Author's Note: This is the last chapter of this story. It's pretty emotional, so if you're a crier, I recommend having Kleenex handy. It also contains several chunks of italicized flashback dialogue from this story just to show how far the different relationships have come. Quotes from the same memory are grouped together like two lines of the same paragraph to show that they go together. In places where Rowling has given us legit dialogue, I tried to stick as close to it as possible. As for Remus' part, I'm aware it gets a bit cheesy. But somehow it really feels like something he would do, and it makes the ending just a little less sad. So of you don't like it, sorry. Also, before someone fusses at me for using song lyrics, "The Parting Glass" is in the public domain, so I'm clear. And since Karen Gillan is my favorite fan cast for Lily, I decided it would be appropriate to end this with an altered version of a quote about her character in Doctor Who. So here we go. "This is the story of Lily Evans Potter. And this is how it ends."

October 31, 1981

Halloween was a fairly quiet evening at the Potter house. Harry was far too young for trick-or-treating, and their isolation meant that it was out of the question anyway. So the Potters spent the evening much like they did any other. The only sign that this evening was any different was the occasional sound of children in costume running past the house on their way to collect more candy.

James was sitting on the soft rug in front of the living room fireplace. He had his wand out, and puffs of smoke in various colors were erupting from the end. Harry sat in front of James, already wearing his blue pajamas. He was laughing as he tried to catch the smoke in his chubby fists. Evans was absent from her usual armchair, having instead elected to go outside for one of her walks. They would have to remember to let her back in before going to bed.

Lily entered the doorway and halted briefly to take in the sight in front of her. Both her boys safe and happy. A contented smile crossed her face as she watched them. There were some days that being in hiding drove Lily crazy. But there were other times when she actually enjoyed it. Their family was together, and they were safe. So long as they remained inside these walls, the war beyond was powerless to touch them. Sometimes Lily decided she wouldn't mind being cooped up in this cottage for the rest of eternity if it meant more quiet moments like this.

"Alright," Lily said, stepping fully into the living room. "It's time for little boys to go to bed."

James let the sparks from his wand fade.

"Okay, little man," he said to Harry. "You heard your mum. Time for bed."

"Tay," Harry mumbled as he rubbed his eyes. It was the closest he could get to saying "okay."

James scooped Harry up and staggered to his feet before passing Harry into Lily's waiting arms. Then James stretched, yawning and dropping his wand onto the couch as he did so.

"I think it's Dad's bedtime too," Lily said with a grin. Harry giggled.

"Do I get a bedtime story?" James asked, making his beast pleading face.

"Yes!" Harry cried happily as his hand took hold of Lily's shirt. He loved his bedtime stories.

"Alright," Lily said with a chuckle. "What story are we reading?"

She would never get an answer. At that moment, the front door suddenly exploded open with a deafening crash. It flew off its hinges and slammed into the floor, bringing with it a flood of frigid October air. Lily didn't need to see the gaping hole or the cloaked figure standing there with raised wand to know who it was. Neither did James, who was already running for the doorway.

"Lily, take Harry and go!" he ordered as he dashed into the hall. "It's him!"

Lily didn't question him. She clutched Harry to her and dove for the staircase. Her heart was slamming in her ears as she scrambled up the stairs. She could still hear James yelling below as he skidded across the wooden floor past the kitchen and into the entryway.

"Go!" he was shouting. "Run! I'll hold him off-"

"Avada Kedavra!"

Lily was nearly to Harry's room when James' voice suddenly died midsentence. Her entire body screeched to a halt as the words echoed through her ears. Time seemed to stop as she listened for the thump of his body against the floor. It was a dull, sickening sound that seemed to echo through the house. There was a breath of chilling silence, and then a tidal wave of memories crashed over her.

"What can I say? I'm irresistible."
"More like insufferable."

"Most of the time you're an arrogant fathead."
"Ouch."
"But you can also be a really good person when you want to be."

"What do you want, Potter?"
"For you to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend."
"In your dreams."

"This year you haven't asked me out once. Why?"
"It stopped being a game."

"Then would you go out with me?"
"Try it and find out."

"Are you trying to be romantic?"
"Maybe. Is it working?"
"Maybe."

"I need to do this, Lily. It's the right thing to do."
"Then I'll do it with you."

"Will you marry me?"
"You're asking me this now?!"

"We have a little boy."

"I love you and Harry more than I have ever loved anything in my entire life. I would to anything to keep you safe."

"Lily, take Harry and go!"

According to Muggle psychologists, the first stage of grief was denial. But what came first to Lily wasn't numbness. Instead, there was a terrifying moment of crushing clarity. James was gone. Her husband, her best friend, the father of her child, was dead. It was as if all of the life and light had suddenly been sucked out of the world, and Lily was left staring into an empty void. The scream was already over before she even realized it was coming from her. James was dead. There was nothing left to live for. It was over. Voldemort had won.

