R12 of the QLFC! I had to write about James Potter & Lily Potter in a romantic relationship :D GOSH DO I HAVE TO? ;) Too much fun.

1 December 1979

"Happy anniversary."


"There's my gorgeous wife. What a look."

"S'early, James…"

"Yes, it's early, but really, what's a few hours of sleep next to spending an entire day with your handsome young buck of a husband?" James's voice seemed to be coming from directly above Lily's left ear. She drew the duvet over her head, squeezing her eyes shut and rubbing a hand over her stomach—if she could just salvage a little more sleep before the morning sickness kicked in…

"Not even a pity laugh?" James asked in mock outrage. Lily rolled over, mummifying herself in the covers. "Lily. Liiiilll-eee. Lily."

There was a long stretch of silence, and for a brief moment, Lily experienced the beginnings of hope that he had given up. Then she remembered who she had married, and just as suddenly, there was a weight on top of her, jiggling the mattress beneath her violently with two hands.

"Are you five?" she demanded, as her husband snatched the duvet from her head and she sat up slightly. She scowled up at him, practically nose-to-nose.

"There's that beautiful smile I love so much," he grinned, kissing the spot between her eyebrows and then scrambling backwards off their bed before Lily could disentangle herself from the blankets to take a swipe at him.

"James!" she shrieked as he dragged back the duvet. She sat up, her hair falling wildly over her shoulders from its clip. "Give it back," she said fiercely, pointing at him.

"Going to hex me with that finger, are you?"

Lily reached for her bedside table—but there was nothing there.

"Ah, Evans, when will you learn?" James asked, sounding highly amused. Lily looked back at him and saw that he was twirling her wand between his fingers. "Now, up you get, and—oi!" He dodged the pillow Lily had aimed at his head, letting it hit the wall with a flump."Is that any way to treat the man who made you and breakfast?"

"It's the way I treat the idiot who wakes up his pregnant wife after six hours of sleep," Lily moaned, dropping back onto the mattress, which was growing cold without the blankets. She pressed the heels of her palms against her closed eyes. "D'you have any idea what time I got in last night? Watch was brutal—dead boring, except for the part where, you know, you're fearing for your life because you're spying on Death Eaters."

James was quiet for a moment, and Lily opened her eyes. He had moved to her side of the bed and had a somewhat mollifying expression of shame on his face as he sat down on the mattress. He placed a hand on her hip. "I know you didn't get much sleep, Lily, but I've got something great planned for our anniversary."

"And that's another thing," she said irritably, unwilling to let him off easy, "it's not our anniversary. It's December, not August. If it was August, I'd already be the size of a house." She wrinkled her nose and put her hands on either side of her stomach.

"Poppycock," James said dismissively, and Lily snorted, but smiled. "And fine then, our one-year-and-four-month anniversary, which is today. Get in the spirit, Evans!"

"That's not what an anniv—" Lily began, but then she looked up at James, who was still grinning. "Oh… all right. All right, I'm getting up."

James clapped his hands together at what Lily felt was a wholly unnecessary volume. "Excellent! Get dressed—something warm, it's misty out—and I'll meet you downstairs in twenty minutes. I'll be the one with the bacon sandwiches and the duvet."

"Oh—James, no, I've got to make the bed!" Lily said, as James scooped up a corner of the blanket and strode from the room with it trailing behind him like a cape.

"Removing temptation, Evans!"

Half an hour later, Lily made her way downstairs, yawning and rubbing sleep from her eyes. The rather scratchy black jumper she had chosen was drab, but quite warm. It had been a gift to James from Vernon and Petunia; thus far, it had mostly made itself useful as a disguise or an extra layer of warmth on cold, windy days like today.

"There she is," James said cheerfully. "I like your hair like that."

Lily ran a hand through her hair as she sat down, her other hand on her slightly queasy stomach. Six weeks into her pregnancy, she was still very much in the throes of morning sickness, though she hadn't been ill yet today. "I haven't washed it, I'll have to wear a hat…"

"Well, it looks great," James told her, coming over with a plate and a mug of tea. He sat down next to her as she picked up the bacon sandwich, watching her expectantly. She took a bite and chewed, and he leaned forward.

"It's good," she told him through a full mouth, and he grinned even more broadly. "Are you eating?"

"Already finished," said James, with a wave of his hand.

"And… what is it we're doing?" Lily asked, swallowing a gulp of the hot tea.

"We," James began, his eyes alight with excitement, "are going to the fair."

"The fair?"

