The Sugar Quill
Author: Thistlerose  Story: Thicker Than Water  Chapter: Default
The distribution of this story is for personal use only. Any other form of distribution is prohibited without the consent of the author.

February, 1980

February, 1980

 

 Lily heard footsteps and hurried back into the kitchen, so when James found her she was bent over the stove, innocently adding basil to her pasta sauce. She knew the moment he put his hands on her waist and rested his chin against her shoulder that she did not fool him, but that he was not angry.

 

 “How did he take it?” she asked softly.

 

 “Didn’t you hear?” He sounded exhausted.

 

 “Not everything,” she admitted. “You were talking very low.”

 

 “He took it about as well as I’d expected.”

 

 “Badly? But I didn’t hear any explosions.”

 

 Padfoot doesn’t explode the way normal people do,” he told her tiredly. “He smolders for a while, thinking he’s all right, so when he finally goes off, it’s--that word, nook-leer.”

 

 “Nuclear?”

 

 “Yeah, that. Anyway, I’m rather hoping he’ll explode while he’s still here. Make things easier on Moony.”

 

 “But Remus--” she’d never quite taken to the nicknames her husband and his friends had bestowed upon one another “--is his boyfriend. His partner. His--I don’t know. His--”

 

 “And I’m his--”

 

 He was interrupted by a crash from the bedroom. They both jumped apart at the sound, then exchanged a worried glance. A moment later Sirius emerged looking pale but otherwise composed. He stood in the doorway for a moment, his gaze flickering uncertainly over everything except the Potters. “Sorry about that mask thing,” he said at last.

 

 “Did you fix it?” James asked. “You know,” he said, eyebrows raised, when Sirius finally looked at him blankly, “with your wand.  Reparo?”

 

 The other man scratched at the back of his neck. “Um, no.”

 

 James sighed, then shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, Pads. I’ll take care of it later. C’mon, sit down.”

 

 At the same time, Sirius said, “So what’s to eat?” and Lily, who could contain herself no longer, blurted, “I’m so sorry, Sirius, really--”

 

 Both her husband and his best friend fixed their gazes upon her, the hazel mildly reproachful, the blue warningly, and she found herself flushing. “Well, I am,” she went on doggedly, glaring back at Sirius. “I’m sorry. Maybe you don’t want--”

 

 He cut her off with a sharp, “Lily.” Then, as tears of frustration burned her eyes and she was certain she looked like a damp tomato, “Sorry,” he said, more gently. “I’m all right. Don’t get upset, Lils. It’s not worth it.” He walked tiredly to the table and slumped into the nearest chair.

 

 “But your brother,” she began, even though James was poking her in the side and shooting her furtive shutupshutup looks.

 

 Reg was a waster.” Sirius’ voice was perfectly calm, and he did not look up as he spoke. “James is my brother.”

 

 Beside her, James made a small, painful sound that had it come from the throat of anyone else in the world, she’d have described as a bleat.

 

 “Any beer?” Sirius asked pleasantly.

 

 “I’ll get supper,” Lily said, a little helplessly.

 

 

 

 James watched Sirius carefully as they ate, and Lily watched both of them. She’d never seen her husband so solicitous, and so determined not to appear so. He refilled Sirius’ glass without ever needing to be asked. He inquired about Remus, if the two of them had any plans for the weekend. He asked about the motorbike. He was careful to avoid all mention of the war, the Order, Death Eaters, or families of any sort. Sirius seemed aware--his smiles were a little too indulgent, Lily thought, and his eyebrows lifted a little too frequently--but he made no protest, and if James was aware of Sirius’ awareness, Lily did not know.

 

 They were like brothers, she thought. Like twins, almost. They loved each other. Deeply. It was beautiful to watch, but saddening to, because this was the side of James with which she’d finally fallen in love, and this was the side he’d kept from her for so many years. As far as she knew, only Sirius had seen it before her and she supposed that on another night she’d have been jealous, but now she found she could not be. Why James had hidden this compassionate, responsible side she did not understand, could only be glad she’d discovered it in time.

 

 If she was jealous of anything, she mused as she twirled spaghetti on her fork and stole glances at the two men, it was the strength of their friendship. Alice Longbottom was her own best friend, and she loved the other woman very much, but they were not this close. They were not sisters. Petunia, for all her foibles, was her sister and Lily could never forget that, as angry and frustrated as she became, could never transfer that designation to anyone else in the world. Maybe it was because even after eleven years she clung to a stupid and sentimental hope that Petunia would someday accept her and her world. Petunia’s marriage to Vernon Dursley curtailed that hope quite a bit, but Lily was nothing if not optimistic, and maybe, now that both she and her sister were pregnant…maybe something good could come of that.

