A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed/favorited/followed the story so far! And a big thank you to everyone for their suggestions! I really do appreciate them and I take them into account. Siriusly. So don't hesitate in sending me any suggestions, if you have any.

This is like a sort of continuation from last Chapter, I guess. I was going to go ahead and post it last time, but I thought it killed the flow of the chapter, so I cut it in half. I don't mean to drag all this PTSD, but it is a war and I'm trying to be as realistic as possible. But I think I'm going to cut back on it a bit and stop giving it so much focus because I made myself cry while writing this.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or Danger Mouse, which I make a reference of somewhere in the chapter, for those of you who catch it.

Chapter 5: Learning to Cope

"Are you sure this is all necessary?" James huffed under the weight he was carrying.

Lily smiled as she turned to look at him, momentarily extracting herself from her task.

"Yes, I want everything to be perfect for Harry's first Christmas. And the decorations are important."

James rolled his eyes as he set the box by her feet. "He's only one, love. He won't remember much."

"But I will," Lily responded matter-of-factly, looking through the box James had brought her. Nope, nothing there except a few photographs that seemed to be of him when he was smaller; she would definitely have to look through them later. Not that she wanted to tease him with them or anything. "Be a dear and pass me that box, will you?" she asked sweetly.

James sighed, muttering under his breath something about 'House-elves' and 'bossy wives'. They were in the attic, sorting through the dozens of boxes that still needed unpacking—and would continue that way, until James got it through his fathead that she wasn't invalid, just pregnant—for the Christmas decorations she had brought from her parents' house and others that belonged to the late Potters and which were proving to be rather interesting.

She smiled, her eyes lingering over a picture of a baby James playing with what appeared to be a toy dragon. She looked up, to find her own son laughing gleefully as he played with the assortment of James' old toys; it astounded her, how much Harry looked like his father, when he had been James' age.

She sighed dreamily, wondering who this new baby would take after as she reached for the box James had set on top of an old trunk. She frowned as she examined it; it was bounded, messily she noted, all over with Spellotape.

She moved to tear the Spellotape away, before James' voice stopped her.

"Wait!"

She turned to look at him, arching her eyebrow. "What?"

"Don't open that one!"

She only smirked at him as she returned her attention to the box. "Why? Is this where you kept your PlayWizard magazines?" she asked teasingly as she tore open the box. James sighed and she could feel her smirk fall as the box fell open.

And she felt like Pandora, opening the box, everything she had desperately been trying to escape hitting her at full force. Because there, staring at her from out of the box where the smiling faces of Peter and Dorcas and Mary.

She recognised the photograph, remembered the exact day it had been taken. It was in their seventh-year, during James' first Quidditch match. She spotted herself, between Dorcas and Mary, their faces painted red and gold in support of Sirius and James and Marlene, who were all playing for Gryffindor—even if Mary was a Ravenclaw—and the yellow and black scarf for Alice, who was the Hufflepuff Seeker.

And she felt her eyes sting as she shifted through the rest of the photographs, both Muggle and wizard, because she just couldn't stop herself, even if it hurt.

There was one of Emmeline and Dorcas, during their third-year, sticking out their tongues at whoever was behind the camera-Lily vaguely remembered it had been her-and one of Lily and Remus, their prefect's badge glistening in the morning sun. Peter looked glumly up at her from one, lying miserably in the infirmary bed, from a prank gone wrong, she remembered, while he grinned widely from another one, Remus and James and Sirius standing next to him.

And there was one of her and Mary, who seemed to have taken a liking to her during their third year, when Lily had told off the boys that had been teasing her. She moved on to another one of Sirius and James, laying lazily on the floor of the Gryffindor common room as Remus and Peter crept up on them, a box of Zonko's Best Itching Powder in the latter's hand, before looking down at one of Marlene and her in their seventh year, twirling around in the rain and laughing, while a confused James and Sirius looked on at them.

She couldn't help the sob that escaped her, because there it was again, the guilt of somehow having survived as her eyes came to rest on a particular picture, because they were all there, James and Lily and Sirius and Marlene and Dorcas and Remus and Peter and Mary and Alice and Emmeline, grinning widely. They were all in their graduation robes, the Black Lake gleaming peacefully behind them and they all looked so innocent and happy, with a world of possibilities waiting for them, long before the war had torn them apart.

