The hands on the clock are past twelve now.

Twenty, James thinks, looking at his sleeping wife. He is twenty and yet he feels as if he has been alive much longer. Too much has happened in so few years. It seems impossible that he is barely out of adolescence.

His eyes drift to her midsection which has become round with the presence of their child. He is twenty and he is going to be a father. He tries to wrap his head around the idea. Two years ago, James was lying in a dormitory, probably thinking up a prank or trying to sneak Lily out of his dorm before the boys noticed and took the mickey. He really had no idea what it was going to be like to be part of the war. There were a lot of things he discovered he was woefully ignorant about after leaving Hogwarts.

Twenty, he thinks again, twisting the gold band on his ring finger. If you had asked him at fifteen when he would be starting a family, he would have laughed. Marriage and children were the furthest things from his mind. He couldn't even get Lily to go out with him.

He grins, trailing a hand across her face. She leans her face into his hand, but does not wake. This is one thing that was a pleasant surprise. It was not at all hard to become her friend after he stopped acting like git around her. It was even simpler to fall harder in love with her and ask her to marry him after only being together for a year.

Being with Lily is easy for him. It's as easy as breathing, as effortless as opening his eyes. It is as important as breathing, too. The thought of her ever being gone makes his mouth go dry and his throat tighten painfully. His hand falters.

He wonders what his life will be like in a year. Will the war be over? What will he be doing if it is? What will his friends do? Will he have a daughter or a son? Privately, he hopes a son, because at least he knows how to deal with a boy. And if he had a daughter with Lily's eyes, he's not sure he'd ever be able to say no to her.

His eyes drift to the table at his bedside. Among the assorted pictures there, he sees one of his best friends. They are all twenty too. He is the youngest of them, if not by much. Part of him wonders about another life, a life without war or lycanthropy or blood prejudice. Would he have married Lily as quickly? Would they still be expecting a child, or would he be in a pub with his mates right then, having a laugh at their own stupidity?

It is a life he doesn't want, he decides. Not if it keeps him from where he is right now. Because in spite of losing friends to Dark wizards, the prejudice he must fight to stop and the fact he will probably drop his baby in the first week, he is happy. He is stupidly, uncontrollably happy to have a beautiful, stubborn wife and wonderfully moronic friends.

Twenty, he thinks, as Lily opens her eyes. He hopes it will be a good year.

"Happy birthday," Lily whispers, taking his hand.