The first thing they do is buy a house. An old cottage made of wood that smells of summers spent at the lake, where the air tastes like second chances.

They just needed to get away, that's what she tells herself as she stands staring out at the waves, watching the tide. In and out, in and out, reminding herself to breathe along with it.

They'd talked about it before, in the middle of the night, when the nightmares were too much, and neither of them thought they would make it out of this alive. On the days where they couldn't do anything, couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't even dream because they weren't dead but someone else was. They weren't dead but a partof them wished they were. They would whisper about a beachside cabin, about sunny days that bled into star-filled nights. About kisses in the sand, and teaching Harry how to swim.

It had only ever been a dream. Until that fateful November first rolled around. And Frank and Alice were dead and they were not, and people were singing in the streets, but Lily was crying for her friend and for herself because she never thought she would see anything again but those four walls.

When James suggests it, suggests they find that cabin and just go, she can't think of any reason to say no. She kisses him like her life depends on it, kisses him like he's the only thing keeping her upright. He whispers into her mouth, cracked words that burn her tongue, and lick down her throat. We made it. His tears mingle with hers, and she kisses him harder.

That night, all she can think about is how, yes, they made it, but someone else didn't. Somewhere Neville Longbottom sleeps, unaware that he will never see his parents again. Unaware that he has been deemed "The Chosen One." She thinks about the sleeping boy in the other room, who is her everything, and how that had almost been him.

The cottage they buy is tiny, much smaller than their house in Godric's Hollow. But the walls are painted yellow and the outside is bright red, and James thought it was a sign. It has a huge porch overlooking the water, where Lily finds herself spending most of her time.

That's where she is now, contemplating the waves. James comes out and joins her, Harry on his hip. He wraps his free arm around her, and she leans her head on his shoulder, reaching over to tousle Harry's hair.

"What are you thinking about, love?" James whispers into her hair.

"Nothing. Everything," Lily sighs, wrapping her arms around her family. She can't stop thinking about this war that is supposed to be over. How, despite that, she still jumps at every creek in the floorboards, how she almost punched James the other day when he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. How James still wakes up in the middle of the night, coated in sweat, breathing hard. How she has to convince him that they're alive and they're okay and we made it, James, even when she doesn't believe it herself.

"I know the feeling," James replies. They stand there for a while in silence, until Harry gurgles something that sounds like "beach". So they walk down to the sand. Harry loves the sand, likes to squish it in his tiny fists, as if he can press all the little grains into one thing. They throw sand in the water, screaming at the top of their lungs, Harry mimicking them.

They scream for everything they once were, for everything they once dreamed they would be. They scream for everyone they have lost. For Marlene and Dorcas and Fabian and Gideon and Alice and Frank, for eighteen-year-old Lily Evans and James Potter who believed they were infinite.

They scream until their throats are raw and the sky has turned dark around them.

They go back inside and make dinner, and when they put Harry to bed they find sand in his ear, and Lily laughs for the first time in months. The sound is a little scratched, high-pitched and it goes on until no more sound comes out and Lily can feel her heart beating in her cheeks. The classic Lily laugh. It is the best thing James has ever heard.

They start to make their little house feel more like a home. They fill the place with whatever furniture they can find, old stuffed chairs with flowered upholstery, and worn wooden coffee tables covered in mug stains. They tack up Harry's drawings on every available wall space, framing the one he drew of their family. They paint Harry's room bright crimson, and James enchants the little snitch he paints to zoom around the walls, always just out of reach.

There are days in this little haven that are filled with laughter and love, and Lily thinks they just might be okay. These are the days when she wakes up smiling, when James kisses her first thing in the morning because he can. When they make cookies with Harry and James ends up eating half of the dough, and Harry gets the other half in his hair. When they lie on the porch in the middle of the night, just staring at the stars.

These are the days she lives for. These are the days that feel like magic.

It is on one of these days that they get the call.

Sirius is the only one who has their number, the only one who really knows where they are. They got the all clear from Dumbledore before they left, but they were gone quickly, leaving before more chaos could begin.

This isn't the first time Sirius has called, but something about it seems different. It's only 2 in the afternoon; usually he doesn't call till late.

Lily picks up the phone.

"Sirius?" Her voice shakes a little. She wishes it didn't.

"Lily. The spy-the spy wasn't Remus, it was Peter," Sirius' words come out in a tumble, falling on top of each other, crashing to the ground.

Lily almost drops the phone.

"What? What is it?" James asks, rushing towards her, Harry still sitting in his highchair in the kitchen, staring at his parents with curious eyes.

Lily just hands him the phone. There's no way-no way that Peter, their friend. No way that he-he-

James actually drops the phone. Lily scrambles to pick it up.

James just stands there, his hands shaking even as he curls them into fists, all of the blood in his face receding. He's breathing hard, biting his lip to stop it from quivering, to stop the scream that is etching it's way up his throat. Lily is reminded in that moment of how young he is, how young they both are. Too young to have fought a war. Too young to still feel like they're fighting one.

Lily whispers to Sirius on the phone, her voice almost desperate, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes.

"How?"

"I don't know. He's been with them all along it seems."

"I don't understand, how did you find out?"

"Emmeline saw him today. She was tracking my dear cousin Bellatrix, and she led her right to him. She managed to hit Bellatrix with a stunning spell from behind, but Peter saw her, and she says he just disappeared."

"He shifted."

There's a pause. It is affirmation enough. She can hear Sirius sigh; hear him choke down a sob.