Her eyes watered as someone pulled her into a warm embrace and she took in the familiar scent of James' cologne and grass and wood and the faintest traces of mint toothpaste.

"It'll be okay," he whispered into her ear as she looked down at the photograph in her hand.

But how could it be okay, when they were dead?

She had tried, she really had, to be positive and continue on with her life because she now had three reasons to live. And she had thought she had gotten better at it, at dealing with her guilt about somehow having survived the war, after that impromptu visit to the clinic. But she hadn't apparently, because it was back, at full force now, the guilt, that bloody guilt that was eating at her because how could anything ever be okay again when so many people had died?

"I-is that what this is all about?" James asked softly and Lily looked up at him, not realising she had said the words out loud. "That you feel guilty?"

And how could she pretend it wasn't what it seemed, when he'd know she was lying?

She nodded slowly and James sighed, pulling her tighter against his chest while she wept. They stayed like that for a while, James rubbing soothing circles across her back as her sobs lessened, whispering words of comfort, until the only sound was that of Harry gurgling happily, completely oblivious to it all.

James sighed, pulling away from her slightly, so that he could see her. He placed a hand under her chin, gently lifting it and she looked up at him, his hazel-eyes twinkling behind his round glasses.

"It wasn't your fault," he said firmly. "None of it was. Not the war, not Voldemort, not anybody's death."

She started to protest, because it was her fault, at least Peter's death and Dorcas' too, because they had died trying to protect her, but James silenced her, placing a finger to her lips.

"No, listen to me. It wasn't your fault. Voldemort could have been after anyone; if it wasn't us, it could have been the Longbottoms or the Browns, who I heard had a little girl last July. And we could have died too, y'know? Just as easily it could have been us they buried. But we didn't. We're still here and that's a gift all in itself. Because we have the chance to live our lives with our son." He smiled softly, placing a hand to her abdomen. "And now we have another one on the way. We're a family now, isn't that what you've always wanted?"

He looked back at her then, hazel meeting green as he wiped a stray tear away and she looked at him, desperately searching him because he seemed to hold all the answers and she wanted to know that they would be fine, that everything would be okay.

She found it, the spark of hope and promises for the future lingering in his eyes and she took it greedily as she allowed him to lead her back into his arms, because he could hope for both of them while she remembered how to do it all again.

An eternity seemed to have passed before she felt the absence of those secure arms around her and looked up to see James looking down at the photograph she had been holding moments before. She looked curiously as he extracted his wand and tapped it once, placing the photograph in a beautifully carved frame.

"What are you doing?" she asked softly, dabbing carefully at her eyes with the hem of her sweater.

James looked up, giving her a small smile. "We just can't forget about the people who gave up so much, can we?"

And it made sense, really, not to place them back in the box, as if they were a past they were desperately trying to forget when it was thanks to them that they had a future, Lily thought to herself as James placed the last picture onto their Christmas tree. Because, as James explained, Christmas was a day of giving and it only seemed fair to honour the people who had given so much on this day.

It was nice to be out of the house on days like this, Lily marvelled to herself, as she passed by a shop full of white dresses. It was cold outside, the kind that bites your cheeks until they redden but is somehow pleasant all the same, and it was snowing lightly, covering the streets of Muggle London in a fragile blanket of whites as happy families bustled from store to store, contributing to the holiday cheer that seemed to fill the air.

All around it reminded her of Christmas, of how it had been before her parents had died, before the war had taken so much away from her. She had been reluctant to come, but James had convinced her, because she really needed a distraction to keep her mind off things.

"How about that one?" she asked, turning to look at Marlene.

They were out shopping like they had done so many times before, when they had been young and untroubled and innocent, untainted from the horrors of the war.

Only this time, they were shopping for wedding dresses. And it was turning out to be more difficult than Lily had first thought.

"Maybe." Marlene frowned, examining the dress with critical eyes. "You know, I'm not really feeling it."

"Marlene, your wedding is in two weeks," Lily reminded her, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "You need a dress."

"Yeah, well maybe I don't want a dress," Marlene replied haughtily, playing with the ends of her hair.

"Marlene, we've been over this," Alice said, sounding as frustrated as Lily felt. "You need to wear a dress on your wedding day."

