Thirty five days.

Eight hundred and seventy five hours.

Fifty two thousand five hundred minutes.

Three million, one hundred fifty thousand seconds.

And he still was not home.

Lily Evans always considered herself a strong person. She watched as the ones closest to her pulled out of her life, whether it was by choice like her sister Petunia, or by force, like Benjy Fenwick- blown apart to pieces, and Mary MacDonald, her body too mangled to be recognized. The redhead stood at funeral after funeral, quiet processions that were only awarded tiny specks of recognition in dusty corners of the Prophet, where no one ever bothered to look.

But Lily always did. She felt that she at least owed that to her friends and fellow Order members- they had died in battle, and she would make sure that their memory was at least honored to the fullest extent that they could be, while the whole system was hiding out from the blood thirsty, Pureblood elitists.

Yet Lily Evans would not be lying if she admitted that her resolve was breaking.

What was left of the Order was gathered around the familiar oak table; the one that had seemed so exciting and full of possibilities-victories- that now seemed old and weary just like the rest of them. Two of the seats around the table, between Dedalus Diggle and Hestia Jones were blatantly empty, and the unfilled chairs seemed to scream into the room, their screeches weighing down heavily on everyone's hearts.

Moody, as usual, began the meeting.

"Let's keep this short and simple. Suspected Death Eater raid in a small town just outside of Ottery St. Catchpole. Potter, blonde Longbottom, Vance, and Pettigrew- pack lightly tonight. Just your wand and a few staples. Three day mission at the most. Get in and get out. Meeting dismissed."

The moment the name 'Potter' escaped the Auror's lips, Lily's green orbs snapped to meet James's hazel ones. He gave her a quick grin, as if to assure her that everything would be okay. The redhead fought the urge to snort- James always denied it to her, but Lily knew that it exhilarated him, playing hero. She always insisted that he had a hero complex, and he always shook his head at her before kissing the top of her head, responding, 'well, you did ask for a Prince Charming' before giving her a wink.

As everyone began filing out, the former Head Girl stood to the side, waiting for James to reach her. Closing the door shut behind them, she flinched away from his arms that were trying to reach out to her, choosing to go by the window and to stare at the frigid scenery instead. Not looking at James, Lily stood silent for a moment before uttering a barely audible 'don't go'.

She knew it was futile- but she had to ask anyway. They both knew that this was a dangerous mission, as Death Eater raids on Muggle towns became more and more vicious as the attacks progressed in number.

Simply shaking his head, James sighed before making his way behind Lily and snaking his arms around her waist, resting his chin on top of her fiery head. The two stood like that for a long time, in silence, both too wrapped up in their own thoughts.

Later, they had become a tangle of limbs in their bed, and when Lily woke up, he was gone.

She could still feel his kiss on her forehead.

Lily sat in the kitchen alone, drinking coffee. She was usually a tea person, yethe loved coffee. He would purposely wake her up in the morning with coffee breath, just so she would wrinkle her nose at him in the way that he likes, swatting him away. Thirty five days. He was supposed to be home thirty five days ago. Thirty five days ago, Frank Longbottom greeted Alice Fortescue with a seemingly never-ending kiss, one in which Lily had to look away in fear of her emotions getting to the better of her. Thirty five days ago, Emmeline Vance was greeted by her older brother in a bear hug, that also seemed to never end. Thirty five days ago, Mary MacDonald planted a kiss on good old Peter, claiming it was a congratulatory kiss, and hell, there was no time like the now. Thirty five days ago, Lily Evans was supposed to have someone next to her in bed. She was supposed to have someone to wake her up with coffee breath. She was supposed to have someone to call a 'git' and a 'ponce' without never actually meaning it. He was supposed to be home.

"Where is he?" Lily snarled, her eyes gleaming dangerously, her wand gripped tightly in her hand. Alice, Peter, and Emmeline simply looked at her with pity- bloody hell, how she hated their pity- and shook their heads. "We don't know, I'm sorry, Lily. It was chaotic, and the Portkey was leaving- we had to get out of there. We thought we saw James make it, but when we landed, he was gone."

She had gone mental on Wormtail. She had screamed and yelled every foul name under the sun at him, accusing him of being a rubbish best mate. How it was his fault that James was not home, how it was his bloody fault for not keeping better tabs on that infuriating git. That git that she missed with all of her being, that it hurt to even move a finger on her body. She had later apologized to Peter, and he had nodded and clapped her back in an understanding manner- I know, he had said. I know. Lily secretly thought it was rubbish, he couldn't possibly know, but she simply nodded, too tired to say anything.

On the fifteenth day after he was supposed to be home, her willpower slowly began to fade away. Slipping into an old Quidditch jersey of his that he slept with- that smelled solely of James, Lily sat. She did not eat, and she slept fitfully, never fully able to succumb to the dreams that called to her without a warm, familiar body next to hers. She was proud to say, however, that she never cried. Not once in those thirty five days, had she cried. Crying was a sign of giving up. It meant that she had stopped believing in him- so no matter how the weight of her worries threatened to slip down her face in a trail of tears, she held them back. Crying meant giving up.