"Sirius, just come over as soon as you can, okay?" She tries to sounds reassuring. She doesn't believe herself. But she'll be damned if she breaks down too, not right now. Not when she has a child and dead friends and a friend who may as well be dead too. "We shouldn't do this over the phone."

"Yeah, okay," his voice is almost unrecognizable. "I'll see you soon."

The line goes dead and she puts the phone down, and rushes over to her husband. His fist is in front of his mouth, and his whole body is shaking. His eyes look terrified, his face pale as death. He looks completely and utterly lost.

She holds him, whispers words into his ear that mean nothing while he shakes with fear and hatred and love and betrayal. She only leaves him to put Harry down for his nap, and then she's right back at his side. Only now there are tears that grace his cheeks, looking like jagged cracks down his skin, breaking him open and spilling out his insides, squeezing a hand around his lungs. Lily swears she can feel it too.

She wraps her arms around him, as he cries silent sobs, murmuring about his friend, about his brother. She doesn't say anything. Doesn't know what she could say. Doesn't think there are any words in any language that would help. So she just squeezes him harder, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. It's a silent promise. A promise that is not enough, but it is all she has to give.

I'm here.

Sirius shows up around 4:00, just as Harry is waking up from his nap. He and James go outside and sit on the porch, as Lily feeds Harry. They sit out there for hours, talking, not talking, screaming to the winds, Lily isn't sure. She can hear the crashing of the waves, can smell the salt in the air, but she can't hear her husband or his best friend, she doesn't know what's happening. She's afraid to go out there, afraid that witnessing that pain will make it all too real, that the pain will creep inside her skin and stay there, awakening her own.

Eventually she puts Harry to bed. He looks confused, he doesn't understand why his dad isn't here, why he's not laughing at Lily's bedtime stories or telling his own.

"It's okay," she whispers to him. To herself. "He'll be fine. We'll be fine."

When Harry falls asleep, Lily take a deep breath, and goes out and joins them.

When Lily sits down next to James, the air is quiet, but it crackles and shifts with unspoken words. She doesn't say anything, just wraps her arm around James, hoping that it will be enough.

The sky gets darker around them. She holds them both, both of her boys. Listening to their mumbled stories, and ignoring their silent tears. She bites her lip, trying to contain her own silent sadness. She doesn't know where Remus is, but she's not sure she should ask. The stars emerge eventually, but they don't seem as bright as usual.

Sometime later, they go inside. Lily finds it hard to breathe, all the choked up words and swallowed sobs clogging her throat. James grabs her hand, and she squeezes it, hoping to keep him here, keep him grounded. Hoping he will keep her grounded as well.

Sirius crashes on their couch. Lily and James go to bed, but they don't say anything. Not until the middle of the night when Lily can't sleep and she's finally letting herself cry and oh god, oh god, oh god, it can't be true, it can't be him, how did this happen, how did we get here, how did we ever think we could change the world?

James rolls over, pulls her close to him, kissing the dip between her shoulder and her neck. "It's okay," he whispers, but she knows it's not. "We're okay."

Lily lets herself cry, lets herself nod into the crook of his neck as James assures her, pulls him closer when she feels his tears on her skin. She keeps thinking the same thing, and she almost laughs out loud.

So this is what it's like to win a war.

The next day is not one of the good ones. It's one of the ones that starts with scalding hot coffee, with the squeezing of hands under the table, and dark circles under the eyes. When Harry looks at them with confusion, and then begins to cry. It is a day of minimal words, of shaking hands and watery eyes.

The house is too quiet. Lily wants to scream.

But the day after that is better. And so is the next. And the one after that. They are not whole, they haven't been for a while, but their working on it. Eventually someone contacts Remus. This is the first time he has seen Lily and James in over a year. The first time he has ever met Harry.

That day was a good one. Yes, there were tears, but there was also talking and laughing and the fluttery feeling in your stomach of hugging someone you haven't seen in forever.

The days get better. James, Sirius and Remus want to go after Peter, but Lily refuses. They're too close to the situation. She and Emmeline go instead. It doesn't take them that long. The order had already been tracking him, and they are determined. Determined to get justice for every order member he betrayed, for all the tears he does not deserve, for the friendship she thought she had.

They find him in Godric's Hollow. He had been there looking for James and Lily, at least that's what the order says later. The chased him down an alley, forcing him to shift back into human form. He begged. Begged for mercy, for forgiveness, for a friendship that was shattered in pieces on the floor.

He came rushing at Lily, ran his fingers down her face as she pushed him away. She could feel the blood on the surface of her skin, but she does not wipe it away. Let it remind him what this war was about. What he betrayed them for. Her nasty, dirty blood.

"You coward!" She yells at him, flinging curses his way. "You absolute fucking coward!"

She thinks she hears him whisper right before she knocks him out.

I know.

She comes home a day later, a cut on her cheek and sorrow in her eyes. James wraps his arms around her, and she finally feels like she can breathe.

They learn to live. Lily stops jumping at every noise and James begins to sleep through the night again. They try to move on. They try to forget.

The days improve. They laugh over breakfast and dance with Harry around the kitchen. They have kisses in the sand and on the couch. They hold hands under the table and sing songs late into the night.

They learn to live.

They are the children of the war. They are made of glass and promises and hearts full of love and other breakable things. There are cracks in their surface, but they're working on it. They are putting themselves back together, one piece at a time. They'll find a place for themselves, they'll figure out who they are. And maybe this, this little cabin that is in tune to the waves and filled with air that tastes like second chances, is a good place to start looking.

The first thing they do is find a home.