"Exactly. It's my wedding day. And I say no dress."

"Why must you be so complicated?" Lily asked in exasperation, rubbing her temple.

"Please, Marlene, can you at least just try it on?" Alice asked, trying to keep her temper under control.

"No," Marlene replied stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Why the hell not?"

"Because I don't want to," the black-haired beauty responded through gritted teeth.

"Just try it on," Alice repeated sternly.

"No."

"Just do it," Lily bit out through clenched teeth; it was getting frustrating, the speed at which the wedding day was approaching and Marlene's stubbornness and the fact that this was the fifth store they passed by and Marlene still refused to try on a dress.

"I said no!"

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know if I want to get married anymore!" Marlene blurted out. Her face turned an alarming shade of red as she turned away from them, obviously furious with herself at her sudden outburst.

Lily said nothing, just stood there in a stunned silence as she regarded her friend and much to her surprise, and Marlene's too, Alice let out a small laugh.

"Is that all? Marlene, every woman goes through that the closer her wedding day. I know I did. Didn't you?" she asked, turning to look at Lily.

Lily hesitated. "I might have."

"You might have?" Alice asked, arching an eyebrow. "Lily, you kept changing your mind every five seconds."

"I did not. It was only once. Or twice. Maybe three times."

Alice smirked, rolling her eyes as she turned back to Marlene. "The point is, we all have those doubts. It's only natural."

"It's not that. It's just that—" Marlene sighed, turning to look at them. She looked on the verge of saying something, before sighing again as she turned away from them again. "Never mind," she muttered to herself.

"Oh, no," Lily said, walking around until she was standing right in front of her best friend. "Now you're going to tell us."

Marlene bit her lip as blue meet green and Lily could tell she was hesitating.

"But can we do it somewhere warm?" Alice asked, pointing to the Muggle café across the street from them. "It's getting kind of cold here."

Lily nodded her agreement and the three friends made their journey across the street, into the small café, where they ordered three cups of hot chocolate. They all sat in silence for a few moments, taking the time to warm up from the biting cold, before Lily spoke again.

"Alright. Spill it."

Marlene let out a small sigh, her hands curling around her cup. "It's stupid, really."

"We won't judge," Alice said with a small shrug.

"It's just that," she hesitated, playing with a strand of her hair like she always did when she was nervous or frustrated.

Lily leaned forward in her seat, placing a hand on Marlene's arm.

"You know you can tell us anything, Marley," she said with a small smile, which Marlene returned, although hers held a hint of her overwhelming sadness.

"I can't stop thinking about Emma," she said softly.

"Oh, Marley," Alice whispered, placing a hand to her lips. Lily felt her heart ache at the mention of six-year old Emma, Marlene's bubbly niece, who had been murdered by Voldemort.

Marlene sighed tiredly, her blue eyes twinkling with unshed tears. "It's just not fair, you know? How she'll never get to do any of this: get married and have children and just grow old. And I will." She paused, taking a deep breath as she stared off into the distance.

"She used to talk about it all the time. Growing up to be like me and marrying her prince charming. And now she's gone and she won't be able to do any of it and it's just not fair, that I'm alive and she's not," she said, closing her eyes as a few tears slid down her pale cheeks and she wiped them angrily away.

"And I might not have been the one who cast the spell that killed her, but I might as well have and what kind of aunt am I, when I couldn't even protect my own niece?" she said as more tears escaped, only this time she allowed them to follow their course. Lily placed her chair closer to her friend's, so that she was able to place a comforting arm around her.

And she didn't know what to say, to make her best friend feel better, only that she knew exactly how she was feeling.

"I didn't want this baby at first," she admitted softly.

"W-what?" Marlene hiccupped, turning to look at her.

"I didn't want this baby," Lily repeated, heaving a great weary sigh. "I know it's a horrible thing for a mother to say, but it's true."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because, Marlene, I know exactly how you feel. I didn't want it, not because I was scared like James thinks, but because I feel like it's more than I deserve, like if I'm pushing my luck, because Peter is dead and so is Dorcas and Mary and—" Lily paused, swallowing the knot forming in the back of her throat. "And I'm alive when I should be the one who is dead, because Voldemort was after me."

"Oh, Lily," Alice whispered. "You know that's not true. He was after all of us."

