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A week passed and James woke up as usual in his bed at Hogwarts. He blinked a few times and turned his head slightly to look at his dozing lover. It was rare for him to be the first awake or that Severus didn't stir when he did. Years of a strict routine had caused him to be jumpy even within the safety of the school although James thought this was gradually changing and would have liked to call responsibility for it. In sleep, the stern face was softer, the strain gone from it. Pressing a soft kiss to his head, he slid out of bed and padded through to the bathroom next door.

He showered quickly and thoroughly, dried himself and started to shave in front of the mirror to shave. He could have dealt with it with a wave of his wand but both Seamus and Dean had shaved manually on occasion from their fourth year onwards and he found it somewhat relaxing. Absently, he paused to cast a neatening and drying spell on his hair - if he didn't it would dry tangled and frizzy.

He smiled as the door opened behind him, welcoming as he looked for Severus in the mirror. Severus smiled easily back. Suddenly he froze and an unreadable mask went over his face. James frowned and turned to ask what the matter was when his lover spun and strode out, whole body shouting anger and hurt. A moment later, a door slammed loudly, the only outlet the harshly controlled man was likely to allow himself.

About to go after him, James glanced in the mirror to see if there was anything obvious that could have caused such a reaction.

He saw it immediately, glaring at him, adverse affects continuing to haunt his life.

His scar, red and obvious against pale skin and quite obviously something Severus would not have been expecting to see.

James' eyes followed the route Severus must have taken as he left, through this door into the main room and through the connecting door, which now appeared to have vanished. There was no way Severus would allow him to explain now, not after that, so he finished shaving mechanically, returned to his bedroom, leaving a note for Albus on the table for a house elf to collect.

Once there he buried himself under the heavy blankets, tears pouring silently down his cheeks, and hugged Severus' still warm pillow to him for comfort, breathing in the lingering scent.

What the hell was he going to do now?



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Albus Dumbledore knew something was wrong at eight o'clock the following morning when Severus Snape, Potions Master, Head of Slytherin House, stormed into the Great Hall for breakfast with a glare that any self-respecting basilisk would envy and a face like an angry thunderbolt. As students backed away, he contemplated for a moment the more delicate constitution that this generation had - James' bunch wouldn't have thought twice about their teacher acting like this, certainly not by their NEWT years. Of course at that point they were certainly more worried about having a Dark Lord out for their blood than their school teacher being in a bad mood.

The question was, what had happened? James was the only thing he could think of that would cause such an extreme reaction, the idea being confirmed when he didn't show up himself, but what exactly was wrong? He watched poor Minerva innocently greet Severus amiably and be faced with the legendary 'death glare'. She turned away, put her chin in the air and pointedly ignored him as she talked to Pomona. Sinistra, on his other side, made a prudent choice not to venture a comment. Albus decided it might be a good idea to leave him alone until he had a better idea of the matter in hand.

After a rather tense breakfast, Albus retired to the safety of his office and sent a house elf down to check on James for him. It was back in minutes.

"Headmaster sir, the Professor has magicked his bedroom so Bubby couldn't get in but Bubby found a note for Headmaster Dumbledore sir."

"Thank you," Albus said, absently taking the note. It was blunt and to the point, infuriatingly so.

Albus, I can't teach today, possibly for a while. My apologies. He found out. James

Albus looked at it and sighed. The poor boy always had gone for extreme emotions whenever something happened. So Severus had discovered the child's identity, presumably by accident, and had reacted badly. Both of his boys were now so tied up in each other it was hard to think about this subjectively, being fair to both of them.

What would have happened? It was morning - they were fine certainly the previous night when he had called by their quarters for a drink. So, if he ventured a guess that it had just happened. Perhaps Severus had caught James in the shower and got a clear view of his forehead, perhaps James had merely been careless and forgotten to reapply his make up. Whatever happened, it would certainly have been the scar to give him away - he was too careful to make another mistake.

An hour's contemplation brought him to the conclusion that Severus would have to be forced to listen to reason and James would have to be gently brought back to an even keel again before he did something drastic like disappearing again. He had lost too much of his life already without losing him for a second time yet he wasn't close enough to him any more to really feel easy as mentor and comforter.

Albus tossed a handful of Floo powder into his fireplace and awkwardly knelt down to put his head into the green flames.

"Head of Merlin House's Quarters, Griffin University!" he shouted. It was strange how your habits stayed with you. After years of being told to 'say it clearly' and 'shout if you need to, dear' he still used a loud voice.

There was a peculiar sucking feeling and Albus found himself looking out into his brother's study.

"Abe!" he called imperiously. Of course his brother would come to him, he never called without reason.

Sure enough, a moment later, Abe himself rushed into the room, Claudius trailing along behind.

"Albus!" he said, sounding pleased. "What can I do for you?"

"Get over here immediately. We have big problems with The Project."

"Move your big head from the fire then."

"And leave the damn goat behind," Albus said as a parting shot before he moved back away from the fire.

"What exactly is the problem?" Abe asked, brushing down his robes and taking a seat in Albus' favourite chair.

"Severus found out."

"Found out what?"

"Who James is . . . was."

"Oh dear."

"My sentiment exactly."

"What happened?"

"I'm not sure exactly but it happened between ten last night and breakfast this morning. Severus turned up looking like he did ten years ago but in an even worse mood and James has locked himself in his bedroom and I know for a fact that Severus helped him ward them against my painting a couple of weeks ago so I can't check on him."

"Doesn't he have classes this morning?"

"I was given a note saying that he was unable to teach today, perhaps for a while. Here, read it yourself."

"This really is serious, he's normally so conscientious, poor child. What do you want me to do?"

"First, we're going to hack through the wards on his chamber so I can keep an eye on him. You will then go down and see what you can do to cheer him up a bit and I'll call Severus up here for a serious talk and let him see exactly what an impact he's had. I don’t want them in the same room as each other at any point in the immediate future - they're powerful enough for there to be some serious accidental magic, particularly on James' part."

Abe seemed to be thinking it over.

"For one of your ideas, it seems adequate. I'm not sure which of them will be hurting most right now but Severus is one of the most hard-headed men I know and James isn't much better. What's more, he has a guilt complex. If we leave him for long enough, he'll manage to convince himself that it's his fault Lucius Malfoy ever came to power and that's when we have real problems. Are you sure we can't send a house elf in to bypass the charms?"

"What do you expect?" Albus snapped. "I've already tried that. You taught him to ward things, so of course he's been thorough. At Hogwarts it's an obvious thing to do."

"Sorry, that was a little over-hopeful. Let's get started."



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It took them two hours to break a chink in the impressively solid walls. Albus, tired and with aching arms, made his way down to the Potions classroom, accompanied by Abe, who headed off towards James' rooms.

The class in progress was seventh years, one that required little supervision with a number of brewers competent to keep a check on the others while the teacher was absent. For that, Albus gave thanks to whatever power was guiding him - certainly everything else was going badly enough.

