A/N: And we've reached the end, hurrah! I hope it lived up to your expectations. I wanted to take my last chance to say thanks to all my readers, particularly those of you who reviewed (and really especially those who reviewed consistently - you guys are the best)! A special thank you to Stefanie for being my beta, cheerleader, and sounding board. :)

It's been such a fun journey between writing, posting, and talking to people about this story. Writers have fun creating, but sharing your work with other people is pretty much the best thing ever - thanks for going through this experience with me! I can't properly express my appreciation for all the kind words I've received from people, so one last time, THANK YOU!

Epilogue

"Hello. Vernon, is it?"

"Yes," said the whale at the door. The Dursleys owned a small cottage near the edge of the village with impeccably clean windows. "Who's asking?"

"Good day to you, sir." James offered his hand, but Vernon just stared at it with his piggy eyes, and James eventually let his hand drop. "I'm Prince James George Potter and I thought you should know that I'm going to be marrying your sister-in-law."

Never before had James savored revealing his title so much as in that moment, when a dull shade of purple crept up along Vernon's face.

"Now, see here," Vernon said, "I don't know who you are, thinking you can impersonate the prince—"

"Oh, I assure you, this is no impersonation. If you will, here is my ring—" James raised his hand, enclosed around a tightly-bound scroll, so Vernon could ogle the unmistakable ruby ring on James' finger, "—and here is a royal order relevant to your business interests."

"That's—you're not—Lily Evans?" Vernon spluttered.

A blonde stick of a woman joined Vernon at the door. "What's this about Lily?" Petunia asked, eyes darting between James and her husband. "What's she done now?"

"Nothing untoward," James assured her. "In fact, she's consented to marry me, which I suppose you could construe as a huge mistake, but naturally I am not of that opinion. Not after all the work it took to get her to agree, I can tell you that much. I'm Prince James George Potter, by the way, although I'm actually here about The Three Broomsticks."

Petunia's eyes narrowed. "You are not—"

Vernon's face snapped toward his wife. "Hush, Petunia!" He gave James a simpering smile. "Your Royal Highness, please, we beg of you to please enter our humble home."

"No time for that, I'm afraid," James said, reveling in the look of shock and disbelief on Petunia's horselike face. It would have been polite to enter, if only to let them shut the door and keep the fire's warmth from escaping, but the Dursleys mattered little to him. "I'm only here for a quick transaction. Here's your compensation." He pulled out a hefty sack of coins from his cloak pocket and offered both it and the scroll to Vernon. "And I'll be taking the deed to the pub, if you would be so kind as to fetch it for me."

They stared wide-eyed at James.

"Yes, of course," James added. "The scroll outlines the royal order instructing you to sell me the pub. Today. Right now, in fact. I'm prepared to offer a proper sum for it and everything. Well, I say offer, but really it's a charitable donation, if anything, since I am legally entitled to take whatever I please."

It took them a few attempts to understand, but eventually James walked away with the deed to The Three Broomsticks in hand, leaving a dumbfounded and outraged pair of Dursleys behind him. As he rounded the corner at the end of the street, he stopped and grinned.

"Was that everything you hoped it would be?" he asked.

"Everything I wanted and more," said an invisible Lily. She pulled down the Cloak's hood and beamed at him. "That was absolutely marvelous."

"I'm torn because I want to invite them to the wedding, if only for the novelty of seeing them watch you marry me. But on the other hand, I suspect they might make off with the silver. And my mother always loved that silver, more than was healthy for a human-utensil relationship."

"I have to invite them," Lily sighed. "She's my sister. We'll just sic Terry on them the whole time to keep them in line."

"You cruel minx, have I mentioned that I adore you?"

"Once or twice." She drew off the Cloak and folded it over one arm. "Not nearly enough, I'm sure."

He moved closer to her, and she took a step back, grinning, daring him to come closer. Her back hit the building behind her, and her smile grew coy.