 

 Reflexively, Lily slipped a hand under the table and pressed it to her still-flat belly. She felt the baby rippling inside her, and despite everything, found herself smiling, as she almost invariably did when she thought about her unborn son or daughter. Henry or Rose. Her child and James’.

 

 “You’re mental,” he’d told her when she’d announced her pregnancy--inauspiciously, only two days after he’d proposed.

 

 “Mentality has nothing to do with it,” she’d retorted. “It’s obviously not something I thought about. It just happened. Now, we have to deal with it.”

 

 “But how did it happen?” he’d demanded, and she’d regarded him rather witheringly.

 

 “How does it usually happen, James Potter?” she’d snapped. “If I recall, Madam Pomfrey gave us all the talk our sixth year. She told us how it happens, and she told us that contraceptive charms have about a two per cent chance of failure. Or did you skive off that particular lesson?”

 

 “I was there,” James had grumbled. “Think I spent most of it passing dirty pictures back and forth with Padfoot.”

 

 And later, after they’d both said and taken back quite a lot, “So, do we keep it, Lily?” he had asked, and she’d said, “I’m keeping it. We’re getting married and keeping this baby.”

 

 To which he’d replied wearily, “There’s a bloody war going on, in case you hadn’t noticed,” and too tired to snap, she’d said dryly, “Having chosen a side, I am very well aware of the fact that there’s a war going on. I want to keep this baby anyway. People are dying, we make more. Voldemort thinks only purebloods have the right to live, we have this baby--you and me, a pureblood and a Muggle-born--and we raise him or her to be powerful and loving and good. We show him. We show everyone.”

 

 James had dropped his head into his hands at that point. “Merlin,” he’d groaned. “Lily, that can’t be the right reason to have a baby. We’re only nineteen.”

 

 She’d sat down beside him on the bed and put her arms around him. “I know,” she’d said, and then had been unable to come up with anything wise or witty.

 

 At length he’d said, his voice muffled by his hands, even though by then he was leaning into her embrace, “This is messed up, Lils. This isn’t how I wanted it at all.” And when she’d poked him in the ribs because he still would not look up at her, “All right, it’s probably not how you wanted it, either. I wanted us to do everything right. Dating. Getting married. Honeymoon. Living together. A baby…eventually, I guess, but not now. Not while there’s a war going on.”

 

 “Why do we have to follow a script?” she’d asked, beginning to falter. “Why can’t we play it by ear? I’m going to have this baby, and I’m going to marry you. Let’s do that, and then we’ll start doing things right. We’re only nineteen. That’s what you said. We have a long time to get back on the right track. Don’t we? I mean,” she’d gone on, realizing as she did that this conversation could only end badly, “what exactly is right? There’s a war going on. How are things supposed to be done right when there’s a war? And since when have you followed convention? Your best friend is a poof and he’s in love with a werewolf. My sister’s having a baby in a few months. Alice Longbottom and Molly Weasley are pregnant. It’s normal.”

 

 He hadn’t looked up, so he hadn’t seen her tears. He’d said cuttingly, “That’s not normal, Lily. That’s a bloody epidemic.”

 

 

 

 They’d had a tense few days after that. He’d sought refuge with Sirius, Remus, and Peter, and she’d cried out her confusion on Alice’s shoulder, but they’d fumbled back to each other. They’d worked through their differences, and a little before Christmas they’d had a beautiful wedding. They’d been surrounded by friends and family--even Petunia had deigned to appear--and it had been possible to forget, for a day at least, that there was no war, that this might not be the last time they were all together and happy. And in July they would have a beautiful baby. What it meant, James had said just the other day, while rhapsodizing about his impending fatherhood, was that they now had one more thing for which to fight. And that made them all the stronger.

 

 People die, Lily thought, stroking her belly and watching Sirius’ face, and more people are born. That’s just how it works. Somewhere inside her, an idea began to take shape.

 

 After four pints, Sirius was yattering animatedly about Quidditch scores. After five he was guffawing over the appalling tie Sandra Macnair had bought for Peter, and his apparent need to wear it every day, wherever he went. By six he was divulging to a decidedly queasy-looking James, the details of his and Remus’ last day off together. James, Lily noticed, barely drank. She had not been watching carefully, but she was quite certain he was still on his first pint when Sirius slammed his seventh onto the table, causing the silverware to rattle.