He knocked on the door to warn of his presence and pushed it open. It was never a good idea to interrupt the brewing process by walking in, his yellow robes in particular might startle a busy brewer long enough to cause an explosion. Slowly, he made his way down the aisle to the desk where Severus was seated, scrawling spiky notes onto what appeared to be student essays.

Severus looked up as he approached and when Albus gestured towards the door, he scowled and stood up.

"Until my return, Miss Fancourt will be responsible for general order. Continue as you have been until the end of the lesson," he said, voice icy as he moved towards the door. "If I have not returned by the end of the lesson, put a notice on the door telling all subsequent classes to go to the library."

As soon as they were out of the room, he shut the door firmly and turned to the headmaster.

"What in Merlin's name do you want, Albus?" he demanded harshly.

"If you insist on being difficult, I must ask you to come with me to my office where we can talk in a more civilised manner without being overheard by any curious students."

"Fine," he said and strode off in the direction of the staircase, not even glancing at the corridor leading to his - and James' - quarters. Albus hurried to keep up: the man really did have long legs, no wonder his robes billowed so magnificently if this was the pace he kept to.

As soon as they were safely in the small turret, Severus stood scowling furiously in front of the desk as Albus puffed in and took his seat behind the desk. He looked up, hiding amusement.

"Do sit down, you look like a stubborn student here to be reprimanded." Grudgingly, Severus perched stiffly on the edge of a chair.

"Lemon drop? Tea? Not this time, maybe. Now, I know you don't like me meddling in your private affairs but this is affecting the school and as such it is my responsibility to talk to you. What happened last night that has upset you so much? If I don't know, there is no way I can help you in any way."

Severus glared at him in silence, not a sound passing his thin lips as he pressed them together.

Albus sighed, it was going to be like this then. He stood up and came around the desk to take a seat next to Severus, facing a blank canvas on the wall.

"You do know that Professor Evans hasn't left his rooms today, don't you? My first thought was that you had had some kind of misunderstanding so I have broken through the ward he erected around his bedroom. And yes, I am quite aware of what his reaction to that would be. All I ask is that you observe." He drew his wand and pointed it at the canvas.

"James' quarters," he pronounced clearly and the image immediately formed. Albus' heart went out to the young man again as he caught sight of the scene playing out.

James was in bed, wearing the boxers he must have slept in. His hair, usually neat and tied back was loose, tangled and sticking out in all directions as he curled on his bed, knees pulled tightly to his chest and head buried in his arms. The pillow from Severus' side of the bed was hugged as close as possible to him, arms resting on it. He was rocking slightly, as if so upset, so devastated, that even the release of tears wouldn't come.

Albus glanced sideways at Severus. His face was angled as if he was looking out of the window without a care for whatever was happening in the dungeons but every few seconds his eyes were flickering towards the image with hidden interest.

As they watched, Abe came in, wand still drawn from taking down the wards fully so that he could enter. He sighed, eyes closed for a minute as if silently praying for help, and came slowly and painfully across to the bed. James' head rose for a moment, a swollen red eye flicking open so quickly that it was as if he'd imagined it before vanishing again.

Abe sat down next to him on the bed and waited for a few seconds. When it became clear that his protégé wasn't going to move, he extended an arm and pulled James into his chest in a one armed hug.

There seemed to be no immediate change but slowly, gradually, James' arms relaxed from their white-knuckled grip around his legs and shifted slowly towards Abe until he was clinging to his robe, head buried in his side, body shaking with silent sobs now coming. The fear of rejection was clear in the exaggerated caution.

One glance at Severus told him that this had had an effect and, not wanting to intrude on such a private moment any more, Albus cancelled the charm and turned back to his other friend. He didn't say anything, leaving Severus alone with his thoughts until he was comfortable enough to look back at him to defend himself, confess or make his accusations.

"Is there anything you want to say, Severus?" Albus asked gently at last.

There was a moment's silence.

"You knew, I suppose," Severus said. He sounded defeated and Albus winced inwardly.

"Since the warding ritual," he confessed. "As far as I know, only Hermione, Abe, Remus and myself know, not even Draco does."

" Standard prejudice against Slytherins."

"No," Albus said calmly, knowing that wasn't true. "The man is as much Slytherin as he is Gryffindor and proud of it. He merely fears to be thrown back into a world that he wants no part of so keeps his identity to himself. He is quite happy being thought dead, happier than he ever was as a child."

"If he's so hating of the wizarding world, why is he here?" Severus asked harshly.

"I didn’t mean magic - he wouldn't want to lose that for anything. No, I meant the life of a hero: the media following him everywhere, the political expectations, the attention, the lack of privacy . . . He's spent his whole life trying to escape it. Are you angry because he didn't tell you, because you didn't realise or because he's Harry Potter?" Severus shot out of his feet and towered over him.

"Why do you think, Albus?! He's bloody James Potter's son and he's probably just doing this for fun! Why should I demean myself for that?"

"And Abe's been saying you were more sensible than that," he said, disappointed. Obviously this case required a very different tactic from the one he had been employing. Perhaps Severus was still carrying around most of his misapprehensions. His face hardened and he snapped, "Sit down Severus!"

There was a long pause.

"Now!"

Severus reluctantly sat down.

"Good. Now, take a lemon drop."

"Drugged, of course."

"Calming potion. I think you need it right now."

Severus obediently ate a single lemon drop.

"Now what?"

"I heard you insult and belittle that child throughout his school years and perhaps some of it he did deserve. He was indeed a little troublesome at times; so, might I point out, were you. What is more Severus, is that he is an adult, not an eleven year old. He knew perfectly well, or at least suspected, that you would react like this and dreaded it, risking it because he believed it would be worth it. You are going to tell me every reason you dislike him and I will take every single one of your reasons and tear them to shreds. You may begin."

Severus stared at him. The Headmaster hadn't treated him like this for years. Eventually, he grudgingly began to speak.

"He has no respect for his elders."

"Strange, I have always found him most polite, quite unlike yourself at that age as I recall. There was that one incident when I was called things I hesitate to repeat. Perhaps the only reason he didn’t worship the ground you walked on as a student was that you never gave him a reason to. You started that battle in his first lesson and I cannot hold him responsible for the entirety of it."

"Very well. He is a rich, spoilt brat."

Albus lost it. That was an accusation that was so far from the truth it was ludicrous. He was very, very close to losing control and he honestly didn't care if Severus knew it and was scared. At the moment, he couldn't help but feel that he deserved it, hurting or not.

