Remus was face-down in his pillows, exhausted, when Sirius leaped onto the bed, making the mattress bounce, flipping Remus like a pancake. "Wake up, Moony. Wake up."

"Uhgggmhhhh," Remus groaned, grabbing the pillow and pulling it over his face. "Too tired. Sleep."

"No, but like you have to wake up and come see this before I believe that I'm completely gone mad."

"You are completely gone mad," Remus grunted into the down, voice muffled.

"Mooooooooonyyyyyyyyyy," Sirius moaned, "Come on please, please, please, wake up - wake up - wake - up - wake - up - wake - up - wake ---"

"Oh confound you!" Remus threw the pillow from his face, "WHAT?"

"Come out here. Hurry." Sirius leaped over Remus to the floor on the opposite side of the bed and grabbed hold of his arms, tugging him to his feet and dragging him hurriedly out of the bedroom and into the living room. Remus stumbled no less than three times on the way.

"What's on?" yawned Peter, poking his head out of his bedroom, eyes red and blearily. His hair tufted up at an odd angle on one side.

"Dunno, this nutter's mental," Remus groaned.

"COME SEE WORMTAIL!" Sirius answered, continuing at pulling Remus down the hall enthusiastically.

Peter shrugged and shuffled after the pair of them.

There they stood, three Marauders, in the living room of the flat in East London - Remus in full pyjamas, Sirius in his undershorts and Queen t-shirt, and Peter in just his shorts. Peter looked about confused as Sirius had them standing in a row before the hearth. "Sorry, what're we looking at?" he asked.

"Hell if I know," yawned Remus.

"LOOK AT THE PORTRAIT YOU DREW OF REGULUS!"

Remus looked. Stared at it several seconds. Then, suddenly more awake, "What the --- H - How? How?"

Peter looked, then looked back at Remus, "What?"

"He's asleep!"

Peter looked up at the portrait. His eyes widened.

Sirius exclaimed. "Look - look at his chest. He's breathing. HE'S BREATHING. Did you know portraits breathe?! HE'S MOVING. He SNEEZED. He said THANKS when I said bless you."

Remus took a step forward and he picked up the frame. 

When he did the portrait stirred and the eyes blinked opened slowly, looking up at him. They were watery and full of emotion, something between confusion and and interest. He didn't say anything, he just seemed to shrink back a bit.

"Remarkable," Remus murmured.

Peter leaned closer to look. "Were you trying to make a living portrait?" he asked, glancing from the portrait up to Remus's face. 

Remus shook his head. "I assumed there was some... convoluted magic to it..."

Sirius hung back, staring at the portrait from several steps away, still wild-eyed.

Remus said, "Usually living portraits are commissioned works, but I don't know much else beyond that... I know with Professor Veigler's it took a long time for it to become sentient, more than a year... and he still hasn't entirely taken on Ned's personality. He only just spoke the first time at Christmas when we were all at Fallengunder, if you recall. This would be similar, I'd imagine?"

Sirius asked, "But - but why? What does it mean? 

Peter piped up, "Does it mean he isn't at rest, like how ghosts are? How they're un-un rested souls?"

"No, he has to be at rest," Sirius said, sounding panicked. "Please. He has to be! Because James said he was with Maryrose and --"

"No, no, calm down - he's at rest, this doesn't effect whether he's at rest or not." Remus said, "Portraits aren't their true selves. Portraits hold some of the personality of a person, and sometimes a bit of the memory, but they don't actually connect with the soul directly. He's gone, he's at rest. This portrait isn't actually Regulus... I believe it's more like the rendering of Regulus as he was seen by - well, me, as I'm the artist."

Sirius frowned.

Seeing Sirius's face, Remus said, "But, of course, I might be wrong, I'll have to - to research it a bit more." Remus paused, studying the face looking back at himself. "Just... please be careful with it until I've had a chance to look into it a bit? Don't go - getting all attached - or - or what have you? Not yet? I mean, I'm not sure what his personality will be like if he starts speaking."

"He did speak, he said thank you when I said bless you," Sirius said.

"I know, but  --" Remus paused. "Just be careful." He handed the frame to Sirius.

Sirius stared into the frame as the portrait yawned again, and blinked a few times, then looked back up at Sirius. The smile that Remus had drawn him with came across his mouth then, and a couple of near-impossible to see dimples popped his cheeks. It had been years since Sirius had seen Regulus's dimples. When they were children.

"Reg?" Sirius whispered.

The portrait's eyes met his, but it didn't speak.