 

 M’not pissed,” he said abruptly, glaring at the dark window.

 

 “Nah, you’re not,” James agreed, putting his own glass down carefully.

 

 M’not pissed ‘cause m’not upset. M’not upset ‘cause there’s nothing t’be p’set ‘bout.”

 

 “Nah,” James said again, gently.

 

 Regulus was an idiot.” His voice hitched on the name, and he blinked as though in surprise.

 

 “Yeah, he was,” said James.

 

 “Anyway, he wasn’t really m’brother. You said he wasn’t. You’re my brother.” He looked at James then, his eyes wide, bloodshot, and deeply pleading.

 

 “Yeah,” said James, and rising, he kissed Sirius’ forehead, and Lily felt her insides quake.

 

 “He sent the Crups after me,” said Sirius desperately. His face was hidden behind James’ broad shoulder, but Lily heard the panicked edge in his voice and wished she could close her ears. “He did, d’you remember? The night I ran away. He said, ‘If you like playing the bitch so much, here’re some real dogs.’ I told you that, remember? Fucking idiot. He was thirteen, then. He was sixteen. I’m going to be twenty in two weeks. Long time ago, he used to think he could catch up with me. Thought he’d finally b’able to beat the shit out of me, the way I always beat the shit out of him. He’s never going to be twenty. In a hundred fucking years he’s not going to be twenty. M’not upset. S’pect my folks are, though. There won’t be an owl from them, waiting for me at home. If you hadn’t told me, I still might not know. Who the fuck becomes a Death Eater at sixteen? Who the fuck decides to go killing people at sixteen? What was I doing when I was sixteen? I was torturing Slytherins and banging impressionable young werewolves. And they called me the rebel. I ask you.”

 

 Lily rose and touched James’ shoulder lightly. He turned and they exchanged a glance; then he nodded and she went to the front hallway where their owl, Gustavus, was perched. She penned a quick note to Remus, attached it to Gus’s leg, then sent him out into the cloud-choked winter night. Then she went to the bedroom, found the spare duvet and pillows, and took them to the living room. As she arranged them on the sofa she heard Sirius slur,

 

 “Right coward he was. Scared to walk past all them house-elf heads. When he was five. Or younger. Don’t remember. So our dear old Mum in all her maternal wisdom charmed ‘em all to stare at him. Thought it’d cure the little bugger. Bit of advice, Prongsy: don’t do that to the sproglet. Could use a fag. Moony made me quit, the bloody poofter. M’not pissed.”

 

 “Nah,” said James.

 

 “Poked their eyes out one night. The house-elves. With my wand. Kreacher caught me. Mum did her nut and put ‘em back. So I had to hold his hand. His. Every fucking time he had to walk past that wall. D’you know what m’dear old Daddy did when he found out? Said, ‘My sons’r’not…’ Can’t say it f’Lily’s listening. Put a charm on our hands. Burned whenever we touched. Fucking idiot.”

 

 This time, James’ response was too low to hear.

 

 Lily sank onto the sofa, one pillow clutched tightly against her belly.

 

 “Why’d he tell Snivellus about me and Moony?  Snivellus. Sent me an owl two weeks ago. Said he wanted to see me. Thought it was a trap. No, I didn’t. I just didn’t want to see him. I think he wanted my help. I didn’t want to help him. D’always help you, Prongs. Always. You’re my brother.”

 

 Lily jumped to her feet and strode back into the kitchen. There she found Sirius slumped in his chair and James trying without success to close his lax fingers around a glass of water.

 

 Moony’s coming,” she announced. They both looked up at her, James with relief, Sirius blearily, and she remembered suddenly that she thought their nicknames were completely stupid and made a conscious effort never to use them. “I think he is, anyway,” she hedged. “I sent him an owl. And I made up the sofa.”

 

 “Thank you,” James mouthed, over his shoulder. Sirius smiled vaguely at her and grasped the water glass. He held it contemplatively for a moment; Lily knew he was going to drop it about a second before he did, and the shatter and splash in the otherwise silent room sent a spear of cold through her heart.

 

 “Sorry, sorry,” Sirius mumbled, bending to gather the shards while they watched numbly. He cut his fingers. The bright red droplets on the white porcelain tiles and Sirius’ muttered curse snapped them back to life.

 

 James shoved him out of the way wordlessly and pulled his wand from his pocket. Lily grabbed a rag from the counter and pushed it at him while her husband repaired the glass and cleaned up the water and the blood with two quick spells. Then they each took an arm and hauled Sirius bodily from the chair. He made no protest, did not speak a word until they had him in the living room and were simultaneously pulling off his boots and helping him onto the sofa. Then he began to babble again.