And then Harry's little hands shifted against the material of Lily's shirt. That small sensation yanked Lily back to the present. James might be gone, but Harry was still here. Their son was still alive. He was the reason James had given himself up. He was the reason Voldemort had come here at all. To kill their son. And Lily would be damned if she just stood here and let him do it.

She caught the edge of the door to Harry's room, slamming it closed behind her. There was no key in the lock. Where had they put the bloody key?! Lily's hand went instinctively to her back pocket, only to find it empty. Her wand wasn't there. Her blood turned to ice as the realization set in. Voldemort himself was coming up the stairs, and Lily had no wand. Merlin's beard, she had no wand! But she couldn't just stand here and do nothing!

A switch seemed to flip in Lily's brain as dormant Muggle instinct suddenly took over. She switched Harry over to her left arm, and with her right she grabbed the edge of a chair. She practically threw it in front of the door before grabbing a toy bin and doing the same with that. Lily grabbed everything she could get her hands on. She pulled over a set of shelves in front of the door and tossed another toy bin on top. Anything to put more obstacles between Voldemort and Harry. The barricade was hastily constructed, and somewhere in the back of Lily's mind she knew it wouldn't hold. But it was all she could do. There was only one coherent thought in Lily's mind now, one driving force keeping her alive – save Harry.

The door burst open, shattering the barricade, and Lily jumped in shock. Then Voldemort was there. A simple wave of his wand knocked away the flimsy obstacles Lily had put in front of him. Lily dropped Harry into his crib and placed herself directly between him and the door, her arms thrown wide as she stared into the leering face of evil itself. Voldemort's red eyes blazed like the fires of hell.

"Not Harry," Lily begged. "Not Harry, please not Harry!"

"Stand aside, you silly girl," Voldemort said coldly. He motioned with his wand, but no spell came forth to send Lily flying. "Stand aside now."

Lily shook her head fiercely as tears welled in her eyes. She had no wand, no way to fight him off. No weapon left save the shield of her body to be used as cannon fodder in the vain hope that it would somehow save her precious baby boy.

"Not Harry," she pleaded. "Please no. Take me. Kill me instead."

"This is my last warning," Voldemort said in his cruel tone, his jaw tensing in irritation.

"Not Harry!" Lily yelled. She was crying now, though not for fear of her own death. Rather her tears were from fear that she would be unable to save her son. "Please have mercy! Have mercy. Not Harry! Not Harry! Please, I'll do anything-"

"Stand aside," Voldemort ordered. "Stand aside, girl!"

He raised his wand, and Lily knew that this was it. Her life didn't flash before her eyes as she expected. There wasn't time for that. There wasn't even time for her to scream. There was only time for the sickening realization that she was going to die and her precious Harry would be left alone.

A flash of green light filled the room. On the few occasions that Lily had witnessed a killing curse, it had always reminded her of watching someone blow out a candle. One second there was light and life, and the next it was just gone. It was as sudden as a bolt of green lightning. But as the curse left Voldemort's wand, Lily wasn't thinking about any of that. Instead, the last thought to cross her mind was that she had to save her son, even if it killed her.

And then the wind hit the candle. The flame was extinguished in the time it took to snap. Her body hit the floor, a lifeless husk. After twenty-one years of vibrant life, Lily Evans Potter was dead.

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"Wormy?" Sirius called, knocking his knuckles against the door. "You there?"

He pressed his ear against the wood, but there was no sound from inside. That wasn't altogether surprising. Peter was probably in bed at this hour. And he was the soundest sleeper Sirius had ever met. The house could've been burning down around him, and Peter would've slept right through it.

Sirius tried the doorknob, and it turned. The stupid git was always forgetting to lock his doors.

"Wormy, you forgot the door again," Sirius called as he stepped into the rundown apartment. "How many times do I have to tell you to lock it?"

The only answer he received was silence. But there were no signs of struggle anywhere in the grungy apartment. Peter was probably just sleeping in the back.

Sirius stepped over to the flimsy bedroom door and pushed it open without knocking. He already had his mouth opened when he realized the bed was empty. Now that was disturbing.

"Wormtail?" Sirius asked, taking a long look around the room. There was no sign of his friend. He stepped back out into the main room as a frown settled on his face. "Peter? Are you here?"

He ducked his head into the grimy bathroom and then the small kitchen. Both were empty, as was the tiny hall closet. There was no sign of Peter anywhere.

"Peter, this isn't funny," Sirius called.

His wand was in his hand now, and his worry was increasing by the second. Something was wrong. Since becoming Secret Keeper, Peter had been too terrified to leave his hiding spot. Besides, a quick look in his pantry confirmed that it was fully stocked with food. Peter's belongings were all still there, so this excursion hadn't been planned. But it would've taken something truly horrific to drive him out, especially without him telling someone. And there was no sign that the place had been broken into or that any kind of fight had taken place. So what could possibly…

The memory of Sirius' conversation with Lily hit him like a river of ice water.