"Rich, I cannot deny but he didn't learn of the extent of his money until his sixteenth birthday, only a couple of his months before his disappearance. As to spoilt, with that I disagree entirely and I am ashamed that you should even suggest it. That is something I count as one of the worst decisions of my life. Think back to Mr Weasleys description of his relatives and multiply it by ten if you want an accurate assessment. Young Draco was spoilt, yet I don't see you bullying him for it, quite the contrary in fact. So far, dear boy, you only seem to me hypocritical and short sighted and I have no sympathy for you whatsoever. Right now I have a man downstairs who is so emotionally fragile that a rejection like this could easily have turned him to suicide had my brother not arrived. He is so insecure that he tells no one his feelings and what is more he has know understanding of them whatsoever. Draco tells me that he came to him a while back to ask him what it felt to be in love. What sort of man asks that? The most he has seen is Mr and Mrs Weasley for a short period aged twelve - hardly a good basis for deep understanding. Why the hell can't you get it into your head that he loves you completely for yourself, sarcastic and reclusive as you are, and anyone else can go shoot themselves for all he cares. You are the first partner he has apparently ever shown any of himself to and I can't blame him if he doesn't repeat the experience. Right now, you will return to your quarters to think about what you have heard and seen before I lose my temper and hit you with some extremely nasty hexes. Move!"

Severus looked at him as if betrayed, his face expressionless as he spun and marched with great dignity down to his chambers. He was not going to act as if he was a rebellious ten-year-old who'd been sent to his room. As far as he was concerned, the headmaster was a biased, senile old man with more heart than brains and with obvious preferences for his Gryffindors. He had never expected sympathy, not for him, and had not received any. No one had ever bothered to give it to him because it would take so much effort to ram it through his prickly shields and he didn't want it. He was a Slytherin, completely self sufficient, and if the whole world turned against him, he would prove his independence.



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Two days passed before anyone saw James again. Aberforth had left just a few hours after his arrival, leaving behind him a calming draught, a particularly fluffy blanket that he'd liked while living at the University and a little cuddly goat toy. Anything after that, he had said, was up to James and no one could do anything else to help. The doors to the small suite of rooms had locked themselves after him and no one had managed to open them. Frustrated, Albus had fire-called his brother, to be handed a note by an assistant.

The password is in Parseltongue. You might as well give up now.



That had really not done any wonders for his temper. He shouldn’t have given him a Parselmouth as a portrait, Slytherin or no.

Much to Albus' surprise, when he turned up at the head table that morning, he appeared perfectly well and cheerful, his cheeks slightly tanned and rosy as if he had spent the time on the beach instead of locked in his rooms. James was wearing a set of green robes, Albus had a feeling they were his favourite, and was perfectly groomed, not a hair out of place. After the worry he'd been through, it was a little irritating to say the least.

A quick glance at Severus that morning at breakfast showed him to be pale as ever, picking at his food and casting glances along the table beneath his shielding hair. He seemed a little disappointed if anything. He'd been remarkably quiet for the past few days: normally if something went wrong you heard about it in the staffroom, acidic little comments and jibes that were his outlet. There had been none of that. He had been thoughtful; once Albus had seen him skimming through an autobiographical book by Neville Longbottom of all people. Admittedly, it had been a best-seller, but Albus would have eaten his hat, point and all, if it was indeed young Mr Longbottom that Severus was interested in.

Poor Alistair watched from the Slytherin table. He knew something was up - he had spent too much time around them not to know and had been worried by James' absence - but no one was quite willing to explain the cause to him. They suspected he believed it was illness and Madam Pomfrey was ready to answer any query he might bring her. It was much easier to leave him with his misconceptions.

A few students seemed to notice James' return and greeted him amiably as they passed the table, inquiring after his health. Albus had been the one to spread the contradictory rumours of an illness, a family emergency, of a mission for the order of the phoenix. The one thing they'd had in common was that Severus was the one picking up the slack, an obvious explanation for his present bad temper.

The two of them ignored each other all morning. It might not have been obvious to the students but to any of the staff it was as blatantly obvious as . . . as the way Severus and Sybil despised each other. They hadn't sat together at breakfast and talked over their toast, James - who had never bothered to get a subscription - reading the Prophet over his friend's shoulder. They hadn't drunk their coffee together in the staffroom at break, greeted each other in the corridors, vanished together when they had a shared free period. No, something was quite obviously Not Right and practically everyone seemed to have worked out what it was.

Nothing changed until lunchtime, when the breakfast fiasco repeated itself. James sat at one end of the table, chatting amiably to Rubeus Hagrid (though Albus would later swear he caught him looking at Severus) and Severus sat at the other end, glowering at his food and staring at his estranged lover. The tension was almost visible and all of the teachers save the oblivious Hagrid were treading carefully, eating faster than normal and hoping to vacate the vicinity before the fireworks started. Severus they knew to be downright scary when angry, no matter that almost all of them had taught him as a child. As for James, well, anyone who beat the headmaster in a duel was a little worrying if there was a chance they might lose control.

Suddenly Severus sat up straighter, frowned slightly and turned to his food with a slightly more enthusiastic approach. Albus watched curiously: what had the man noticed to be so, well cheerful, for him. The students poured out on their way to their lessons, shortly followed by the staff. Albus fidgeted uncomfortably for a moment then made a strategic retreat, giving them their privacy.

The silence was overwhelmingly loud. James stubbornly remained in his seat. Severus had rejected him, he wasn't going to be the one to make the first move. Still, if Severus didn't get on with it he would have to leave anyway to teach his next class, as it was he was going to be late.

Severus walked up to him a minute later. He was still glowering and James gulped inwardly: he'd been hoping so much that they could just make up but maybe it wasn't to be. He might retire and live with Draco and Blaise, that way he'd get to see plenty of his godson and feel busy and worthwhile looking after the estate.

"My rooms, straight after lessons!" he hissed. "Don't be late."

With that he spun and, robes billowing, he strode out.

James got up slowly, pushing a mostly untouched plate of food away from him. Had that been a good sign or a bad one? Quite frankly there was no point in dwelling on it: as it was he already felt like burning himself up in his own magic would be more comfortable. Three days without food, most of it spent crying or having nightmares was not good for the health by any stretch of the imagination.

He looked at the door Severus had just walked out of. Honestly, a simple invitation would have been sufficient! A fond smile flickered around his lips, not quite making it but fighting for its place: he could be surprisingly sweet sometimes, to the affectionate eye, putting on his mask whenever he felt threatened or nervous.

James shook himself out of that train of thought before it really started. He was a teacher, he was already late for his class and he was talking to Severus later. This was no time to be daydreaming.



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He was taking one of his seventh year classes today and they were waiting anxiously when he arrived. There were definite benefits to teaching the older years, one being that they had a little more common sense and thought of him as a person rather than as some kind of mutant vampire set on destroying their lives. Come to think of it, he and Ron had said more or less that about Severus in their own schooldays.

"Are you okay sir?" one girl asked. James blinked, confused. Then he remembered that some of them thought he'd been ill.

