No one ever said it would be easy.

There's a certain look she's always been able to give her parents, from the time she was about three, that almost guarantees she will get what she's after.

She's sixteen when Professor Snape demonstrates Amortentia to them, and she's not quite sure why it smells to her like worn books, chocolate, tea and a faint undertone of wet fur.

He can argue all he wants; her answer will always be the same.

It may not ever come for her, but she'd be damned if she would let anyone take away her son's tomorrows.

She worries about him all the time, and sometimes all she worries about is whether he ever thinks about her.

The report stops her breath, and her brain feels like it's just had a good hard jolt, because ten people escaped, ten of them, all at once, the worst ten imaginable, and she can tell all the other Aurors are feeling as numb with shock as she is right now.

For the first time in a long time, she's not at a wild Halloween party; instead she's sitting at the kitchen table in #12, Grimmauld Place, passing around a bottle of firewhisky with Remus and Sirius, listening to them tell stories about James and Lily.

She doesn't pretend to be an expert on pain, though she's had far more than her fair share of bumps and bruises and injuries over the years - comes with the territory, being as clumsy as she is - but when he looks at her, his eyes so sad, and starts telling her all the reasons why they can't be together, it suddenly hurts so much inside that she ( Read more... )

She's searching, searching, she can't stop, won't stop, until she finds what she's looking for - but when she wakes to the discomfort of the baby kicking, Remus' arms secure around her, she can't remember what was so important that she find, and she can't seem to shake a vague feeling of dread that hangs low in her belly.