"Maybe Peter's not the best choice."

"All it takes is loyalty, which he has."
"But what if that's not enough?"

"Peter cracks. He doesn't mean to, but he does."

"Lily, you could've died! He abandoned you to torture!"

"He got scared."

"A Secret Keeper can't be tortured into telling, so the only way the secret gets out is if they give it up willingly."

And just like that, Sirius knew.

"No," he whispered. "No, no, no. Not them. He wouldn't."

For a second Sirius could only stand there, his feet rooted to the floor in shock. Then it was like someone threw a switch. He dove for the door, practically flying across the room. He took the stairs down two at a time. So great was his haste that he missed the last step and fell to the floor. His knees screamed in protest as he pushed himself off the floor, but there wasn't time to stop.

Sirius' prized motorcycle was parked just outside the building. He leaped onto the seat and urged it into the sky, not caring who saw him. All that mattered was getting to the cottage in Godric's Hollow. He had Charmed the bike to go far faster than it should, and most days he never even cranked it up to top speed. But today the fastest speed still felt far too slow.

It seemed to take an eternity of flying through the clouds before the little village came into view. All the while, Sirius could feel his heart slamming in his ears. He brought the motorcycle down toward the street, and already he could tell something was wrong. Half the roof was caved in. Someone big was standing in front of the house. Hagrid. He turned around at the sound of the motorcycle, and Sirius could see little Harry in Hagrid's arms. But James and Lily were nowhere in sight.

The motorcycle touched the pavement, and Sirius braked so hard he nearly flew over the handlebars. The machine had barely even turned off before Sirius's feet touched the pavement. He flung the gate open and staggered to a halt in front of Hagrid. There were fat tears running down the half-giant's cheeks to land in his thick beard.

"What happened?" Sirius demanded, his voice trembling.

"They're gone," Hagrid sobbed. "He killed 'em , he did."

"No," Sirius said with a fierce shake of his head. "No, they can't be dead."

"They are," Hagrid insisted. The blubbering made him even harder to understand than usual. "I jus' got little Harry outta the house. Poor tyke was crying. I reckon he saw it 'appen."

Only then did Sirius see the jagged gash on Harry's forehead. He quickly scanned his godson for other signs of injury. Except for that one mark though, Harry seemed fine. The little boy had been rubbing sleepily at his red eyes, but now he extended his hands to Sirius.

"Pafoo," he said eagerly.

Sirius, however, was far too shaken to respond.

"Stay with him," he ordered Hagrid.

He raced up the walk, ignoring Harry calling after him, and stepped through the gaping hole where the door had once been. He nearly tripped over James in the process. The other wizard had fallen backwards onto the floor. His hands were strangely empty. He had thrown himself at Voldemort without a wand. A human shield trying to buy his wife and child time to escape. His eyes were still wide with that final desperation.

The sight of him lying there so still was like a punch to Sirius' gut. He doubled over with a pained sob, one hand on his knees and the other on his mouth. His eyes were watering almost beyond the point of visibility. It wasn't possible. James Potter was dead. James, who had opened his home to Sirius. James, who had never judged Sirius for his family. James, Sirius' best friend- no, his brother was dead.

It took every ounce of strength Sirius had to make himself step over the body. Lily was nowhere in sight. She must've made it up the stairs with Harry. James had bought her that much. Sirius' legs were shaking as he crossed the floor and began to slowly climb the familiar stairs. Harry's room was at the end of the landing, and the door was standing wide open. Sirius swallowed hard as he stepped inside.

The room, usually so tidy, was a mess. The roof was completely gone, and a few remaining beams of wood were hanging down into the room. A red onesie had caught on one of them and was waving pathetically in the frigid wind. One of the walls was destroyed as well, revealing a gaping hole that led straight through to James and Lily's room. Toys and baby clothes were scattered across the room. Some of the lighter items were still being shifted by the freezing wind ripping through the place. What furniture the room had held was on its side, and some of it even looked burned. All save the crib.

And there on the floor in front of the crib was Lily's body. Her eyes had fallen shut, and were it not for the limp angles of her limbs, she could have been sleeping. Her wand was also notably absent. Debris had rained down around her, leaving a sprinkle of dust in her red hair. She looked so young lying there. Far too young to bear the trials the world had given her. Far too young to be dead.

"Good game. For a girl."
"You too. For a boy."

"We're so good at working against each other, I figured we could do something pretty great if we put our heads together."

"You didn't have to hit him, you know."
"Yeah, I did."

"You're a good person deep down. You just have to believe it."

"I'm pregnant."
"Pregnant? Blimey! Pregnant!"

"Are you the father?"
"I'm her brother. I'm not leaving her."

"Padfoot and Lightfoot. I like it."

