but they’ve always complemented each other well. His hand is a grounding warmth on her neck and she lets herself just be in his arms. They’ll solve this, they’ll save him, there’s no other choice.