"Absolutely, thank you, I was just held up for a bit," he managed, walking around his desk to sit in his chair with great relief. Pulling open the drawer, he took out a neatly planned timetable and put it on the desk in front of him. He paused for a moment to let his class prepare themselves and began.

"Now, as I'm sure you're all aware, the NEWTs start in just under four weeks. I'm assuming you know that you will have two sections - practical and theory - so I won't go into it. Your first exam is the theory, followed a week later by the practical. I suggest you get out a quill and parchment so you can jot down what we'll be going over during the next few weeks."

There was a muted shuffling sound as the few people were weren't already poised to take notes hunted around in their bags for a quill that wasn't too blunt, cracked or falling to pieces.

"The NEWT course has been divided into four units, we'll cover two each week. For the remainder of this week - three lessons - we'll cover what I term the Dark Creatures: the magical animals essentially and the legislation surrounding them. We'll also cover Dark Beings - the vampires, werewolves etc. There's quite a lot of theory involved in that, so make sure you bring your notes along. Next week we'll be working through the various defensive and offensive spells that we've covered and the regulations applied." One boy raised his hand slightly.

"When will we be doing practical work sir?"

"Mostly just before the exams but I might ask you to go over something at any time, so be ready for it. I assume, of course, that you're doing a fair amount of revision out of class since I'm no longer setting you homework?"

A few of them looked a little guilty. James was unsurprised to see that they mostly numbered among them his best students. They were probably using the extra time to revise subjects they were weaker in and relying on duelling club and lesson time to keep their Defense Against the Dark Arts going until a few days before the exam. What Hermione would have said to that, he had a very good idea. There had been times when he decided that being organised was a curse rather than a blessing and when Ernie Macmillan had announced he was doing eight hours a day, well, that was never going to happen.

"Vampires," he said, turning to write that on the board with the end of his wand. "A quick summary, just call out the answers. Place of origin?"

"Eastern Europe."

"Correct, although you can find them almost anywhere now, they don't just stay there. Appearance?"

"Pale."

"Long teeth."

"Thank you, Mr Alderton, but a little more specifically?"

"Long canines."

"That's better. And?"

"Skinny."

"And how do you deal with one?"

"Sunlight, stake or beheading."

James decided to cover that point himself.

"Most things that kill a mortal will kill one of them, with the exceptions of old age and blood loss, though starvation will work. Hack it into enough pieces, burn it or put something through its heart. Specific to vampires is that many younger vampires have problems being out in direct sunlight or even in out of the shadows so you can use a charm to simulate the effect. Miss Higgs?"

"Solare."

"Exactly. Mr Alderton, what are the main parts of the law that relate to vampires?"

"Well, they're classed as Beings but there's no embassy or treaty with them like there is with the goblins. All vampires resident in the UK have to be registered with the ministry but technically they have no power over individual vampires and have to negotiate through the various clans. Turning a human without their permission or to prevent their um death is an offence that is punishable by immediate execution. I don't think vampires can hold any sort of public position here either."

"They also can't attend Hogwarts because of the risk of young, inexperienced vampires losing control and draining people. Then again, vampire children are kept very sheltered since they are the most vulnerable to sunlight and lack of blood to drink. Kill a vampire child and you have immediate blood feud with the Clan and you're likely to be killed in a matter of days, even hours. What can you tell me about their magic, Miss Walpotts?

"They don't use a wand?"

"That's right. Can they do magic?"

"Well, I think some can and some can't?"

"Carry on."

"If you were a wizard before you were turned or come from a family with magic you can but if you were a Muggle you can't."

"Exactly. And vampire specific magic?"

"You mean they are practically immortal and have strong mental and healing gifts."

"That's what I was looking for. Now, werewolves."

James completed the lesson with no ill effects and felt inclined to dash straight down to Severus' rooms. He didn't. One, because he was too nervous; two, because he'd look like an idiot and three, because he had a headache and that would only make it worse. Technically as a member of staff he could request a potion for it from the resident Potions Master but since that was Severus, he didn't dare. He'd probably end up with either Veritaserum or a very nasty, slow acting poison.

At last, James knocked on the wall by Severus' portrait. Given the circumstances, it would have been extremely rude to walk straight in, and besides, he was sure Severus would have changed the password.

It opened a moment later.

James came through and sat down in the chair indicated. On a small table in front of him was a small vile of a slightly green-tinged liquid.

"A mild truth serum," Severus explained calmly, following his gaze. "I will drink half to prove to you that it is harmless and then you will drink the remaining half. You have the right to refuse, of course, but I would rather have the confirmation."

"Oh," James managed articulately. It seemed that maybe he was being given a chance, however slight. "Okay."

"And while we're at it, you can take down that ridiculous glamour charm as well."

James winced slightly. Bloody spies. Bloody Slytherins. It was not fair!

He dropped the glamour. He looked like a Slytherin seeker who'd just been dragged headfirst through the Gryffindor common room the night before a game and he knew it. His eyes were red and swollen, dark bags underneath them. His hair was pulled into a semblance of normality, though it was messy and uneven. What was more, he had a black eye from walking headfirst into the bedpost this morning as he attempted to get out of bed. Seeing it, Severus' face softened and he seemed to be about to move his hand up to touch it but jerked his hand back and sat down, abruptly draining half of the small vile. James gingerly reached for it and tipped the remaining drops down his throat. It didn't taste quite as bad as he was expecting.

"Question," Severus began. "What is your name?"

"Harry James Evans Potter," James said truthfully. He wasn't being forced to tell the truth, the serum didn't do that, but he had nothing to hide and, in this case, honesty would be the best advocate he could get.

"Were you ever intending to tell me that?"

"No."

"Were you ever intending to tell anyone that?"

"No."

"Have you ever told anyone deliberately?"

"Yes. Remus."

"Why don't you want to?"

"Who would want to be a poster boy for the entire wizarding world? I've never wanted the fame, the notoriety, the attention and this way I don't have to deal with it."

"What were your intentions in pursuing a relationship with me?"

James was starting to wonder whether he'd planned these questions about before hand. The man certainly wasn't leaving him any loopholes.

"I . . . I'm not exactly sure. I like you, admire you and it . . . well, it felt right. I've never really had anything long-term before, so I don't know exactly how to say it. It wasn't for anything negative, or as revenge or something. I don't think I'd be able to do that to someone even if I wanted to. I . . . I wanted this to last a long term, maybe even for ever but I guess I've blown that now."

"What have you done the past two days?"

James scowled.

"You would ask that, wouldn't you? I shut myself in my room, cried, had nightmares and sulked. That's about it."

"Try and lie to me now. Who is your best friend?"

"Sibyl Trelawney."

James sneezed furiously, only stopping as he managed to choke out the real answer,

"Draco Malfoy."

And suddenly Severus was there, offering him a glass of water, an arm around his shoulder.

"We're both idiots," he said. "Aren't we? I suppose I can cohabit with a Potter with a effort, even a half-Gryffindor."

