Lily woke with a start. The moonlight came through the window - bright, less than a week from full, when the boys would be going out on their camping excursion - and illuminated the empty space in the bed beside her. She slid her hands over the mattress. It was still warm with James's body heat; he hadn't been gone long.

She got up and pulled her pyjama robe around her shoulder, tying the waist as she slipped down the stairs, holding the railing and carefully skipping that pesky last step as she rounded her way into the living room.

James was sitting on the coffee table, staring down into the hearth. 

"You're mad if you think that, Prongs," Sirius's voice carried from the fireplace, and Lily paused, hovering on the stairs, carefully staying out of sight. "None of us are going anywhere - especially Lilith. She married you, for Merlin's sake, even I have never done that."

"Sirius..." James's voice was exhausted and tremulous.

"I'm sorry, I'm just trying to make you feel better." Sirius was quiet a moment. Lily could hear the crackling fire and the shifting of wood as smoldering bits of the logs fell around Sirius's face. His voice was solemn then. "I know exactly what you mean when you say that you don't feel like you're enough. I think all of us go through that, you know? The amount of times I've felt like I don't deserve to have you lot as my mates is  - it's uncountable, James, you know? But here's the thing. You don't need to deserve it. It isn't that kind of thing. There's no bar, mate, no expectations."

"There are always expectations," James answered quietly.

"What do you expect of me, then? What criteria am I being judged by?" Sirius asked, "I'd really like to know so I maintain myself properly then, so I don't cack up the procession of our friendship going forward."

James sighed heavily.

"C'mon. Just one little expectation you have of me."

"Sirius..."

"I'll give you my list when you give me yours," Sirius's voice was firm. 

Lily leaned forward slightly and peered 'round the end of the stairs. The moonlight poured through the large windows in the living room, turning all the room shades of blue, lavender in the places where the warm glow of the fire in the hearth touched. And there was James - a dark indigo silhouette, head hanging down, hair falling over his forehead... James ran his hand through his hair. 

"What if -" James's voice broke and he paused, his hands sliding over his face now, steepleing over his nose. He breathed deeply for a moment, rebalancing his thoughts, then said, "What if - I can't - give Lily what she wants? What if I'm not - enough?"

There was a long pause. 

Lily was shaking, tears in her eyes. She felt like her heart had been pulled out of her chest, hearing James say those words. Her hands clutched the bannister for support.

"Why don't you ask her that yourself?" Sirius asked. "She's on the stairs."

James turned 'round and though she pulled back hurriedly, he'd spotted her. James stood up and walked over to the stairs. Sirius stayed in the fireplace just long enough to see that she hadn't run off up stairs and that Lily came down the last two steps to wrap her arms around James and then he drew back into the flat in East London, leaving the Potters alone.

James and Lily stood at the foot of the stairs, hugging and holding onto one another, silent tears falling over both their faces.

"What if I can't ever give you babies, Evans?" James whispered.

"You will."

"You heard the doctor you heard him say I'm inadequate, that I can't --"

"James, doctors can be wrong."

"But what if he isn't?" James asked.

"He is."

"But what if?"

Lily drew back slightly, put her hands on either side of James's face and stared up into his sad brown eyes - red from emotion, defeated-looking, tired... She cupped his cheeks with her fingers and wiped a tear from across his cheek bone. "Then you, James Potter, are enough."

He closed his eyes, brow pinching with doubt.

"No, listen to me. If we can't have kids, then we can't have kids. I'll be heart broken, of course, but whatever happens I'll have you and I love you more than anything else in the world, James. You're the only one of you. And I could never live without you. I could have a hundred babies, James, but if you weren't there - it wouldn't be enough. But you are enough - you are enough without even a single baby, James. I wouldn't give you up for the entire world; not even for the entire universe."

James was quiet.

"James I swore an unbreakable vow, and I made it with all of my heart, that I'd be with you for better or worse, remember?"

He nodded.

"I'm not going anywhere, honey."

"You promise, Lily?" James's voice was barely a whisper.

"James," Lily said, and she stared into his eyes again. "I solemnly swear it."