"Well," he acceded, shrugging, "it's not really a fair, but it's a bit of Muggle fun in town. I thought you might like it."

Lily bit her lip. "James…"

He held up his hands. "Hear me out," he said, and Lily narrowed her eyes, but closed her mouth. "We haven't really… celebrated. Anything. Us, the wedding, the baby… And I know you don't really feel like we should be doing that—"

"James, I never—"

"I'm not saying it right," he said, his voice becoming gentle as he cut her off. "Look… can you just… can you give me the day? One day, where we just go out for a bit of fun? Forget everything else? I didn't even tell Padfoot what we were up to. It'll just be us, I swear."

Lily ran her tongue over her teeth thoughtfully, and then sighed. "All right, then."

The fair, it transpired, was little more than a craft marketplace in the town square, where Muggles had set up little covered tables under tents to sell Christmas crafts, yarn, tea, secondhand books, and all kinds of knickknacks and funny little gifts. Still, Lily had to admit that there were some fairly cute things for sale, as well as some delicious-smelling baked goods and hot cider. The cold air felt good on her still-uneasy stomach as it blew brown leaves through the square. It had yet to snow in Godric's Hollow, but winter had certainly arrived.

As James studied a Muggle chess set at one table, Lily allowed her mind to wander. It was true that they hadn't really had time to spend with one another. In the last year and a bit since their marriage, they had lost Lily's mother to cancer and both of James's parents to dragon pox, and been thoroughly rejected and embarrassed by Petunia and her new husband. Add to that the very real stress of being new members of the Order of the Phoenix, and Lily's newly discovered pregnancy (which had not as yet been revealed to anyone else), and anyone could see why the Potters would be taking a day off for some Muggle fun.

The trouble was, Lily couldn't seem to shake her worries. She was a bundle of nerves—she had been ever since she'd realized she was pregnant two weeks ago—to the point that her neck was one tense knot. What was she thinking, going on duty last night, when she knew how risky it was continuing on with the Order with the baby coming? But how could she just forget about the Order? How would they handle having a new baby, when they were embroiled in this war just as much as their closest friends?

"Lily, what d'you think? For Peter?"

Lily watched her breath billow out in a cloud of steam. Would she not even be given a choice? Would Professor Dumbledore not allow her to remain in the Order because she'd gotten pregnant? She felt a wave of hot anger, and nearly jumped out of her skin when a hand landed on her arm.

"Hey, whoa," James said, looking worried. "It's just me. All right?"

Lily bit back a lump in her throat, shook her head, and stalked off towards the memorial obelisk in the center of the square, fighting tears.

"Lily! Lily, what's wrong?"

She stopped in front of the obelisk, feeling the wind sting her cheeks, freezing the tears that had slipped out. She turned and faced James, who seemed positively alarmed.

"Are you sick?" he asked. "D'you want—?"

"No!" she burst out. "No, and—how—how can you be so calm, James? How can you just act like it's—like it's just Sunday afternoon?"

"Because it is," James offered, and she glared at him.

"Don't joke."

"Lily," he laughed, bewildered, "I don't understand what's wrong? Why are you upset?"

"Why wouldn't I be upset?" Lily demanded. "I—I'm pregnant. We're fighting a war. And we're—we're alone…" At the last word, her knees seemed to give out, and she sat down on the plinth of the war memorial, pushing her hands through her hair.

"Alone?" James repeated, sitting down tentatively beside her. She looked sideways at him. He shook his head, his messy black hair flying around, and looked away from her. "Lily… d'you honestly think I haven't thought about all that? That maybe there's a reason I stayed up all last night planning a day out for us?"

He met Lily's eyes, and she sniffed. "I…am terrified," he confessed.

"So am I," she said.

"But if we can't, you know… relax, Lily," James shook his head again. "If we can't take a minute to just breathe from—from all this bloody miserable—" He broke off, shaking his head again, and Lily felt a wave of remorse. She was not alone; she never had been.

She moved closer beside him, curling her arm through his. She heard him sniff and felt him press a kiss to the top of her head. They were both silent for a long time, as the sounds of blustering wind and chatty Muggles filled the air, and the woolly dark clouds seemed to settle over them like a blanket.

"What did you find Wormy?" Lily asked, after a few minutes. James reached into his pocket and produced a small carved wooden rat, with a yarn tail. Lily smiled. "He'll love it."

"There's that beautiful smile I love so much," James said, and Lily felt her cheeks flush. She kissed James, and her stomach fluttered—in a good way.