James looked at him and a smile spread shyly across his face. That was as close to an invitation as he was likely to get. Certainly there wouldn't be anything like 'I was an idiot, I'm sorry and I'll do anything if I can have you back'. James didn't really care, this was all he needed, especially as Severus raised a gentle hand to feel his puffy black eye. He shivered slightly.

"I'll find you something for that," Severus said.

James kissed him, then pulled away long enough to say,

"Who cares about that?"



* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *



Neither of them made it to supper that evening, nor breakfast the next morning. Albus noticed their absence with a smug little smile, shaking his head fondly at long past memories; the other teachers merely breathed a sigh of relief and a sent a prayer of thanksgiving to whichever kind deity had arranged the reconciliation. There had been moments when even the hardened war veterans amongst them had feared for their skins.

James didn't come out of his rooms again for another day, though Severus taught his lessons as normal, returned to his relatively good humour and passing on cover work for the Defense classes. When quizzed on this by Albus, he had returned a piercing look and informed him that his partner was currently in their chambers, soundly asleep and with access to a strong sleeping potion should he need it. Albus had taken one look at him and not pressed the matter.



* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *



The following Saturday afternoon, Albus called a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix in the chamber hidden within the castle. James, now fully recovered, made his way there with Severus, a heavy green cloak over his distinctive white robes. There was no ceremony this time as they passed through the door into the main chamber and approached the table.

Fawkes trilled a welcome to them, launching from his perch on Albus' shoulder and pulling James to the seat to the right hand of their leader at the head of the table. It was the seat he had always taken before, as Harry, the second in command of the Order. Now, it seemed that much less ceremony was attached to it, though a few members regarded the scene with interest: it was rare for the ancient phoenix to take this much interest in a relatively new recruit.

"Albus!" he hissed, glancing around to see who was listening. "This is too close - what if they recognise me!"

Albus twinkled at him, patted his arm and smiled.

"Gently there, dear boy, Fawkes has made his decision and who are we to question it when we all know who is really in charge here."

Severus slid into the seat beyond James and grimaced expressively at him.

"Now, I call the meeting to order," Albus said, looking sternly at them as they sat there pulling faces at each other like two first years. "Severus, I believe you have gathered some new intelligence for us."

Both of them became serious and Severus stood up to address the table. He paused for a moment, hands on the wood in front of him.

"As most of you know," he said at last, "since my . . . exposure . . . I have kept a small network of intelligence gatherers together and kept up with some of my shadier contacts. I will not disclose their identities, though some of you have asked, and will merely say that they have their own reasons for not being seated here with us. According to them, the next attack will be a large one on the village of Godric's Hollow."

James sucked in a breath and Severus' eyes flicked sideways to him for a moment before he continued.

"However, Lucius will not attend this attack himself. He has closeted himself away with his inner circle and is rumoured to be planning an even more ambitious raid, the target is unknown to me as yet."

"What forces can we expect from him?" Kingsley Shacklebolt asked, lounging back on his seat between Nymphadora Tonks and Mad Eye Moody. The Aurors seemed to have a small faction of their own and always sat together at the far end of the table.

"Exactly, it is impossible to say. However, I would estimate a small contingent of vampires, the least valuable of his Death Eaters with maybe a couple more senior to co-ordinate them and, if he can get them, a number of Dementors. Lucius is nothing if not resourceful and he used his time at the Ministry well. Many of the Dark Lord's allies have given oath to him and, as a pureblood from a respectable family, he has brought in recruits from across the continent. Already it is believed that his forces rival the Dark Lord's at their height, although they are lacking in both power and experience."

"Thank you Severus," Albus said, standing up and taking the few steps back that led him to a blank board behind him. A wave of his wand and a map appeared on the surface. "While Lucius is undeniably powerful, he is somewhat rash at times, very unlike his previous master. His prejudices will also aid us against him. A large proportion of the population of Godric's Hollow are half blood families, those without ancestral family homes and who are uncomfortable within a fully Muggle settlement. In fact, I have been able to contact, through Alastor, those of the retired Ministry employees who were competent in combat and alerted them to the situation. One such will be in charge of the alarm that will alert us as soon as he makes his move."

"Should it be in the near future, most of us who are employed at the Ministry must be ruled out," Arthur said, glancing down the table at the Aurors. "It wouldn't do for there not to be an official Ministry detachment.

Albus looked at him for a moment, then nodded.

"The strike force will be made up mostly from snitch squadron, thus Bill, Hestia, Ron, Hermione, Fleur, Neville. Minerva and Alastor will not be going. James, you will be leading this one."

There were a few murmurs from further down the table, as James jumped slightly in surprise. Snitch squadron had been his personal command during the last months of the previous war, after his 'death' it had since been usually under the command of Neville. Albus was undeniably taking a large risk in putting him back in control, highly skilled or not, he wasn't believed to have as much experience as the others.

Looking at his future command, he saw Hermione with a small smile on her face, not that he'd expected any dissent from her. Ron too was looking satisfied: they'd made friends quickly after their meeting in October and he was convinced of James' competency. The older ones - Hestia, Fleur and Bill - were looking slightly doubtful, though they hadn't said anything. As for Neville, well, he looked perfectly content.

Someone had once told James that the best leader you could find was one who didn't want the job. Both Neville and he were embodiments of that: young men forced into a position that no one else could quite fill. With his trust in the headmaster, Neville was more than content to pass on the responsibility.

"If no one has any objections," James said quietly, feeling the burden of his true name beginning to settle on his shoulders once again, "I will accept."

There was a long tense pause. When it became clear that there were in fact no objections, it was as if the whole room breathed a sigh of relief. Albus, standing in front of them all, certainly did.

"Thank you, James," he said, smiling. "However, I must insist that you conceal your face so we can hold in 'in reserve' as it were. A mask is a little cliché but terribly effective. If you could somehow contrive to look more like poor Harry, that might strike a little fear into the hearts of our enemies."

For a moment, James considered objecting. Then he drew his wand and thought for a moment. A scrap of paper from his pocket was moulded carefully around the top half of his face and charmed to stay in place. When he was satisfied, the others watched in fascination as he delicately transfigured phoenix feathers to cover it in the unmistakable crimson and gold with a level of hard won skill that made Minerva smile in delight: if only she had had the privilege of teaching him at Hogwarts….

When they thought he must at last be done, Fawkes settled on his shoulder and dangled his tail feathers down James' front. He grinned, reaching up to run a hand through the feathers as if preening them. He then settled on a small one and gently drew it out. Freely given, a phoenix feather was a great gift and would serve to augment his powers still further.

That done, he conjured a pair of scissors and turned to Severus.

"Hair, please," he said with only a hint of reluctance. This was only a demonstration for now - after this raid he would grow it straight back out again with a potion or using his innate gift for growing it. Until then, the loss would be covered with a simple illusion.