Sirius' eyes were blurring again as he crossed the floor and dropped to his knees beside Lily's body. He reached out a white and trembling hand to touch her face. It was the touch of his finger to her cold cheek that finally snapped what remained of his resolve. Sirius broke. He leaned forward until his forehead was nearly touching the wooden floor as anguished sobs began ripping their way from his lungs. James and Lily were gone. His two best friends in all the world, the brother he had never had and the sister he had never known he wanted, were dead.

And Peter had betrayed them.

Sirius lifted his head toward the heavens as a scream of primal rage left his lips. Peter had done this. He had destroyed James and Lily. And for what? To save his own skin? Did his friends truly mean so little to him? They had trusted him with their lives, and he had thrown them away like garbage.

And then the knife in Sirius' heart twisted still further. It had been his idea to use Peter as the Secret Keeper. This was his fault. Lily and James were dead because of him. Suddenly Sirius couldn't breathe. He stared down at Lily, his cheeks damp with tears that were beginning to freeze. She had known this would happen. She had known Peter would crack. She had tried to tell them, and they had convinced her that she was wrong. Why the bloody hell hadn't they just listened to her?!

"I'm sorry," Sirius choked. "I'm so sorry."

Lily's still form didn't answer. Sirius' burning eyes drifted to her feet where Harry's favorite blanket had slid out of the crib. Merlin's beard, Harry! James and Lily might be dead, but Harry was still alive. And Sirius was his godfather. Sirius forced himself to take a deep breath and let it out. His godson needed him. He owed this to Lily and James.

Sirius picked up the blanket and pushed himself to his feet. Once he was standing on shaky legs, he swiped his sleeve across his damp cheeks. Then he looked down at Lily one last time.

"Forgive me," he whispered.

He turned around and stepped back out onto the landing. His heart was in his throat as he made his way back down the creaky stairs. It was a short walk back toward the gaping hole where the door had been. Sirius paused again when he reached where James had fallen. He felt that he should say something, but he had no words. Instead he just swallowed hard and stepped over the body to the door.

Hagrid was still standing outside with baby Harry. The little boy was quietly sucking his thumb, completely oblivious to what had happened to his parents.

"I should've been here," Sirius said angrily as he reached Hagrid. "I could've stopped this."

"You would've died righ' with 'em," Hagrid said, his voice still watery. He sniffed loudly. "There's nothin' you could've done. No' with Voldemort out ter kill 'em."

"I could've tried," Sirius insisted.

"It's no use now," Hagrid said sadly. "We have ter go on withou' them. Make them proud."

Sirius looked over at Harry nestled in Hagrid's arms. His eyes were beginning to slide closed.

"Give him to me," Sirius said, holding out his arms. "I'm his godfather. I'll take him."

"I can' do that," Hagrid said with a shake of his big head. "I've got orders from Dumbledore."

"What's Dumbledore got to do with it?" Sirius asked.

"He says Harry's going ter his aunt an' uncle," Hagrid informed him.

"What?!" Sirius cried in disbelief. "They're Muggles! They can't raise him!"

"Dumbledore's orders," Hagrid insisted in a firm voice.

"To hell with that!" Sirius told him. "I'm Harry's godfather! They wanted me to take him if anything happened to them!"

"You can ask Dumbledore abou' it if you want," Hagrid said sternly. "But I've got my orders."

"Petunia's an arrogant arse," Sirius argued. "And she hates magic! Dumbledore can't honestly think she'll raise him properly!"

"Dumbledore knows wha' he's doing," Hagrid said. "An' with his parents gone, Harry ought ter be with family."

"I am family!" Sirius yelled.

Hagrid's face softened, but he still kept tight hold of Harry.

"I know tha'," he said. "But Dumbledore thinks it's better this way. Harry growing up with two adults. An' his cousin. An' they've got a stable home away from this war business, so he'll be safe there."

Sirius had to admit that Hagrid might have a point there. Still, he could feel his heart melting as he looked at the little boy with James' hair and Lily's eyes. He loved that boy with all his heart. But he was in no position to raise a child. And besides, he had business to finish.

Finally Sirius held out the blanket in his hand to Hagrid.

"Here," he said quietly.

Hagrid took the blanket and carefully wrapped it around Harry. His giant hands dwarfed the little boy, but they were also shockingly gentle.

"You take care of him," Sirius said fiercely.

"I won' be letting nothing happen ter him," Hagrid said in a solemn voice.

Sirius glanced over his shoulder at his beloved motorbike and then back at Hagrid.

"Take the motorcycle," he said quietly.

"Wha'?" Hagrid asked in shock.

"You'll get out of here faster that way," Sirius said around the lump in his throat. "And besides. I won't need it anymore."

"Are you sure?" Hagrid asked.

"Completely," Sirius told him.