He leaned forward to rest one palm on the wall next to her ear, his eyes fixed on hers, and then he kissed her, slowly and thoroughly. They'd shared plenty of kisses since the engagement ball, but he still delighted in each one, savoring the way they knocked every other important thought out of his head.

Merlin, he'd never had anything as marvelous as this, just being able to kiss the woman he loved whenever the mood struck. And she never held back either, always responding warmly, inviting him to keep going.

But after a minute he pulled back and cocked his head. "Did you want to invite Snape to the wedding, too? I mean, obviously Mary will have to come, and I suppose Evan and Edwin, too, but I didn't know what you wanted to do about Snape."

"You know," she said, cheeks a little flushed, "mentioning other men while snogging a lady isn't good for your reputation."

"Who needs a reputation?" He tilted a slow grin at her, their faces close enough that the fog from their breath intermingled. "I've already got the only girl worth having."

She playfully shoved his chest with one hand. "You don't have me."

"No. Not yet, technically, but as far as I care, you are mine."

"Well, fine," she said, going even pinker. "I can be yours so long as you're mine, too."

"No question. I am, unequivocally, all yours."

She dropped her gaze and her smile. "But whether to invite Sev…I'm not sure. On the one hand, he never—we never got around to making amends, after our last fight."

James took a small step backwards. "But…."

"He is—was—my best friend. But I think me marrying you—I don't think he'll ever forgive me for that."

James reached out and clasped her gloved hand. "You don't have to decide right now, only I did wonder, and I thought—"

"That's what was going through your head while we snogged?"

"Merlin, no. I just remembered I'd wanted to ask and didn't want to forget again."

"You lunatic."

"Your lunatic."

"Admittedly and proudly so." She went up on her toes to peck him on the cheek. "Come on, let's give Mary the deed already. She's been dying to tell you she told you so."

He linked his arm through hers and set off for the pub. "I'm never one to disappoint."

"You just broke off mid-snog to discuss Severus Snape," Lily pointed out. "Don't talk to me about disappointment…."

James let out a loud wolf whistle.

Lily spun around from the window, the bottom of her dress twirling around her.

James didn't know much about dresses, but he felt confident concluding that Lily was the most beautiful bride he'd ever seen, and he'd been to more than his fair share of weddings. It gleamed white like sea shells in the afternoon sun, with a full skirt and long sleeves. On someone less elegant it might have looked stuffy, but it suited Lily somehow. It was a queen's wedding dress.

"It's bad luck to see me," she admonished, but she smiled.

He leaned against the doorway to her dressing chambers. "It can't negate the great luck I had in meeting you."

"There's no need to woo me, you know. Not at this stage. It's practically a done deal."

"Do you mind if I do anyway?"

"Not really."

"Then I'll carry on."

She sat on the edge of the vanity, adjusting one of the flowers in her hair. "I'm surprised you didn't bring Algernon."

"I was afraid he'd tear your dress," James admitted. "Remus is keeping him company in my dressing chambers."

"Actually, I'm glad you came by," she said slyly.

"Can't last five minutes without me, can you?"

"Can't make it two, as a matter of fact, but I was making do today. No, I was going to suggest something for the reception, but since you're here now..."

She rummaged through a drawer in the vanity, and turned around clutching—

"My hat!" James said, his throat tightening.

Lily strolled over to him. "You see, I know you hate your wedding hat."

"Oh, I do loathe it," James said earnestly. "I do."

"And I was thinking..." She waved his hat enticingly in front of him.

He beamed. "Would you do the honors?"

She snatched off his floppy wedding hat and let it drop to the ground in an ignominious heap. James bent down a little and she obliged him by tugging on his mother's hat.

James stood up straight and glanced in the mirror behind her. Objectively he knew he looked absurd, but he didn't care. If his mother couldn't attend his wedding, this would have to do.

"Now you look much more dashing," Lily said.