"I know," Lily said with a small shrug. "It's just how I feel sometimes. Because it doesn't feel fair, that they're dead and they'll never have the chance to get married and form their own families. But then James helped me realise that I was given a second chance and I feel like I owe it to them, to honour their sacrifice." She stopped, turning to look at Marlene. "We owe it to them, to live our lives and be happy because, otherwise, they'd have died in vain."

"Lily is right, Marlene," Alice said softly. "We have to continue on with our lives, because that's what they would have wanted."

"But why must it be so hard, to move on and learn how to live without them?"

"I don't know," Lily sighed. "But nobody said it was going to be easy. We just have to try."

They stayed silent for a moment, observing the people passing by their window doing their shopping, completely oblivious to it all.

She envied that about Muggles, their ignorance and carefree attitudes as if they were invincible and would live forever, because it felt as if she were constantly living on edge now, just waiting for the next attack. It was a consequence of the war, she knew, one that she could definitely live without because, how can you live life in constant fear of being killed?

"Do you think we'll ever be that carefree and happy again?" Marlene asked, resting her head against Lily's shoulder as they observed a happy couple strolling through the streets. They seemed happy in the world of only two and everyone else was forgotten, because it was just them who existed and nobody else mattered.

"Maybe one day," Alice responded wearily. "When many years have passed and the war is only a distant memory and we finally remember how to live without fear. Maybe then, we'll know how to be happy and carefree again."

It was half-past four by the time Marlene had finally Apparated into the small flat she shared with Sirius, the dress she had finally decided on safely in Lily's house because, apparently, it was bad luck if the groom saw it before the wedding. She suspected it was just one of those foolish superstitions Muggles had.

The sitting room was empty, as was the kitchen and Marlene wondered where Sirius could be and whether he was home already. It wouldn't surprise her if he was still in the office doing paperwork; he seemed to be there a lot lately.

Luckily, she found him in the spare room he used as a den, where he kept the Muggle device used for viewing moving pictures, which she refused to allow in the sitting room, because it was just a waste of space anyway.

It astounded her how Muggles could spend hours in front of it, almost to the point of being transfixed by it, as they watched unrealistic—what were they called? TV shows?—that were nothing like real life. Because nothing was ever as rosy and uncomplicated as Muggles seemed to like to fool themselves into thinking. If they were, Emma wouldn't be dead, her parents would still be alive and Voldemort would have never happened.

She stood in the doorway of the room, leaning against it as she peered in. Everything in the room seemed to scream Sirius, from the large, brown leather couch, to the red and gold rug to the large glass coffee table, whose stand was a motorcycle engine and was a classic, or at least, that was what he claimed, although she wouldn't quite say she believed him.

Everything was mismatched and nothing made sense, but it all seemed to work perfectly; oddly it reminded her of their relationship, because man-whore Sirius Black falling for harder-to-get-into-than-the-Auror-department Marlene McKinnon? Now that was an odd combination that not many had ever thought would last.

Yet, here they were, three-years later, still going strong against all odds. Or at least, they had been.

As if sensing her gaze, he turned, giving her that smile that always made her heart melt.

"Hey," she said awkwardly, playing with her hands

"Hey." He held out his hand for her to take, pulling her gently in his direction. "How was your day?"

"Long." She paused, taking a seat next to him. "And boring. I'm dead tired."

Sirius looked sideways at her, giving her his trademark smirk. "I bet. Lily drive you crazy?"

"Crazy doesn't even begin to explain it," she snorted, crossing her arms over her chest. "She had us running up and down Muggle London, looking for a dress. And when that didn't work out, she dragged us to Twilfitt and Tatting's. Twilfitt and Tatting's! Of all places! I swear, I thought I was going to go mad, with all the squeezing into tight, itchy dresses and spinning and squealing…" She huffed, shaking her head. "Remind me again, why did I make her my maid of honour?"

Sirius just chuckled, kissing her temple as he slid an arm around her shoulders. They sat in silence for a moment, Sirius' attention on the show he was watching, something about a white mouse with superpowers, it seemed—seriously, the things Muggles came up with, Marlene thought to herself—before losing her train of thought in more important, serious matters.