It took a minute to get Hagrid situated on the motorcycle and explain to him how it worked. But soon enough, Hagrid was driving it down the street. It took to the air a moment later, leaving the Earth behind in a rumble of thunder. Sirius watched until the motorcycle had disappeared into the night sky. Then he turned around for one last look at the house. The hole in the roof was clearly visible, making it look more like a crumbling wreck than the welcoming cottage Sirius knew. He stared at it for a long moment as he committed every last detail to memory. He needed to find Peter. And once he did, Sirius was either going to kill Peter, which would probably land him in Azkaban, or die in the attempt. Either way, he wouldn't be coming back to this house again.

Satisfied with the image in his mind, Sirius set his jaw. He drew his wand, readying it for a fight. It was time to make the traitor pay.

He tightened his hand on his wand and Apparated, leaving behind an empty house with nothing but the wind whistling through it.

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Peter had been crouched in the bushes for some time. When the Dark Lord hadn't returned, he had known something was wrong. He had Apparated to the street in Godric's Hollow only to find Hagrid there with baby Harry. Seeing the collapsed roof and the baby alive had been enough for Peter to know that the Dark Lord was at best defeated and at worst dead. His breath had rushed from his lungs as terror set in. His only solace in betraying the Potters had been that at least he would be safe under the Dark Lord's protection. But now… Now even that small comfort might be gone.

He had been on the verge of approaching Hagrid under the guise of asking what had happened when he heard a thundering roar that he knew all too well – Sirius' motorcycle. That sound had frightened Peter even more than the Dark Lord's defeat. Sirius knew he was the Secret Keeper. He was too smart to mistake what had happened. So Peter had remained hidden in the shadows and shrubs down the street while he waited.

Finally Hagrid and Sirius both left. Still Peter waited just to be sure he truly was alone. Finally convinced, he emerged from the shadows and crept toward the house. He had to get inside and see for himself. He had to know what had happened to the Dark Lord. Only then could he plan his next move.

The cottage's door had been blown in and was flat on the floor. James was lying dead just beyond, the heels of his still shoes nearly touching the top of the door. Peter stumbled to a halt at the sight. He had known James was dead. He had known it was coming even before arriving at the house. But seeing him here like this, the boy who had accepted him so readily and had treated him as an equal, the young man Peter had looked up to so fiercely, seeing his friend dead was a shock. The dead eyes seemed to be staring up at him in accusation. And then Peter realized James had no wand. James had thrown himself at the Dark Lord with no defense to try and save his son. A Gryffindor to the end.

And Peter was a coward.

"But what if I crack?"
"You won't."

Sour bile rose in the back of Peter's throat. He turned around and was violently sick in Lily's flowerbed. His legs were shaking so badly he had to grab the side of the cottage to remain standing. He had done this. He had killed them. James and Lily had trusted him with their lives, with their son's life. And Peter had betrayed them. He had given them up in a feeble attempt to save his own skin. The Sorting Hat had been wrong. He wasn't brave. He was pathetic and weak. And they had trusted him anyway. They had believed in him. And in return, he had handed them over to the slaughter.

Peter forced himself to stand up and go back inside. He had to get upstairs. He had to know what had happened to the Dark Lord. He fixed his eyes firmly on the stairs, pointedly not looking at James as he stepped over his friend's body. There wasn't time for that now. The lights in the house had gone out, leaving only the flickering firelight casting strange shadows across the room. Peter's knees were trembling as he climbed the creaky stairs. Bright moonlight was streaming into the hallway from Harry's room at the end. Cold air shot through the landing as the wind finally breached the cottage's broken defenses. Peter hesitated on the threshold, mentally bracing himself. Then he stepped inside.

The room was in utter chaos. Debris was everywhere – exploded rafters, broken toys, shredded clothing, splintered furniture. And there on the floor was Lily's body. She looked so peaceful lying there. Peter swallowed hard as the familiar surge of affection shot through him. Lily had always been so kind to him. She had looked after him like an older sister, listening to him and encouraging him. Her faith in him had always made him braver.

"I'm Lily, by the way."
"Peter. Peter Pettigrew."

"You've got courage somewhere in there. You just have to find it."
"You think so?"
"I know it."

"And for what it's worth, you've got me too."
"That's actually worth a lot."

"So you wobbled. You got it straight in the end. That's what matters."

"You're not a coward, Peter. You're a Gryffindor."

"I trust you."

The unbidden memories were too much. Peter fell to his knees as tears spilled down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I'm so sorry! I didn't want to tell him. I never wanted to hurt you. But I was so afraid. I didn't want to die! I didn't want you to die either. I swear, I didn't! But it was the only way! The only way, Lily. You have to believe that!"

He put his hands on top of his head, tearing at his hair as quiet sobs wracked his body. His chest felt as though it were being torn apart by the force of his grief. But even as he wept, he knew it was too late. There was no coming back from this. No forgiveness was possible for what he had done, no redemption was capable of cleansing him. He had saved his life at the price of his soul.