Severus looked equally reluctant but hacked roughly away at it, leaving it cropped unevenly short. It was jagged, ruffled, messy, sticking up in all directions, just as it always had. It didn't matter - that had been the method Aunt Petunia had usually used. There was no way they'd have paid for a decent cut.

James put the mask on and turned to face them. It was a little surprising that they'd all paused to watch him but then they knew almost everything about each of the others, he was still an enigma.

"I trust this will suffice," he said, well aware that there was nothing else that could resemble Harry more.

They considered him for a moment, a couple looked doubtful although Hermione, Severus and Albus looked a little wistful. Ron frowned slightly.

"I dunno mate, you look, well, older than Harry. His face was kind of rounder than yours was and he wasn't nearly as tall, poor little midget," he said, with a hint of the teasing that James remembered enduring for so long.

"Boys grow up," was all James said in reply before he removed the mask, cast an illusion on his hair and returned to his seat, looking to Albus for further instructions.

"Ah yes, thank you James, I believe that will more than satisfy. Now, the main apparition point in Godric's Hollow is located here, on the green. Since many of the Death Eaters will not have been there before and Lucius will be taking no chances, this is where they will appear. Snitch squadron will enter the battle from here," he said, pointing to a point where a derelict house was marked. "You will assemble at this point and enter the fray as a group. This means that you must familiarise yourself with those coordinates and location as soon as you can. As always, the infirmary available to you will be at the school, each of you carrying an emergency portly to the infirmary on a chain around your necks. All of you except James should already be carrying one; I will equip him tomorrow morning."

He returned to the table, and sat down, taking a sip of water from the glass in front of him.

"Now," he said, taking a deep breath. "Hogwarts. It is unlikely that Lucius will ever dare to attack us before he is killed, however we must consider the possibility and prepare for it. Lucius does not have the natural caution and tactical ability of Voldemort and may take the risk. I will not leave the castle at all in the immediate future as this makes it instantly vulnerable. This being Lucius Malfoy, I would imagine that he would make his move during a mealtime where he has the largest audience and plenty of hostages who we must be careful of. Students will be informed of what they must do. Should I be killed. . . "

"You, Headmaster?" Molly Weasley asked incredulously. Surely the man who had defeated the dark lord Grindewald and survived two rises in the front lines against the dark lord Voldemort was not seriously suggesting that this upstart Malfoy might kill him?

"Alas Molly, I grow old and my powers are waning as my body declines. I am content as things are and my death, whenever it occurs, shall be no one's fault but my own. Should this happen, and I sincerely doubt that it will, the wards will immediately transfer to James. The chances are that this will mean a slight increase in strength as what he lacks in experience will be made up for in the short run by his greater energy. Wherever he is, the will undoubtedly Apparate back to Hogwarts and I have a feeling that if anyone defeats Lucius Malfoy, it will be him. This means," he said sternly. "That I don't want the rest of you to do anything except defend the children and try and evacuate as many as possible. As well as keeping you safe, it will most likely have the added bonus of making our enemy extremely confused. I believe that is all we need to say for this meeting of the Order. Kingsley, Severus, if you could come up to my office for a moment."

Hermione caught James as he left the meeting and dragged him down to his own quarters.

"So Fawkes thinks you should be taking up your responsibilities?" she said, nursing a warm cup of tea in her hands. "Quite right too, though I think you can do it just as well as James Evans. The mask was inspired and did you hear Ron?"

"I'm not sure mate," Harry said, doing a terrible impression. "But you look a bit too old to be a sixteen year old boy. It's not right, you know."

Hermione giggled.

"It would have been perfectly serious with anyone else but telling you that…. Priceless, absolutely priceless. I'll write it down in my journal and remind him about it when he can share the joke."

"I'm not intending on telling anyone else, Hermione," James quickly reminded her. After those days with Severus, he wasn't sure he wanted to take the risk.

"Fate does funny things with your life, Harry, and I don't think that you'll be able to manage for much longer now that the fight is getting more serious. You have a rather unmistakable style and I think Albus has a point. If anyone can kill Lucius, it's you, and since it is you, you'll do it quickly and thoroughly and blast him just the same way you did Voldemort and of course, that means that everyone will guess and I'm telling you, Mr Potter, that if you dare try and vanish again…."

"I'm not intending to, not without Severus anyway."

"You got together then? Professor Dumbledore was telling me about how you two were tiptoeing around each other a few weeks ago. He thought it was extremely amusing. It's not something I'd even considered when we were still at school but it makes quite a lot of sense now."

"He understands me, I think that's one of the main attractions, and I can trust him implicitly. He's got a wicked sense of humour as well and he's well, nice really. It feels right."

"Does he know about…"

"Who I am? Yes, he found out a few days ago and had a fit. It was . . . rough. Still, I think we're over that now. I probably should have told him much earlier but I guess I was too scared to."

"I'm glad you found someone," she said, curled up in the armchair and smiling as if she understood perfectly. "Apparently Ron and I were always clearly each other's match but we worried about you - it's not everyone who could live up to your reputation."

"I suppose. I was always more concerned about surviving when I was at Hogwarts."

"From a teacher's point of you, your prime purpose in life seemed to be to cause trouble," Severus said from behind them, having entered soundlessly, curious as to what they were saying.

They jumped, startled, and suddenly James was very glad that they hadn't been talking about something really odd or some embarrassing story from their Gryffindor schooldays, especially one that involved stolen potions ingredients.

"Severus," he said, standing to kiss his lover lightly. "How did the meeting go?"

"Nothing of great import, merely instructions to continue as we have been and what in particular he wants us to discover. Good evening, Mrs Weasley."

"Hello Professor."

"You mean to say you aren't on first name terms yet?" James asked incredulously. "You've only been working in the Order together for how long - eight years?" Severus rolled his eyes and Hermione sighed.

"Very well, as long as you have no objections," he said, not sounding too reluctant. She grinned at him.

"I didn't like to be thought impudent. So, I hear you're now one of us who know."

"Indeed."

"And?"

"My questions have all been satisfactorily answered. He has grown up a great deal since we last met. Circumstances have led us to a greater understanding."

"You mean you're shagging and he's too hot to pass up?"

"Hermione!" James said, shocked. Hermione really had changed. He struggled for a moment before coming up with a viable objection. "Quit talking about me as if I'm not here."

"Sorry," she said, not sounding at all repentant. "I've got to go - Ron'll be wondering where I've got to. See you around."

She waltzed out, leaving them staring after her.

"Well, she's certainly changed a bit," James said after a minute. "I never expected her to come out with something like that."

"Quite likely she just said it to see our reactions," Severus said, amused. "It has an element of truth anyway. You have good choice in friends."

"As do you."

"And in lovers, of course."

"So sure?"

"Of course."

There was a pause.

"Are you sure you have to go on the raid?" Severus asked at last. "The others are all more than competent and you have . . . responsibilities here. With the mask, you'll be more of a target than any of the others."