She wanted nothing more than to sink into his embrace and sleep, because this pregnancy, toppled with the sob session she had had earlier-they were just the hormones, she reminded herself, which had caused her to soften because Marlene McKinnon would have never been caught dead crying before and in broad daylight, for Merlin's sake-seemed to have taken its toll on her.

But Lily's words, that had been whispered to her as she embraced her before Apparating home, rang clearly in her mind and she knew she was right: she had to talk to Sirius.

And it wasn't just because she was having her doubts, which Lily thought Sirius should now about, but because she suspected he was also, by how distant he had been acting lately and the awkwardness that would sometimes ring between them when the subject of their wedding came up.

"So, did you find it?" Sirius asked suddenly, snapping her out of thoughts.

"Find what?" she asked absentmindedly, turning to look at him.

"The dress." Sirius paused, brushing a strand of hair out of her face "Did you find it?"

"Oh, yeah, it's at Lily's," she said offhandedly, examining his features. Her eyes trailed down his body, from his regal nose and pronounced cheekbones that he hated, because they reminded him of his now-deceased cousin, to the jagged scar in his exposed chest, where his mother's curse had hit him when he expressed his fascination with Muggles at the age of seven, as if that could have beat the 'queerness' out of him.

He simply nodded, turning his attention back to his show. Marlene opened and closed her mouth a few times, not really sure how to go about discussing the subject that was eating at her and she couldn't help but feel a surge of overwhelming dread because what if Sirius didn't want to marry her anymore?

And, somehow, that thought made her eyes sting and she swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the knot forming at the back of her throat as she blinked furiously, determined not to let herself cry. But her efforts were proving to be futile because the torrent of tears were pouring down her cheeks before she could stop them and she must look ridiculous, she knew, crying for no apparent reason—stupid, stupid hormones.

"Hey now," Sirius said, sounding surprised and concerned as he slipped his arms around her, which only caused her sobs to increase. "What's—Marl, what's wrong?" he asked softly, as the familiar scent of his musky aftershave and leather and cigarette smoke mixed with faint traces of Butterbeer and something else, which she could only describe as being so Sirius, invaded her senses. And she lost herself in them, because they had always meant warmth and love and safety.

And it all came out in a flurry, the overwhelming grief over her family's, especially Emma's, death and the guilt that seemed to never leave her and the constant dread that she wasn't the woman he deserved and she hadn't known she felt that way, but it had come out before she could stop it.

Sirius sat through it all in a stunned silence, not moving and not really saying anything, just holding her in his arms as she wept.

"A-and I just feel you so distant now, Sirius," she said in between sobs, "and I don't know if it's because you're still trying to process everything that's happened to us or if you've realised you don't love me anymore."

And that was it, wasn't it, what had been eating at her the most? The dread of finding out that Sirius had realised that he didn't want this—didn't want them—that he wanted to go back to his old ways, when there had been no expectations and no commitments.

She pulled herself away from him, looking earnestly at him, wanting to see his reaction, and fearing it all the same, when she asked him the question that could undoubtedly break them.

And she dreaded it, hearing that answer, because she didn't think she could do it without him by her side if he didn't and she knew it was pathetic and it wasn't feminist enough she could almost hear Dorcas hissing at her, but it was just how it was. Call it love or whatever.

"I-is that it? T-that y-you don't love m-me anymore?"

Sirius sighed heavily, breaking their gaze as he put his head in his hands. "It's not that, Marlene. Merlin, it's not you. Fuck," he muttered under his breath, passing a hand through his hair, before looking up meet her eyes.

Marlene held her breath, her body tensing, because he was going to say it, he was going to give her that ruddy 'it's not you it's me' speech and that he just felt obligated to stay by her side, because of the baby and how could she have been so stupid to think she could actually have her happy ending? Life wasn't like that; hadn't the war taught her anything?

"Merlin," he sighed, as if he were having trouble forming the words and why couldn't he just go and say it? "I love you. I really do. It's not you, trust me. This is about me, about my own insecurities. About not being good enough for you or the baby, about not being able to protect you, when I couldn't even protect my own brother."

All Marlene could do was stare because out of all the things she had expected to hear him say, this was not one of them. And she wanted to reach out to him, to comfort him, but she didn't because she knew Sirius and she knew it was taking a lot from him to admit this to her because Sirius rarely opened up to anyone, even her—although they had made some progress over the years—and she knew he needed his space. So it astounded her when he reached out to her, taking his hands in hers.