 

 “We can’t get married, me and Remus,” he confided as though it were some sort of physical malfunction. “I don’t know if he wants to marry me, but I want to marry him, and I can’t. M’not allowed.” He frowned and said reflectively, “We all broke into Filch’s office a bunch of times, and we weren’t allowed. Why can’t I marry Remus, even though I’m not allowed?” He looked from one to the other as though for an answer, but they hadn’t one, so he went on, “It’s not fair, really. S’pect Umbitch had something to do with that.”

 

 “Don’t think so, mate,” said James softly, holding Sirius’ hands clenched around the rag--something he seemed disinclined to do voluntarily. “Not that, anyway.”

 

 “I want to marry Remus,” Sirius said plaintively and as though he had not heard. “Not that he wants to marry me. We can’t have children.  You know why,” he added, eyeing James significantly.

 

 As Lily watched, her husband turned several shades of red in quick succession, but still managed to croak, “I suspect that has something to do with the fact that you haven’t a fanny between you. It’s one of the required components, you know. Just as well. Both ruddy plonkers, you are.”

 

 “Yes,” said Sirius solemnly, and turned to Lily. “I love you,” he said, and actually smiled when she started. “I love this great pillock, too,” he added, jutting his chin in James’ direction. “If you hurt him, I’ll kill you. I’ll kill him if he hurts you. I said I’d kill Regulus, you know, but he managed quite well on his own. Gormless git. The thing is,” he told her, frowning again, as though he were concentrating very deeply on the point he was about to make, “the thing is, Reg really was my brother. Prongs said he’d hit me if I said that, but he was.” He paused expectantly, and after a minute of confused silence, James cuffed him lightly on the shoulder. He went on, “And I think I’m going to wind up killing Bella and Cissa. Which leaves Andy and Ted and Dora. And me. And me and Remus can’t have children, so it’s all on Dora’s shoulders. Moony doesn’t have any brothers or sisters. So, my family can only get smaller.”

 

 The flatness in his tone and the dryness of his eyes gripped Lily by the heart, and wrung it painfully. It had taken her a long time to care for this person, and she still had her reservations. He had been one of the first to make her feel unwelcome her first year at Hogwarts. Later she’d learned about his pureblood family and the hell they’d given him after his Sorting into Gryffindor, but that knowledge would have meant nothing to the hurt and confused eleven-year-old she’d been. He was reckless, rude, and self-centered. But a part of her had always admired the loyalty and love he’d shown James almost from the start, and when she’d finally understood it, his ability to light Remus Lupin from within, as though the other man were a lamp. Yes, he’d called her Mudblood more than once, but he hadn’t in the last seven years and now he was fighting against the wizard who wanted her and all Muggles, Muggle-borns, and mixed-bloods dead. Yes, he’d been pretty horrible to her sister at her wedding, and he still teased Peter Pettigrew mercilessly, but he’d been good to her since she’d begun dating James and he’d been truly wonderful since she’d become pregnant. At first she’d thought he only cared for her because she belonged to James, was carrying James’ child. But three weeks ago there’d been a Muggle-baiting in Lily’s parents’ neighborhood, and the moment he’d heard, Sirius had gone straight to their house, had arrived even before Lily and James. They’d found him sharing tea with the Evanses, and explaining to them calmly what had happened and how they could protect themselves in future.

 

 It must have been difficult for him, she thought now as she and James tucked the duvet around his shoulders. His parents would have despised hers; they despised their son because he could not. Still he’d done it, had endured the entire encounter with aplomb and only revealed afterward to James and Lily how very uncomfortable it had made him.

 

 She’d have done the same for him. That, she knew, did not equal love on either his part or hers. Still, there was mutual trust and respect, and there was love for James binding them. Maybe that was why she felt the need to do more for him now than she’d already done. Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that he too belonged to James, and had long before she. Maybe it had to do with the fact that broken, he was more pitiful than anyone she had ever known. Maybe it was because he and Regulus could never now reconcile while she and Pet still had a chance, or because if anything ever happened to James she would still have his child and that was one comfort, however unthinkable, that Sirius and Remus could never have.

 

 Whatever the reason, she clasped his hands in her own and said the one thing she could think to say that might make things better for him.