James smiled, touched by the quiet concern he saw in his lover's face. No one had ever really been that concerned for him before: he'd been a weapon to those he'd fought alongside, his friends in Gryffindor hadn't understood what it really meant to be out there.

"Sev, I've been doing this since I was sixteen," he said gently. "No, since I was eleven really. I've had a hell of a lot of training since then. I can't possibly be more of a target than when I was out there as myself, can I?"

"Can't you let someone else take care of it, it's not your responsibility any more," Severus said but even as he said it, his face showed that he knew what the answer would be and that, in James' place, he would make the same decision.

"You know I can't because as long as I have the power, I have to use it to do what I can to help people. It might come that there was someone I could have saved but I wasn't there and they were killed. I don't think I could live with that and I know that you couldn't either."

"At least promise that you won't do something horrifically Gryffindor and life-threatening."

"The whole thing is life-threatening," James said with a morbid laugh. "Don't worry, I'm as Slytherin as you, I won't rush into a hopeless situation. I promise you that I'll come back every time that I have to go out there."



* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *



The next morning found James, prompted by their talk the previous evening, up in Albus' office struggling with a piece of parchment.

"Are you sure you need to do this?" Albus asked from where he sat at his desk writing letters to various important personages. James sighed.

"It was okay before because I didn't have anything to lose. Now I feel I should write a will so that Alistair and little Harry and Severus get what they should if I die. The problem is that I don't know where to start."

"Write down a list of everything you own and then start allocating it."

"The problem is that I don't even know half of what I own."

"Oh, how about thinking about it in terms of Alistair and Harry."

James thought for a moment.

"Tell me, is it possible to adopt someone into a family and have them join the bloodline, as it were."

"Yes, it's the most complete form of an adoption," Albus said, not sounding too surprised. "It's called a blood adoption, generally and all it would require is a vial of blood from you and your signature on some documents."

James nodded, turned his quill to parchment, thanking the gods that there was no particular legal language that was needed, just a clear statement, although it was generally expected that you use relatively formal language. It was a very weird feeling to be writing to people who would only read it after your death.

The will of Harry James Evans Potter, Defence Master at Hogwarts School.

First, I would like to make clear that my death was likely no fault of anybody's. I put my life at risk in the hope of making a difference to other people and any guilt can fall only on my own shoulders.

To my godson, Henry Severus Malfoy, I offer a blood adoption into the family of Slytherin as my son and the inheritance of those properties that fall under the Slytherin inheritance in addition to those he will receive from the Malfoy line. These include those previously owned by the Black family that came into my hands upon the death of my own godfather, Sirius Orion Black. To take my place as godparent, I name Ronald Bilius Weasley, given the acceptance of Draco Cassius Malfoy and Blaise Genevieve Malfoy.

To my ward, Alistair Cai Macdonald, I offer a blood adoption into the family of Gryffindor as my son and the inheritance of those properties that fall under the Gryffindor inheritance. These include all those that came to me as part of the Potter inheritance. His guardianship I leave in the hands of Severus Melchior Snape and the aforementioned Draco Cassius Malfoy.

To Draco Cassius Mafloy, Aberforth Stephen Lyle Cuthbert Dumbledore and Bertram Everard Highcastle I leave any photographs and personal effects dating to my time at the University.

To Ronald Bilius Weasley and Hermione Jane Weasley I leave any personal effects and photographs dating from my time as a student Hogwarts.

To my partner, Severus Melchior Snape I leave my deep love and all of my remaining belongings, including the potions ingredients that are currently stored in the student's quarters in Aberforth Dumbledore's rooms at Griffin University.

I leave you now with some words that a wise teacher and friend once told me when I was a child. 'To the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure.' From an early age, adventures have sought me out and now I have begun a new one on which I cannot be accompanied. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, so move on and do not grieve overmuch for me.

James read it through and signed it with a sprawling script. Then he allowed the drop of blood to fall onto it and it vanished to wherever the wills of the magical populace were stored in the Ministry. Surprisingly, he felt better about what he was going to have to do, knowing that whatever happened, his belongings and wealth would go to good homes.

"All done, James?" Albus asked.

"Yes, thank you. I'd better go and talk to Alistair now, let him know that I'm about to embark on another mad scheme that could get me killed."

"You're more resilient than that, dear boy, I have every confidence in you."



* * * * * * * * * * * * * *



James smiled and sent a house elf to ask Alistair to meet him in his rooms. The boy was there when he arrived, looking confused and uncomfortable. They hadn't originally intended to have one of their 'family time' meetings that weekend because of the Order meeting and he was slightly apprehensive as to whether he was in trouble for something. Like most of the Slytherins, he had a guilty conscience. Most of his misdeeds were mild but he could think of no other reason.

"Morning Alistair," James said cheerfully as he came in. "Don't worry, you're not in trouble."

"There's not anything wrong with Professor Snape is there? Or you having to go away?"

"Well, do you know what the Order of the Phoenix is?" James asked. Alistair was Muggleborn, it was entirely possible that he didn't, despite spending Christmas with them.

"I think so, they fight against dark wizards, don't they? Professor Dumbledore's in charge and I think a lot of the teachers here are in it."

"That's right. I'm one of them and I've been asked to lead the defence of a village in the next attack. We don't know when exactly it's going to be but I didn't want you to be surprised when I vanished."

"But you might get hurt, mightn't you?"

"Yes but it's very unlikely. In the unlikely event that I get killed, I've asked Professor Snape and Mr Malfoy to be your guardians, unless you have any objections to that."

"No James," he said miserably. James lifted his chin.

"Don't worry," he said smiling, "I really don't intend to even get scratched."



* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *



It was during a third year class on Tuesday morning when the tiny Order pin that he wore on the inside of his robes glowed warm for a few minutes to summon him to the battle. He had been waiting for the past week, wearing his tight black shirt and leggings underneath his normal teaching robes, his Order battle robes shrunk and carefully stored in his pocket and his favourite daggers strapped firmly in place, ready for use.

His wand hidden under his desk, James cast a quick glamour on his face to make it appear sickly pale and swayed a couple of times. A few of the students looked concerned.

"It appears that I may need to go and see Madam Pomfrey," he said quietly. "Finish the questions I set you in the library and hopefully I'll be back for your next lesson. Class dismissed."

As soon as they had gone, he cancelled the glamour and went through to the small prep room at the back of the classroom. He quickly stripped and put on his Order robes, carefully saved from his teenage years. Similar to those of a standard Order member, they had crimson sleeves and a crimson sash over the white body. He removed the charm concealing his cropped hair and fitted his mask to his face, twirling his wand in his hand.

"Fawkes!" he called, touching the Order pin. There was a burst of flames and the phoenix appeared. Stuck within the wards, he couldn't afford the time it would take to go to Apparate. "I need a lift."