He drew circles around her hands with his thumbs soothingly, as if she were the one who needed soothing now, when Merlin knew what Sirius had been going through.

"Every time I close my eyes, I see him, l-looking at me, before the spell hit him. And I'm reminded how I was too late to save him, even though I tried, I really did. And I asked him, I pleaded with him not to go, to wait until I had them all, but he didn't listen. He kept saying how it was the only way to cleanse his soul, but he didn't stop to think, did he? Didn't stop to think what it would do to me, to see my own brother die before my eyes and know that I was too late."

Sirius paused, taking a deep breath as he squeezed his eyes shut and Marlene reached out tentatively to wipe a tear away. He leaned into her touch, his eyes flinging open and Marlene cursed herself, because how could she have missed it? How could she have missed that haunted look lurking behind his grey eyes, when she had seen it dozens of times in her own reflection?

"And now, I'm expected to get married and have children, and I swear it's not you, but I can't help but think how Regulus will never have that opportunity. How he'll never be able to get married and have children, because he's dead and I couldn't save him and I'm just scared that I'll screw this, screw us up, too, when I've already screwed up so much in my life."

He leaned over then, his wrenching sobs filling the air and Marlene felt a pang of sadness pierce through her heart because it was hard to see the man you love so broken. She reached out to him, pulling him into an embrace as she tried her best to soothe him.

"It'll be okay; we'll be okay," she repeated like a mantra for his benefit as well as hers.

Because she needed to believe that they'd pull through this, like the had pulled through everything else: from the shouting matches in sixth-year, when Marlene had decided she was tired of waiting around for Sirius to realise she existed and had started dating, which had somehow infuriated him greatly, even though he had a new girlfriend every other day, it seemed; to the on-and-off relationship they had during seventh-year, which everyone swore would never amount to anything serious; to their major break-up after she had found him snogging a busty blond outside a Muggle bar, which had lasted three months and Marlene swore was for good, until Sirius had shown up on her doorstep one rainy Friday night, wet and reeking of firewhisky and rambling on something about Zeus and two faces and extra limbs and soul mates and how he had found his in her, which hadn't made much sense to her, but could possibly be the most romantic thing Sirius had ever said to her.

And that had only been the relationship side of it, because there was still the bloody war, her family's death, Dorcas' murder, his brother's involvement with Voldemort's crew, which had all certainly done its damage. There were times when Marlene could have sworn they wouldn't make it out of this war intact, but they had, mostly.

Because they weren't completely unscathed. They were broken, she could see that now, and she hated the war, for breaking them like this, hated Voldemort for causing them so much pain and, why not? She hated the world, for being so unfair, for having killed so many innocent people when there were others out there, causing so much pain.

And she wondered when it would all end, because the war was over and Voldemort was dead, but why did it feel like he still had control over their lives?

Somehow she found herself in his lap—she didn't know if it had been her doing, or if it had been Sirius', but there she was, her ear pressed against his chest, taking in the soothing beatings of his heart, his strong arms securely wrapped around her, keeping her close to him.

His body radiated all the warmth and safety and comfort she desperately needed and she might be exactly what he needed, because he gradually relaxed and his sobs lessened, until the only sound was that of cheery music that seemed so out of place and their own breathing.

"We'll be okay, won't we?" she asked softly, pulling herself away from him, so that she could see his face. Because as much as she told herself it would be, she still needed to hear it from him, needed to know that they would make it through this, together.

Sirius looked down at her, his eyes red and puffy, as he reached up to play with a strand of her hair.

"Yeah, we will." He paused, pressing a kiss to her lips. "As long as we have each other, we'll be okay."

A/N: This is for my Guest reviewer: I am definitely going to explore the wizarding world in this story. There's a whole world of possibilities out there and I think I'd get bored really quick if I just stuck to Harry going to Hogwarts. That has been overdone way too many times. I mean, I'll do it, just to show how different it is from the actual story, but I'm thinking more of having him travel the world with his parents-after all, they have the money for it-and meeting different cultures and seeing all the different magical animals and I'm getting excited just thinking about it. So you've got nothing to worry about; I'm keeping it original :)