 

 

 

 They had just gotten Sirius to sleep when Remus Apparated onto their front step. It was past midnight. He’d come from the flat, but he hadn’t taken the time to change or eat, had only grabbed up a change of clothing for himself and Sirius, and their toothbrushes. He didn’t tell them what sort of Order-related business had kept him away all day and half the night, politely refused their offers of food, only hugged them both tightly, then went to Sirius, who hadn’t woken but had twitched, then sighed in his sleep at the touch of his lover’s hand upon his hair.

 

 When James and Lily left them they were spooned like littermates on the sofa, Remus arms tight around Sirius’ chest, and there were tears tangled in the long, down swept black lashes.

 

 “He was crying in his sleep,” Lily said as, the lights finally extinguished, she climbed into bed beside her husband and rested her head on his chest. “He couldn’t cry in front of us. He was waiting for Remus. Should we not tell him?” James was silent, but he was not asleep; his fingers toyed with the end of her long night plait. Lily took that as a no and because she found the silence discomforting, added, “He didn’t explode. He just sort of fizzled.”

 

 “Well,” James said as he stroked her hair, sounding a breath away from sleep, “I think that’s mostly your fault. Most do find him irresistible when he’s in drenched-puppy mode, but you? What possessed you? Godfather?”

 

 “It was all I could think to say. Anyway, I think he’ll be a good one. Don’t you?”

 

 “Well, it’s not like we’re asking him to do something he wouldn’t have done anyway. He already considers himself an uncle. Remus told me the other day their closet’s half-full of baby gifts. And I know he’s written at least three lullabies. If anything happens to us…” He paused, and Lily waited, but he never completed the sentence. Instead he went on with a cheer that sounded only slightly forced, “He’s crazy about the kid. You saw his face. Should’ve heard him talking, too, when we were out…yesterday, was it? Merlin, it’s been a long couple of days.”

 

 D’you think he’ll be all right?”

 

 The fingers playing with her hair were beginning to slow. “Yeah, I think so.”

 

 “Are you worried about something?”

 

 “No. Why?”

 

 “You shivered.”

 

 “Did I?”

 

 She shrugged. “It’s cold. It’s going to get warmer, though. Soon, I think. It’ll be summer when our baby is born. Henry or Rose.”

 

 “Harry,” James mumbled softly.

 

 “Hmm?”

 

 “Harry. Just like it better. I’m James Henry. Let the kid be Harry James. If it’s a boy. Something different.” He yawned. “And if it’s a girl…mmm…Dandelion.”

 

 Rose,” said Lily.

 

 “Tulip.”

 

 “Rose.”

 

 “How about a compromise? Primrose.”

 

 Lily pinched him.

 

 “It’ll be all right, m’dear.”

 

 “Promise?”

 

 “Promise. But I lied before. When you asked if I was worried. I’m not, really. I was just thinking tonight, how it would be living without my brother. I couldn’t bear it, Lils. I didn’t want to say anything and upset him, but I can’t imagine my life without him. Or you. Especially not you. I’d die to keep you safe. You, him, our baby. It’s a little frightening, having this many people for whom I’d die. That’s the bloody problem with loving people, I guess. But we do it anyway. I guess that’s what makes us better than our enemies?” He yawned. “Blimey. Lils, tell me to shut up.”

 

 “I love you.”

 

 S’not the same.”

 

 “Isn’t it?” She snuggled against him. “I love you,” she whispered again.

 

 They were quiet after that, and presently Lily felt James’ heartbeat steady, and the rise and fall of his chest became deeper. It was one of her few comforts these days, falling asleep to the rhythm of his breathing. She felt sandwiched between him and her baby, as though between them they were guarding her, keeping her safe. She knew James did not like to hear it, but she was willing to die for either of them, for the man she had once despised and the child she did not yet know. But that thought too was oddly comforting. Her last conscious thought was for her child, and it was, You’re well-protected, my love, and now you have three people who’d do anything in the world for you. So, sleep without fear.

 

 

 

 01/04/04

//
Write a review! PLEASE NOTE: The purpose of reviewing a story or piece of art at the Sugar Quill is to provide comments that will be useful to the author/artist. We encourage you to put a bit of thought into your review before posting. Please be thoughtful and considerate, even if you have legitimate criticism of a story or artwork. (You may click here to read other reviews of this work).
* = Required fields
*Sugar Quill Forums username:
*Sugar Quill Forums password:
If you do not have a Sugar Quill Forums username, please register. Bear in mind that it may take up to 72 hours for your account to be approved. Thank you for your patience!
*Comment:
The Sugar Quill was created by Zsenya and Arabella. For questions, please send us an Owl!

-- Powered by SQ3 : Coded by David : Design by James --