"Get up, Lily."

Squinting her eyes shut as an unknown figure snapped open her curtains, the redhead groaned. Fucking Marlene McKinnon.

"Go away, McKinnon."

With that, Lily shut her eyes once more, burrowing her face into James's pillow. Aftershave, faint leather, and pine. James.

As the redhead almost instantly drifted back to sleep, she felt the sharp, biting cold air of the room come in contact with her skin. Almost yelling in surprise, she sat up- to have her best friend standing at the foot of her bed, with her hands on her hips.
"You can McKinnon me all you want, Evans, but there's no way in hell I'm letting you become pathetic like this. Get up."

The redhead fully drank in the sight of her sister in every way imaginable except in blood, and felt herself become weary. She admired Marlene for her strength- Lily considered herself a strong person, but Marlene was a different story. She was far sturdier than Lily could ever hope to be, and it was one of the reasons why she loved the brunette.

"Marly?"

The girl at the foot of her bed raised her eyebrows at Lily, as she hadn't called Marlene 'Marly' since their Third Year.

"Yeah, Lils?"

"Can you- do you think you can just- just hold me for one second?"

The brunette's piercing blue eyes softened before she sighed and made her way under the covers, next to Lily, cradling her in her arms.

"Fine, but we're only being pathetic for five minutes, okay?"

"Okay."

The two girls then proceeded to stay silent, simply finding comfort in each other's company. Both loved a certain James Potter in their own ways, and they sought solace in one another's despair- knowing that neither of them were alone. Five minutes later, as promised, Marlene kicked the covers off of both of them, staring Lily in the eye as she proclaimed that they were done being pathetic now, and that they were going to have some fun. The two then got smashed off of Firewhiskey like they have not done since Sixth Year, and held each other once more as they fell asleep- each glad that they somehow found sisters in their screwed up lives.

Lily sat on the floor of the living room, examining the necklace that usually fell between her collarbones. It was now intertwined around her fingers as she simply sat, trying her hardest not to feel anything. The silver necklace was made out of Pixiewood powder- James had given it to her the day they joined the Order and moved in together, making her the promise that he would come back for her. Any time that he was away on a mission, he would come back for her. It was his way of telling her that he would not die and to not worry, as Pixiewood symbolized forever.

The former Head Girl gave a loud snort. Feeling the overwhelming urge to scream, the redhead did just that. She screamed. Then proceeded to shout, "I hate you, James Potter, you lying bastard!" to the empty flat. All her energy spent on screaming at a man that was not there, Lily Evans failed to notice that the door had creaked open, and she was very much not alone in the flat anymore.

"Do you really hate me, Evans? Because that'd be a pity- I never thought the day would come when I was just some shag for you."

Lily froze. That voice. She knew that voice. That slight chuckle at the end, that presence- she lifted herself up to her feet, turning around agonizingly slowly. There stood James Potter, in the flesh, covered in cuts and bruises, dried up blood covering every inch of his body and his clothing stuck to his flesh. He was dirty, and his hair was even more mussed up than usual, but Lily did not care. Nothing mattered, oh nothing mattered because it had been thirty five days and six hours and forty two minutes but he was home. Lily did not know why she couldn't run to him, to cradle him in her arms and to kiss him senseless, but she could not move. Sensing that was the case, James gave her a tired grin before complaining, "What does a bloke have to do around here for a snog?" then made his way over to her, holding her face in his hands, running his thumb over her cheek. She then finally let it all out- the anguish, the worry, the fear, the torture. The redhead crushed her lips to his, running her fingers through his hair and clinging to him as if he were her lifeline, her sun, her oxygen.

In the back of her mind, she knew she should address his wounds and clean him up, but for now she could not think of anything else but the feel of his lips on hers and how it felt to be in his embrace. To be surrounded by him and his presence. Her tears wet both her cheeks and his, and to Lily's dismay she began blubbering as if she were four years old, trying to find her wand while she was crying to try and fix him up. She walked over to the coffee table, then to the kitchen, then back into the living room where James stood, before he gave a small chuckle and plucked the wand out of his old Quidditch jersey that she was sporting and placing it in her hand. As she fretted over him, casting several cleansing and healing charms, he simply smiled as he watched her, whispering to her sweet nothings and to hush, he was home now.

Finally seeing that James was patched up, Lily threw herself into his arms, her sobs finally subsiding. She had missed his familiar chest, the feel of his arms around her frame, his voice-James. Looking up at him, the redhead met James's gaze and held it for a long moment before stating a quiet 'I love you.'

James Potter simply gave Lily a tired smile before placing a kiss on the top of her head, pulling her close. Despite all his fatigue and healing wounds, he carried her up the stairs to their bedroom, bridal style, where the two of them finally fell asleep together, her body cradled in his- departing each other's company briefly due to the lull of sleep, only to meet again in the depths of their dreams.