James took hold of the tail feathers and felt the familiar warmth as they were teleported through space to the battle site.

The rest of the squadron were there, waiting for him, harsh and unfamiliar in their crisp white robes, wands drawn, standing tensely in the prearranged place. Around them, James could hear the noise and shouting of a battle in progress, the hiss of Dark curses in the air. Strangely, he felt comfortable, at home, the adrenaline pumping into his blood. He was in his element here.

As they appeared, half a dozen wands were pointed at him, quickly dropped. A few of the others swallowed choked tears and exclamations, looking at him in Harry's style of robe, with Harry's hair, Harry's style of movement on a man who seemed practically a stranger to them.

"Thank you, Fawkes," James said, then turned his attention to his fighters, his small command to give them the instructions that they knew but he needed to say to reassure himself that he'd done all that he could to keep them safe. "Stay together, don't take unacceptable risks. You all have a few portkeys, give them to any wounded victims. Should you be wounded yourselves and your movement hampered, activate your emergency portkey immediately, I refuse to risk anyone needlessly and fighting with a gaping wound is dangerous and foolish. Ron, Hermione, you're in charge of driving away any Dementors, should there be any, since you two have the strongest Patronus. Bill, if possible, take out the vampires. Hestia, you're with him, take up a position on the fringe on the fighting. The rest of you, stay with me as far as possible. Good luck, everyone, let Merlin's power be with you."

With that, James led them around the house into the fray. As Albus had predicted, a number of people were desperately fighting the twenty or so death eaters that had appeared. They were being forced back, beaten down, but the battle was clearly not going as well for the death eaters as Lucius Malfoy would have liked.

James flung himself into the battle, aware of Ron and Hermione automatically taking positions on either of his shoulders as he cut into the Death Eater lines, the others behind them in an arrow formation. Bill and Hestia taking up a position towards the edge of the fray and sending more complex charms at the small vampire contingent surrounding what was presumably the leader of the attack. They cast only the so-called light curses to disable their adversaries, after all, they weren't death eaters, but it was as effective.

As they made their presence known, James heard a woman shout.

"It's Harry Potter! He's come back to save us!" He smiled grimly, reflecting on the truth in that and pressed grimly on.

James paused, dropped a handkerchief onto a young man's chest as he lay unconscious on the ground.

"Safe Haven," he whispered, the portkey activated and the wounded man vanished. A death eater closed to his left.

"Petrificus Totalus!" he shouted and the man dropped. They were approaching the vampires now.

The dark creatures, startled perhaps by the ferocity of the counter attack by such highly trained forces. James felt a sharp twang in his left arm and in response sent a dagger flying at the death eater behind him, throwing with frightening accuracy.

"Lumos Solarium!" he shouted and those in front of him cried out, blinded and some burnt by the light that radiated from his wand.

"Incendio!" Hermione cast from behind him.

Bill and Hestia finally got their main curse going and a golden net settled around the vampires: one by one they vanished, apparating to safety, leaving their leader behind. He knew all to well what would happen to him if he failed his master and was determined to try and salvage what he could.

"Avada Kedavra!" he shouted, seeing them approach. James ducked and it passed harmlessly over his head. Good, he wouldn't have the energy to cast that again for a while. The Death Eater was getting more and more frantic. "Protego!" he shouted, perhaps hoping that it would give him time to escape.

"Stupefy," James said, voice icy, charm cutting straight through the flimsy shield and knocking him to the ground.

He paused, looked around. Ron and Hermione were still with him, faithful and reliable as ever. Bill and Hestia were likewise still in their position. Neville was going around the wounded, giving them portkeys to the Hogwarts infirmary. Around the edge of the green, the Aurors were Apparating with the mediwizards with them. Fleur was nowhere in sight.

"Horus!" he shouted, codenames as ever in front of the Aurors, though most of them knew or guessed from their appearance who they were despite the nominal hoods they wore. Bill looked up. "Where's Flower?"

"Wounded, at Hogwarts," came the prompt reply. Nothing serious then, Bill had no doubt been keeping a close eye on his wife.

James sighed, relieved and turned to his companions.

"We're done here, I think," he said, taking into account the calmness in the disorderly field. A hand signal later, Hestia and Bill had vanished. James and the Weasleys went over to Neville who took his hand in a firm shake.

"Well fought," Neville said, a self-satisfied look on his face, "Commander."

"You too," James said, acknowledging the other man's skills. This was more than acceptance, this was formal recognition of his status in the Order, very reassuring to have. "The battle's over, the Aurors can take it from here. Are you wounded?"

"A couple of cuts, Ginny can help me with them. I'll not bother Madam Pomfrey."

"Go on then," James said, watching him Apparate. He turned to his friends. "You too, unless you need the Infirmary. I'll see you soon, I'm sure."

Hermione hugged him. When they too had gone, James summoned his knives back to him, activated his portkey and returned to Hogwarts, his home. The battle had lasted forty exhausting minutes, shorter than many. Most of the Death Eaters had seemed to be fresh recruits, being blooded in what had been supposed to be an easy fight.

The hospital wing was full when he returned, any headachy students hastily moved back to their own dormitories as the beds were taken up by dirty, blood-covered men and women with gaping wounds in legs and arms, delirious from a curse to the head, drained partly by a vampire. Around them, Poppy Pomfrey, Albus, Minerva and a few seventh year assistants. Severus was absent, presumably hastily brewing the necessary potions that they were about to run out of.

Fleur was in a bed by the door, her leg bandaged but otherwise unhurt. James hurried over, mask still in place. She was under his command, therefore it was his responsibility to check on her.

"Are you okay?" he asked. She seemed a little surprised to see him.

"Yes, thank you, just my leg and that will be healed by morning. The others?"

"All fine. Neville had a few cuts which he'll sort himself, the others uninjured."

"Bill?"

"He saw you leave but didn't seem overly concerned, so I imagine he knew your wound wasn't bad. If he doesn't turn up soon, he'll be waiting for you at home. I'll send him a message to tell him how you are. You fought well today, you got the one who hit you."

She flushed a little at the praise, quickly turning the subject off herself,

"Are you wounded?"

"A few cuts. I'll get a salve for them off Severus. Should you need me, just call."

James smiled and left, nodding to the other Order members as he went. A few of the conscious patients looked at him in wonder, trying to work out how their boy hero had returned from the dead and whether it was indeed him. The mask stayed firmly on.

He made his way down to his own quarters, removed the mask and slowly stripped off the stained, sweaty robes, unstrapping his sheaths. He wet a cloth in the bathroom and carefully cleaned the cut on his arm, making sure there was no dirt before tightly bandaging it. It would wait. He cast a cleaning charm on himself, took a long drink of water and put on a fresh robe and went to see if he could help Severus with anything. There was always chaos after a large battle, as the castle's supplies and staff were stretched to their limits. Even something like preparing potions ingredients would be making a difference.


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