He pressed his face into the crook of her neck, then, and held on tight.

Sirius sat in the living room in the flat in East London in the dark, sank down into the cushions of the couch, thinking about James and the stuff he'd said - about being enough. Sirius was lost in thought when the locks on the front door clicked opened and Peter Pettigrew snuck into the flat, quiet as a mouse.

He wasn't alone.

Sirius stared in shocked silence as Peter led Oni Lamm through the door, re-closing it and doing the locks back up. He waved for her to follow him and he put one finger over his lips, showing her to be quiet. She nodded, and they snuck into the hallway and disappeared into the shadow. A moment later, Sirius heard Peter's bedroom door open and then close behind them.

A strange feeling came over Sirius then. Something that hovered between feeling jealous and betrayed; though he couldn't quite pinpoint why he should feel either of those things. After all, it wasn't like he himself had any interest in Oni Lamm, no matter what their parents had decided. Further, it was in no way his business what - or who - Peter did, really. But that weird feeling stirred in the pit of Sirius's stomach just the same.

Below that, even, was a quiet worry that mirrored the angsty feeling James had been exuding, the residual tingling from the love magic, Sirius reckoned - from feeling what James had felt. Yet it hit a little close to home, too, and he felt like it was sort of hovering just under the surface of his own skin, too.

He got up and wandered into his own bedroom and found Remus sprawled across their bed, mouth hanging open, limbs splayed every which way. He smiled at this vision and crawled up onto the bed, sliding up against Remus's side and reaching over to grab his arm, pulling Remus over himself like he was wrapping himself in a blanket.

A sleepy hum came from Remus.

Sirius grinned.

Jasper Odair sat up with Meg that night. "It just goes to show that you never know who is broken under the surface," he was saying. "Even the strongest people... even the people who you think are pillars... even they're hurting under it all."

Meg nodded, "Exactly. That's why what you do is so important, Jasper... You're in the business of saving lives and I'm so proud of you."

Jasper flushed. 

She kissed his face and he slid his arm around her.

"I never want to take for granted that anyone is fine, no matter how they seem they ought to be," Jasper said solemnly. "I never want the boys to feel like we expect more of them than they're capable of. I never want any of them to have a reason to stand at a podium like that and speak those kinds of words about us, about our expectations..."

"The Potters were great parents, Jasper. Even James said it wasn't his parents so much as his self perception and self expectation, you know? We can only do our best and offer our kids support and love, we can only love them."

Jasper nodded.

But it felt important, it felt big, it felt like something he wanted to wake all of the boys up in the middle of the night and tell them - that he loved them and expected nothing from them except that they be who they are and that they are enough and that they would always be enough no matter what happened in the future, no matter where life took them... He wanted to imprint tat knowledge into their very souls.

He ran his hand over Meg's rounding stomach, could feel the twins in there kicking around.

He closed his eyes.

Upstairs, unknowing any of this was going on in the floors below, Oliver Kent sat up, reading an owl from Wally Grant, staring out the window at the moon over Diagon Alley below, the street quiet for once. The signs for the shops shifted slightly in a breeze. Oliver smoothed the parchment on his desk, looking down at Wally's spindled, messy writing, and he sighed.

It was an apology, for having the argument with Oliver that day. 

I knew there was more to the bruise and instead of being a good friend I was a prat and I ought to know better. I know you wouldn't lie to me unless you thought you had a really, really good reason and it's alright. I wish you knew that I wouldn't have judged you and that you'd trusted me with the truth sooner. I'm really sorry, Ollie. I love you so much and I'm so sorry I wasn't very loving to you through this. Please forgive me.

Oliver didn't know how to respond.

How do you reply back to a letter that said all of the words you needed to hear? Or - or nearly all of them, anyway. After all, although it said Wally loved him, it didn't say that Wally needed him or wanted him or wanted to be together again, only that he was sorry and Oliver couldn't tell if it was sorry like a friend or sorry like something more and it was tearing him up.

He wanted to ask, but he didn't know the words.

But he supposed that if it was only sorry as a friend then that would have to be enough.