The brutally silent sobs didn't last nearly as long as Pete expected. Maybe because all of his grief and regret came flooding out in one violent but mercifully quick burst. But whatever the reason, his tears began to slow as his senses slowly returned. He lifted his head, the cold tears drying on his cheeks. There would be time for this later. Right now, he had to learn what had happened to the Dark Lord. There was no body in the room, so it was possible that the Dark Lord had fled. Although how Harry had managed to survive with both his parents dead was a mystery. Surely the boy was too young for the prophecy to have taken effect. Maybe some final protective spell of Lily's had managed to wound the Dark Lord. But then why had he not killed Harry? Not that Peter wanted the boy dead. He didn't. But his continued existence spelled trouble for the Dark Lord and his followers.

Another sharp gust of wind shot through the room, and Peter tucked his arms tighter around himself in an effort to conserve warmth. The air current caught the edge of a blanket on the floor and threw it back. Underneath was the end of a wand. Peter's eyes widened as he slowly pulled the wand out. He knew this wand. This was the wand that had killed Dorcas Meadowes. The Dark Lord would never have left it behind. He relied far too much on its power. For it to be lying here abandoned could mean only one thing – the Dark Lord was dead.

A brief rush of exhilaration rushed through Peter's chest before being drowned in a flood of horror. If the Dark Lord was dead, then Peter's protection was gone. There was no one left for him to hide behind. By now, Hagrid would doubtless have informed Dumbledore of the night's events. Soon they would all know what he had done. But Peter might yet stand a chance. No one but Sirius knew of his part in this. Peter simply had to deal with him before he could tell someone. Killing Sirius was out of the question. James and Lily's blood might be on Peter's hands, but he hadn't committed the final act himself. Betraying was one thing. Killing, however, was something he just wasn't capable of. It took a certain amount of guts that Peter simply didn't have. But there were other ways. He could frame Sirius. Dumbledore still thought Sirius had been the Secret Keeper. Peter could use that to his advantage. But he would have to act quickly.

His gaze fell on Lily's closed eyes as the plan began to take shape in his mind.

"I know what you'd say," he said quietly. "That it's time to be brave and stop wobbling. But it's too late. Sirius will kill me if I don't stop him first. I'm committed now. There's no way out but forward."

Lily's body gave him no response. But even in death, Peter could still feel her disappointment. And it crushed him. She would never have forgiven him for this, he knew. If she had lived, she might have even killed him herself. Lily Potter, the woman who forgave him for abandoning her to the Cruciatus Curse, would have finally given up on him. And that hurt even more than her death.

But there was nothing to be done for it. This wobble couldn't be undone. Peter had finally cracked too far this time, and now he had to live with it. So live with it he would. No matter what it cost him, he was going to live. That was why he had surrendered the Potters, after all. So he could live. And if that made him a coward, then so be it. At least he would be a live coward.

Peter headed back down the stairs, the Dark Lord's wand still in his hand. He stopped by James' body long enough to close his friend's eyes. It wasn't much, but it was all he had. Although in truth, Peter wasn't completely sure if he did it more as some feeble effort to give James peace or simply so he didn't have to see the betrayal lurking there. Either way, he did it. Then he set his jaw and straightened his back. He didn't have time to be sentimental now. He had to get to Sirius before someone else did.

He stepped over the fallen door and out into the cold night, refusing to look back as he made his way down the short walk. The gate was still standing wide open when he reached it. The short fence it hung on marked the edge of the protective spells around the cottage and small yard. Peter stepped out onto the sidewalk where he hesitated briefly. In spite of himself, he glanced back over his shoulder at the cottage that had become so dear to him. Its ruined state seemed an apt metaphor for the wreck his life had become. But there was no going back now. Peter had made his bed. Now it was time to lie in it.

He closed his eyes and Apparated.

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It was Remus who arranged James and Lily's funeral. James had no family left, and Lily's sister was too upset to have anything to do with the world that had killed her sister. So planning the funeral fell to Remus, now free of his cover. He decided to lay the Potters to rest in the cemetery of Godric's Hollow. The village had become their home over the last two years. They would want it to be there. A light dusting of snow fell the night before the funeral, casting an eerily peaceful air on the cemetery. Those who came were all bundled in coats and scarves and mittens as they tried to ward off the chill.

Attendance at the funeral was relatively low. Remus had kept it under wraps as best he could so the papers wouldn't be there covering it. Half the wizarding world would probably have turned up if they had known. Less than a week since their deaths, and James and Lily Potter were already becoming legends. But their funeral was not the place for adoring fans. It was a time for friends to mourn their passing. Unfortunately, there were precious few of them left. Sirius was in Azkaban for killing the Potters. Peter had been blown to bits by Sirius. Marlene was dead. Frank and Alice had been tortured into insanity and probably didn't even remember who the Potters were. Dorcas was dead. The Prewett brothers were dead. Benjy was dead. Edgar was dead. Caradoc had disappeared, and no one had the slightest idea where he was. And Moody was in St. Mungo's after losing his eye in a duel with a Death Eater and had not yet been deemed recovered enough to leave.