The flat over Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor was a buzz in the morning as the Daily Prophet arrived. The newspaper was dropped at the kitchen table by a tawny owl, who Jasper paid with a strip of bacon that he was cooking. Meg was stirring blueberries into pancake batter, Eli standing on a chair beside her, helping, a huge grin on his face. Jasper was whistling aimlessly as he waved his wand and the bacon flipped over, sizzling merrily in the pan, and unravelled the newspaper.

"Bloody hell," he said.

"What?" Meg asked, looking up.

Jasper laughed. "James Potter's on the front page."

"What?" Meg turned about and looked over Jasper's shoulder.

GIANTS ATTACK IN IRELAND; AURORS DEFEAT GURG; POTTER SAVES THE DAY, the top headline read. There was a magical shot of the village of Dunlewey Proper, flattened houses and the lot, smoke rising up from the rubble, and a crowd of people gathered about. A couple of them waved when the photos saw Jasper looking at them - including, he spotted with surprise, Sean Buckner and Annalee McKinnon. Juxtaposed with the image of Dunlewey was a photo of James Potter, looking rather confused and embarassed, as though even the photograph wasn't sure how it got there. Below that, a picture of Harry Underhill, bruised, but looking determined and proud. One last photo showed a cluster of aurors standing in the grass, a bit battered, but triumphant just the same.

Meg's jaw dropped. "What in the world?"

The article said that James had saved thirty people from their homes after they'd been stepped upon by giants and collapsed. Nearly half the residents of Dunlewey Proper, the wizarding portion of the village, were out of homes but thankful to be alive because of James's efforts.

"The minute I said me grandmum was at home and might need help, there wasn't a moment's hesitation," Sean Buckner was quoted saying. "He went right into rescue mode and it's only on account of James Potter that my grandmum and I are alive right now to talk about it."

"He put himself in peril for the sake of my boys," a mum named Saoirse said, "He even saved my son's kitten, Pistachio."

"Don't get me wrong," said a man who wished to remain anonymous declared, "The aurors that defeated the giants were very brave, but this Potter bloke was in the thick of it, getting us out of the aftermath before it was even over. A good deal of people would've been kill't had he not been there."

"Not a single member of this community was lost," Harry Underhill was quoted in the article, commending James Potter, and promising that he would be rewarded for his special services.

Jasper looked up at Meg.

She said, "Well isn't that just James Potter all over!"

"It sure is," Jasper said, smiling. 

"What's James Potter all over?" Oliver asked, stepping into the kitchen, his hair tufted in odd angles from sleep, wearing his brand new pyjamas that Jasper and Meg had bought him, and a pair of slippers. Jasper handed Oliver the newspaper as Oliver sat down and his eyes widened looking it over. "Wow," he said in awe.

"I want to see, too," Eli said, slippng off the chair he'd been standing on to rush over and climb up Oliver's lap and peer at the paper. "That man came to our house," he said pointing at James.

"Yeah, he did," Oliver said.

"He was nice," Eli said.

Oliver nodded.

"Saving children Monday, match making Sean and Annalee Tuesday and Wednesday, hero of Dunlewey Thursday --" Jasper shook his head. "What'll it be today you reckon?"

"I'd like to put my money on resting up, but it's James Potter, so who knows," Meg said, sliding a plate of blueberry pancakes in front of Oliver and Eli each. "I'm going to go get the other kids up."

"Alright," Jasper said, then, turning to the kids, "Who wants bacon?"

"Special services? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" James flushed.

"It means you did a good thing!" Lily said.

They were sitting in the bed at Mungo's, side by side, the Daily Prophet on their knees.

"I just did the decent thing that anyone else would do. They don't have to be making a fuss."

"It's about time you got recognition for something you've done, first off," Lily said, "And secondly, James, not everyone would throw themselves into the fray like that, pulling people from houses at their own peril. I know you think the world operates with the same level of honor as you do but it really doesn't. Most people would've said 'that's too bad' and stood back. You're the only one that ran into it and started making things right."

"Besides," James said, basically ignoring the whole of this speech from his wife, his face flushed even more than it had been, "They've got it all wrong. Saying there were no casualties. There were. There was that woman with the baby."

"Maybe you're remembering what happened there wrong?" Lily suggested. "Maybe it was this woman here that mentions you saved her son."

"No, that kid was older, and she doesn't look a single thing like you, Evans."

"I don't know, honey," Lily sighed, "You'll have to take it up with Underhill, I guess. He says here there were no casualties, though, and I don't reckon he would say that if there had been a casualty."

James looked upset just the same, and Lily kissed his face gently.

The door opened then and Dora Potter slipped into the room, pushing the door closed behind her. She turned to face the bed, her eyes wide and face pink. "You're awake!" she hurried over and kissed her son's face three times - once on each cheek and on the forehead - and smoothed his hair off his forehead. "How are you feeling this morning, Jamsey?"