She reached up and adjusted the hat, and James grabbed her hand when she started lowering it, pulling her close until she was flush against him.

He smirked at her. "Not nearly as dashing as you, Prince Charming."

"Mmm, call me that again."

"Prince Charming," he murmured.

"Such sweet words." She ran a hand up his chest, fingering his collar. "Do we have time?"

James sent a locking spell at the door. "They can't start without us."

"Good enough for me," she said, leaning up on her toes for a kiss.

"And do you, James George Potter, take Lily Catherine Evans to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death you do part?"

"I do."

"The rings, please."

Algernon came trotting up the aisle, a smart bowtie around his neck and a ribbon clutched in his teeth, rings hanging down on either side….

"Ham? Ham?" James gave his cat a pitiful look. "Algernon, I won't tolerate this level of betrayal any longer."

Algernon had the temerity to preen.

"He's angry with you, of course."

James looked up from his sandwich to see Lily leaning against the doorframe to his study.

"And why's that?" he asked, mouth slanting into a grin.

"Because you kicked him out of the room last night." She pushed off the doorframe with her hip and sauntered over to stand in front of his desk.

"Well, I mean, I suppose if you're willing—no, no, not even then will I let Algernon watch," James said solemnly. "You will have to make do with me and me alone. I'd apologize, but you seemed to have no complaints. At least, not last night. If you do have one now, I'm afraid the process for filing a complaint takes at least six months. Paperwork backup, you see. Terrible shortage of good staff up in these mountainous parts."

She laughed, her head tilting back and her long hair swishing along her back. She came around to James' side of the desk and perched on the edge of it.

"I love when you talk dirty to me," she said dryly.

He grabbed her arm and tugged her toward to him, until she sat sideways on his lap, one of her arms looped around his neck.

Without instruction, one of his hands reached up and brushed a few hairs out of her face, his eyes locked on hers. She smelled wonderful—not like any particular scent, just her—and she was warm and there and marvelous. He'd learned, in the month since their wedding, every detail of her, and while they were all worthy of praise, above all he loved her mouth, probably. The way the corners were always a little curled up, always on the verge of breaking into a smile, ready to share in a good joke.

And James was happy to provide.

"Oh, if it's dirty talk you want," he said, "I've spent plenty of time with the guards over the years. 'There once was a man from Northampton—'"

She didn't interrupt, but James stopped anyway. There was something in the way she was looking at him, a fond, serious expression that he'd seen her wear before, but not like this. Not with this…intensity.

"What?" he asked.

"I love you," she said.

"Oh, that. 'Whose prick was so—'"

"James."

"Are you sure you don't want to hear the end of it? It's a really good one."

"James," she said, this time annoyed.

"Well, I don't know what you want from me," he said simply. "Did or did I not already dramatically announce my feelings?"

"Some level of acknowledgement is customary, I believe."

"You didn't feel acknowledged last night?"

"You come up with the most bizarre euphemisms."

"I'll acknowledge you again tonight so long as you take responsibility for kicking Algernon out of the room."

"And have him refuse to bring me bacon sandwiches?"

He waggled his eyebrows. "I'll make it worth your while."

"Then it's a deal," she said, laughing.

"And, Lily," James said, his voice dropping a pitch, "thank you for telling me."

She arched an eyebrow at him.

He shrugged. "How could I not know? Not with the way you acknowledged me all night long."

"James."

He loved all the ways she could say his name, particularly the way she'd shouted it the night before. This latest iteration, verging on exasperation, suited him fine, too.

"And, well, you know, everything else you do," he said. "I…I know how you feel. I do, really, although I love hearing it, too. Don't mistake my jesting for me not wanting to hear it. In fact, you could tell me every day, and it'd only make me want to acknowledge you all the more."

"I'd ask you to stop ruining the word acknowledge but I've heard your other euphemisms."

"If you wanted to say I love you again, right now for instance, I wouldn't object. Not at all. Because you know I love you."