That left a rather pitiful group at the graveside that cold November morning. Dumbledore had brought Hagrid and several of the Hogwarts professors with him. It was the only time Remus had ever seen McGonagall cry. Professor Slughorn was completely beside himself. Mary MacDonald was also there with her Muggle-born fiancé. Emmeline was present as well, along with Sturgis Podmore, Dedalus Diggle, and Elphias Doge. Mundungus Fletcher was notably absent, but Remus hadn't really expected anything less. Bathilda Bagshot had also come to see the Potters buried. She had developed a great fondness for the small family during their time in hiding. But aside from a small handful of old school friends and the few villagers who had known the Potters, that was the extent of the funeral party.

The service itself was fairly short. Dumbledore said a few words, and so did Remus. Then the caskets were lowered into the ground. A joint headstone had been carved with magic. It was elegant but simple, bearing James and Lily's names, birthdays, and the day they died. Written across the bottom of the stone was the phrase "The last enemy that shall be defeated is death." That had been Dumbledore's addition. It was probably meant to be comforting, but it did little to ease Remus' grief.

When the ceremony ended, the small group of mourners all made the rounds with everyone shaking hands and offering their consolations to everyone else. Several of them had kind words to offer Remus, and McGonagall even hugged him. But one by one they began to trickle away back to their lives. Because they all had lives. They had families and jobs to return to and a bright future to plan for. But Remsus had none of that. His closest friends were all either dead, missing, insane, or in prison. His parents were gone, no job would take him, and the future was looking like one giant stretch of loneliness. The rest of the wizarding world was busy celebrating the end of the war, and Remus was standing alone in front of a tombstone selfishly wishing it hadn't ended.

He shoved his cold hands into his jacket pockets as he stared down at the stone in front of him. It seemed so strange to think that the sum total of a person's entire life could be boiled down to a tiny mark between two dates. That was it. They had lived, and they had died, and this was all that remained.

Then again, maybe that wasn't all. There were still the memories that they had left behind, lingering ghosts in the minds of those they had known. And maybe in some way their lives carried on like that. Only Remus didn't want ghosts of smiles past. He wanted his friends back. He wanted to hear James laugh and see Lily smile, wanted to feel an arm around his shoulders and another linked through his as they silently assured him that he was indeed welcome here. But he would never hear or see or feel those things again. James and Lily were gone. And Remus had no idea how to let them go.

"I'm Lily Evans. We're in the same house."
"Remus Lupin."

"I've never had a friend."
"Never? Well, you can be mine."

"You're a good person, and I'm proud to be your friend."

"James may be my best friend, but you, Lily Evans, are my hero."

"Stop letting your fear hold you back. You're a werewolf. Get over it."

"You come back to me, Remus Lupin. You hear me? You come back."

Those were the last words Lily had ever said to him. At the time, they had both thought he was the least likely to come home. But fate was a fickle thing, and instead it was Lily lying in the ground. Part of Remus blamed himself for that. He should've seen this coming. Sirius had changed during the war, becoming more aggressive and angry. Remus had thought the accusations Sirius threw his way were just the result of battle-induced paranoia. But it turned out Sirius had just been trying to cover his tracks. And Remus had been his intended scapegoat. Why hadn't Remus seen it? He knew why, of course. Because for all his faults, Sirius was Remus' friend. Or at least he had been. Because it had never occurred to Remus that one of the Marauders could betray the others. They were brothers. But now that bond was broken, their brotherhood destroyed from within. Remus should've seen it. The signs had all been there, but he had overlooked them. And now James and Lily were gone. The sweetest witch and the bravest wizard Remus had ever known were cold and dead in the ground.

He stared down at the headstone in silence as he tried to figure out how to say good-bye to two of the most precious people in his life. Good-byes were something Remus had never really had to deal with. He'd never really been close enough to anyone for it to matter. No one but his parents. Their loss had nearly torn him apart. And now here he was saying good-bye to two of his closest friends. Only it wasn't just them he was mourning. It was also Peter and the boy that Sirius had once been. It was an entire way of life that had been taken from him over night. The headstone in front of him represented all of it. How could he possibly let that go? No matter how he tried, he couldn't find the words.

As the cold began to work its way through his coat, Remus finally gave up. He would never be able to find the words to do justice to James and Lily. They had known what he was, and they had loved him anyway. He would never be able to express just how much that meant to him. So maybe he should stop trying and let someone else do it. There was a particular song that James loved that had always been the last song sung at any large gathering of their friends. Remus had never been much for singing, but the words seemed achingly appropriate now.

He cleared his throat, which sounded like thunder in the quiet cemetery. Then he opened his mouth and began to sing in a quiet tenor voice with just the slightest hint of a scratchy undertone.

"Of all the money that e'er I had, I spent it in good company," he sang softly, staring down at the gravestone. "And all the harm that e'er I've done, alas it was to none but me."

