The morning of July 31st, 1980 was an agonising one. Nobody had ever told Lily Potter that childbirth would be easy, but they’d never said it would be this hard either. The screams that she simply couldn’t keep quiet smashed the eerie silence of Godric’s Hollow, her breaths escaping from her in ragged gasps, red hair damp with sweat.

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“I think he’s on to me, Prongs.”

Sirius didn’t need to say the name for James to understand. The messy-haired wizard bit his lip in response and lifted his head, staring at the ceiling so he could gather his thoughts against the blank, off-white colour. 

“We need to switch.” Sirius said quickly, not understanding why his voice was suddenly a croak. “Prongs - if they get me… I’d never be able to forgive myself if I - if they…”

He couldn’t finish his sentence. His mind began to replay the chilling nightmares he endured every night - Death Eaters capturing him, forcing Veritaserum down his throat, him telling Voldemort the whereabouts of the Potters, his face blank and hollow, perhaps even cheery…

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“No, James.”

James sighed dramatically, his head sinking into the pillow. 

“We’ve got class in half an hour.”

Hazel irises glanced over her face as she desperately tried to keep herself together, flitting quickly over where her naked body was, covered by one half of his duvet. She couldn’t help biting her lip at that; he’d seen her bare form plenty of times (they’d been going out for nine months, after all), but right now, the duvet was the only thing stopping her from jumping onto him right there and then.

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First year brought her intense nerves, him a new surge of life. She wore simple single-strap shoes and a neat set of Hogwarts uniform. He was the opposite, his shirt untucked and rumpled from the off, no matter how laboriously the house elves back home ironed it. He exuded wealth and pampering, of well-made clothes and noble blood, whilst she gave off waves of modesty and sweetness, standing beside the greasy-haired best friend who narrowed his eyes as soon as they locked onto the boisterous youth thundering past them into a train compartment.

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James Potter’s eyes flashed dangerously.

“My son, Peter. My son.”

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Footsteps. A merciless smash as the door was blown off its hinges. The messy haired wizard only thought of one thing as the last of his wife’s red hair whipped around the doorway, rushing their baby to safety.

Lily… Harry…

He ran to the opposite side of the room, towards the smash, the hooded figure standing in the quaint doorway.

Lily and Harry - no wand - fourth time unlucky.

A cackle. A wand pointed at his chest as he blocked the stairs that led to his family, the one thing that he would protect over anything else. A screamed curse.

The last thing James Potter saw was a flash of green light.

“I have to leave.” Lily felt her stomach lurch, butterflies creeping up towards her throat. It was not a good feeling.

“What?” Marlene responded drowsily, having just been shaken out of a nap by the anxious redhead. She lifted her head up from her arms, locks of wavy blonde hair haphazardly settled into a sleep-induced nest. “Why?”

“I just… I just need to, Marlene. Seriously.” Lily turned deathly pale, glancing worriedly behind her, green eyes flickering to a cluster of desks at the back of the classroom.

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“What… what do you mean I’m not a bridesmaid anymore?” 

“I thought you were normal, Lily. Now I know that you’re… that you’re one of them. A freak. Why you haven’t been put into a mental institution yet, I don’t know…”

Lily bit back tears, sweeping a sheet of long, dark red hair away from her face. She tried keeping her voice level, but failed miserably, her sentences cracking.

“But.. but, please, I have to be a bridesmaid at your wedding, I’m your sister! Please, Tuney-“

“Don’t call me that.” Petunia snapped immediately, narrowing her blue eyes as they glared coldly into the green ones before her. “That’s… that’s just - no.”

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Professor Slughorn knew that something was seriously wrong once Lily Evans skipped a class.

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James’ eyes cracked open to witness the cheerful midday light streaming in through the dormitory windows, the haze of sleep slowly leaving him. He moved to wipe the crusty sleep from his eyes, to grab his glasses from his bedside table, but found that he had been rendered immobile.

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