"Oh, now you want me to say it."

"I always want you to say it," he said. "But I'll always know regardless…."

James shoved a hand through his hair. "What is he waiting for?"

"The death of you and your father, I should think," Dumbledore said.

James stopped pacing around his study and sank into his desk chair. "But why?"

"Turmoil?" Lily suggested. She sat in her preferred location, on the edge of his desk, one leg crossed over the other. "Peter would never be as popular as you. Slytherin has only taken your mother, who didn't have any real power. The throne is still solidly with the Potters."

"But he could just attack now and try to take it."

"And our troops would be ready," Lily said. "We haven't had such heavy defenses along the border in decades."

"Maybe he'll take to the sea, come around to Newcastle? Maybe he wants our troops along the border. Maybe he's made a pact with Ravenclaw, for all we know."

"I highly doubt it." Dumbledore sipped his tea in the seat across from James. "Although Voldemort has entrusted very few with his stratagems, our reconnaissance forces have heard little to lead us to suspect either Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw has betrayed us."

James slumped in his seat. "I hate waiting."

"There is, of course, another matter that requires investigation."

"I know," James said sourly. "But it can't be any of them. I looked into it and they all pan out. We've no reason to believe it was any of them. There must be someone else."

"Simple process of elimination suggests it must be one of these five."

"Let's go steal the pub back from Mary," James told Lily. "That sounds easier, and more fun."

"It must be one of them," she said gently. "Be reasonable."

"Well, it's not them, okay? Maybe I should ask my mates what they think. Peter knows some of the guards I don't. He might have a better ear to the ground."

Dumbledore gave James a sympathetic look. "Considering the fact that your friends also fit the criteria for appearing on the list—I'm aware of your objections to their inclusion, and I agree it is exceptionally unlikely that one of them is the guilty party—I must insist that this discussion does not broaden beyond the present parties."

"But they're my mates."

Lily was not as forgiving as Dumbledore. "James, you're being ridiculous. Why won't you even consider these five people?" She looked back and forth between James and Dumbledore. "There's something you're not telling me."

Dumbledore betrayed nothing, as James expected him to. Sadly James didn't have an equal amount of skill in hiding his reactions.

"What?" Lily demanded.

James hadn't liked keeping it from her, but he hated upsetting her, and he felt they'd quarreled over him enough.

"You're not going to like it," James said slowly.

"Tell me anyway."

James glanced at Dumbledore and mentally braced himself. "I think Snape found the tunnels and told Slytherin about them."

Lily's eyes didn't move from James' face while she considered this.

"What's he ever done to you?" she asked, her voice curt.

"I'm just saying, that's my working theory."

"Why would he even do that?"

James held his tongue, but Lily didn't speak either, only folding her arms over her chest.

"I don't have proof, obviously," James said, "so I didn't want to tell you."

And still she didn't answer, only now she'd stopped looking at James, instead gazing out to the starry sky behind him.

"He could have followed me one night," she said, so quietly James almost didn't hear. "He knew we were meeting."

James nodded carefully. "Or he could have followed me. Or any of my mates."

"He knows who you are."

"He does."

"He hates you."

"I'm well aware."

She bit her lip. "I haven't heard from him in months. Not since about the time we got engaged."

"Not at all?"

She met his eyes again and he hated that he played any part in putting that betrayed look on her face.

"Mary said he's left town," she said. "No one knows where he is…."

"Thank you, Professor McGonagall," James said, stepping up onto the platform. "It is my great honor to announce the first school of witchcraft and wizardry open to the general public."

The small crowd applauded where they stood fanned out around him. A fair number of witches and wizards had turned out onto the lawn in front of the main entrance to Hogwarts. The castle looked magnificently regal in the summer sun, its windows sparkling.

"We've been loath to admit it for centuries, but not all wizards and witches are of noble blood. These witches and wizards grow up fearing their own magic, and I find that personally reprehensible. Therefore, my new wife Lily and I are proud to open Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where all magical children can learn from some of the finest scholars of our time.