From the depths of his memory, James' dulcet tones rose up singing the words as the bespectacled young man quietly strummed on his guitar. The last time Remus had visited the cottage before heading north, he and James had sung the song together while Lily sat on the sofa with Harry in her lap and a smile on her face. For a moment, it was almost as though Remus were back there.

"And all I've done for want of wit to memory now I can't recall. So fill to me the parting glass. Good night, and joy be with you all."

Remus' voice slowly began to gain strength as the wind added the ghost of Sirius' deliberately exaggerated falsetto and Peter's squeaky, off-key voice that continually cracked as it tried to deepen. The four boys had sung this song so many times in their dorm after James first got his guitar. They had even performed in the snowy courtyard fourth year, a surprisingly harmonized quartet serenading passing girls.

"Fill to me the parting glass, and drink good health whate'er befalls. Then gently rise and softly call, 'Good night, and joy be to you all!'"

The voices faded, and instead Remus was hearing Lily on her sixteenth birthday with Marlene and Mary in The Three Broomsticks. Their joyous mood and a slight excess of Butterbeer had resulted in them bursting into song. Lily had belted out the words, her beautiful voice intentionally deepened for comical effect, while Marlene's crisp alto and Mary's smooth soprano had loudly carried on beside her.

"Oh, all the comrades that e'er I had, they're sorry for my going away! And all the sweethearts that e'er I had would wish me one more day to stay!"

The voices of the Marauders joined in as Mary was replaced by Frank and Alice's perfect harmony, just as they had sounded that first post-graduation Christmas at the Potter house. Remus could feel his eyes watering and his throat tightening painfully as he sang along the next few words. They had never meant so much to him as they suddenly did in this moment.

"But since it falls unto my lot that I should rise and you should not, I'll gently rise and I'll softly call, 'Good night, and joy be to you all!'"

More voices piled in as the chorus grew to include almost the entire Order on New Year's Eve as they bid farewell to 1979. They were a series of varied voices that somehow came together to form a proper choir topped by Dorcas and Emmeline's dueling sopranos, at least until they were both swallowed by the craggy depths of Hagrid's jovially off-key bass.

"Fill to me the parting glass, and drink good health whate'er befalls. Then gently rise and softly call, 'Good night, and joy be to you all!'"

The voices began to fall away then, leaving only four boys and two girls who had snuck out onto the grounds of Hogwarts to quietly bid the school farewell on the last night of their seventh year.

"Fill to me the parting glass and drink good health whate'er befalls. Then gently rise and softly call, 'Good night, and joy be to you all.'"

The remaining ghosts faded as well, carried away by the wind. They left behind a lone young man of twenty-one with tattered fingerless gloves, a worn coat, a badly knit scarf, and a single tearstain that was beginning to freeze. Remus swallowed hard, his strained voice nearly cracking as he managed to get out the final words in a near-whisper.

"Good night, and joy be to you all."

His voice faded with the wind, and then there was only silence in the cemetery. It was broken as Remus sniffed loudly. He reached up to wipe his damp cheek with a gloved hand before fiercely swiping at his nose. This was it. He'd said his piece. Now it was time to go. But still he lingered, staring down at the stone, unable to make himself leave the last remnant of his former life. Unable to walk away from two of his closest friends. Lily had been there before anyone else. And then James had made sure there would always be someone else. Only now there wasn't. They were gone, and with them all of the hope and light that they had brought into his life. Part of Remus wished he had died with them. But he hadn't. He was still alive, and he had to find a way to keep going. As much as it pained him, he knew that was what they would've wanted. It was the only way he had to honor their memory.

But that required leaving the cemetery. After one last look at their names carved so elegantly into the stone, Remus forced himself to turn away. With heavy feet and a heavy heart, he plodded slowly back down the row toward the entrance to the tiny cemetery. His boots crunching against the fresh snow were the only sound amid the sea of silent stone markers.

When he reached the entrance to the cemetery, Remus paused to look back in the direction of James and Lily's tombstone. He was surprised to find Lily's voice suddenly echoing inside his head.

"You have to find a way to live your life, to be happy. You deserve to be happy, Remus."

In spite of everything, the corner of Remus' mouth tugged slightly upward in a sad smile.

"I'll try, Lils," he said softly. Somehow he had a feeling that would've been good enough for her.

Remus took one last look at the snow-dusted headstone at the far end of his footprint trail. Then he turned away and began walking down the small cobblestone road. Maybe Lily had been right. Maybe there was still some happiness waiting for him somewhere out there. He had just to find it.

That's what Lily would have wanted.

So there it is. The end of this story. Before you go, please take the time to leave one final review letting me know what you thought. And thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, or followed this story. You made it a real joy to work on. If you like my writing, feel free to check out my profile and see if any of my other stories look interesting. I only have one other HP story so far (a one-shot about the Black family), but I'm toying with ideas for others. If you want to be notified of my future projects, be sure to follow me. And thanks again for taking the time to read this story. "Good night, and joy be to you all." :)