"I'm alright," he answered. "I've been alright, though, to be honest."

She ran her hand along the line of his jaw, where there'd been bruises and cuts the day before, and inspected his temple, where the knock to the head had left its mark. "You look like you've healed up nicely."

"Brilliant," James said. half heartedly.

Dora handed him the jeans and shirt she'd brought for him, along with his Gryffindor trainers and fresh underthings. "I can't believe you've still got these old trainers," she commented as he took them. He smirked. "How many sizes have you extended them?"

"They're more than double their length now mum," James said. "I've had to repair them countless times."

"You ought to get a new pair," Dora said.

"Nah," James answered, looking them over, "Dad did these ones. I don't much fancy any other pairs." 

Lily smiled at the shoes. "He did?"

"Yeah, just before I started at Hogwarts." James grinned, his lip hung up on his tooth and he ran his fingers over the maroon and gold striped laces. "He comes up to my room couple nights before and he was feeling nostalgic, you know how Dad used to get, and he's pretending at being there to double check I had all my things and I was being a little toerag as I was back then, and I start complainin' about my shoes because the trainers were plain black. So he took them up and magicked them cool for me." 

"You were lucky you got trainers and not the traditional shoes to begin with," Dora said, rolling her eyes, "I couldn't believe him, turning them colors like that! It wasn't proper."

James's eyes sparkled. "Proper isn't fun."

Dora shook her head. "Go change, Jamsey, so we can get you home now."

"Yes mum." He slid out of the bed and plodded across the room to the loo, carrying his things and closing the door behind him.

Dora stared at the door for several long moments, making sure he wasn't popping back out, then she turned to Lily. "There's a reporter out in the corridor."

"A reporter?" Lily asked.

"From the Prophet," Dora nodded. "He's trying to get an interview with him after that article they've run this morning. He's very persistent."

Lily frowned, "Oh he won't like that."

"I didn't think so," Dora's voice was low.

Lily said, "I'm going to go get rid of him." She stood up and went to the door, slipping through into the hall. She wasn't out there a second before the reporter - a young man with pale complexion and dark blonde hair with piercing blue eyes - popped up before her. He held a muggle notebook and a muggle pen and wore black trousers with suspenders and a black oxford shirt, the sleeves rolled up. On his chest was badge declaring his name to be Declan Aletrick, a Junior Reporter for the Daily Prophet. 

"Hullo," he said quickly, his voice chipper, "Lily Potter, isn't it?"

"Yes I am," she answered, and she put her hands on her hips, winding up to tell him off.

"My name is Declan," he introduced himself, "I remember you from Hogwarts. I was a Ravenclaw. One year ahead of you and the Marauders. You probably don't remember me, I was pretty forgettable, really, but you helped me once when one of the Marauders tore my book bag as a prank in the corridor."

"Oh. I - I don't remember, no. I'm sorry, Declan," she stammered, taking off guard by this.

Declan smiled, "It's alright. Look, I've just got to get an interview with Potter for the Prophet. It's dead important I do, see, as this is my first big-time story I've been sent to report on and if I want to be keeping my job at the paper, I've jus got to get the story of the moment in to my editor or I'll be in a right state." He paused. "I know his mum said to shoo but - you've always been so kind. I just have a couple quick questions, nothin' long."

"He's really not feeling well, why don't you send us an owl and we'll talk about this another time?"

"I really am needing it today or I'll probably lose my job," he said.

"Well I'm sorry, but James isn't giving any interviews today," Lily said sniffily.

"Not even to an old friend?"

"But you're not an old friend, we've just established that."

Declan frowned. "I mean, you weren't always friends with him, just because we grew apart in later years --"

"I was always friends with him," Lily said defensively.

"Well what do you think about this whole business in Dunlewey? D'you reckon your husband is a hero?"

"Of course I do," Lily said.

Declan nodded and wrote something on his notepad. "Would YOU be interested in giving an interview? You must've been worried sick, hearing about the Ministry sending their aurors to defend against giants - the Gurg, at that - and knowing your courageous husband was setting off --"

"I didn't know what was going on actually, I was - preoccupied - at the time and -"

"You didn't know your husband was facing death? That he was going out to the very door step of death --"

"I was preoccupied."

"A shame..." Declan made a note.

"Don't note that down. I --"

Suddenly one of James's mediwitches came 'round the bend and with an angry look on her face, she drew her wand and snapped, "How many times have I got to shoo you off?" 

Declan Aletrick grinned. "Gotta go." And he ran off down the hallway, leaving Lily staring after him as the mediwitch cursed as he ducked through the door of the stairwell. 

"I do apologize, we're trying to keep them all away but he's a sneaky little bugger."