"This device," James said, holding up a thick, empty book, "will locate every magical child and invite them to study here, regardless of their birth. Scholarships will be available for those unable to afford tuition."

The Search Charm they'd developed had never found a Slytherin spy, and James still didn't know why that was the case, but the Wollstonecraft adjustment had worked for something after all.

"Hopefully future princes can find the loves of their lives at school instead of in pubs." He spared a quick glance at Lily and smiled. "I now turn things over to my magical anomaly, Lily Potter, who would like to explain some of the courses children will have the chance to attend…."

"And one day you'll get to grow up and take over for me," James murmured, "and I'm going to make sure you're so much better prepared than I ever was. Mummy will help with that, too, of course. She knows loads more than either of us combined. But I'll teach you Quidditch. She thinks it's silly but it's brilliant and I'll let you play all the time, and—"

"What are you telling him?"

James looked up from his son's beautiful, wrinkly face at Lily. She lay in their bed, her hair still plastered to her forehead, eyelids barely open. She smiled weakly at him.

"Only how amazing his mother is," James said softly. "He's just fallen asleep."

She yawned and pushed herself up onto her elbows. "Make sure you tell Harry how amazing his father is, while you're at it."

"He doesn't need to hear about that. My story's boring. Yours is the interesting one. From barmaid to queen. Now that's a good bedtime story."

"But it wouldn't have happened without you," she reminded him. "I'll make sure he hears both sides…."

James was glad it was raining the day of his father's funeral. It seemed appropriate, somehow.

Lily's hand didn't let go of his once, except when he got up to speak, and her hand found his again as soon as he finished.

He wished he could hold Harry right then and there, and promise him that his father would always be there for him, just like his grandfather had been. But Harry was safe, kept away from the bastards who'd somehow managed to take both of James' parents.

After they lowered the coffin into the grave, James lingered while most of the crowd dispersed, Lily's hand still gripping his.

Dumbledore approached them and nodded at James. "While we've a moment alone," he said, "I thought you should like to know that Moony reports good news from his position."

"Glad to hear it," James said around the lump in his throat. He wished Remus could have made the funeral, but he was too entrenched in reconnaissance to leave abruptly.

"And those in the Burrow report success on their efforts as well."

"This isn't the best time for news of the old crowd," Lily said, a little anguished. "We can discuss tactics later, any other day. Can't all this wait?"

"I'm afraid not," Dumbledore said, and James felt his stomach drop when he saw how distraught Dumbledore looked. "It is of the utmost importance that we act immediately. I have unfortunate news to deliver to the two of you, and the two of you alone. It concerns young Harry."

James had thought he'd felt his absolute worst when his mother died, and then again when he'd lost his father on top of it, but those moments of agony held nothing against the tide of terror that swept over him at even the mention of his son in danger.

Dumbledore spoke low and quickly. "I was fortunate enough to receive a prophecy directly from the source…."

Lily stood in front of the fire in the nursery, her back to the room, her shoulders tense. "Severus couldn't have caused George's death."

"No." James ruffled his hair dejectedly and sank lower into the armchair. "I know."

"There must be someone else."

"I'm aware."

Lily folded her arms and turned to James, looking half broken. "We can't risk Harry."

"You don't have a choice," Sirius said quietly, Harry sleeping soundly in his arms. "It's not the most heroic option, but this is your son, James."

James squeezed his eyes shut. "I can't abandon my people."

"You're not," Sirius assured him. "You're protecting the future king. You can still lead from seclusion."

"It'll only be until we can figure out who the spy is," Lily said. "We can't let them get Harry."

James let out a slow, deep breath. "For a bit," he conceded. "Only to give ourselves more time. And only if you're Secret Keeper, Sirius."

A sly grin broke across Sirius' face. "They'll be expecting that. I've got a better idea..."

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off—"