How could this have happened?

James paced back and forth in the living room of the Order House, having been banned from helping the rescue party because he couldn't remain calm. Damn bloody right he couldn't remain calm! Only Frank and Alice---and Dumbledore, he knew, only they knew about the prophecy. So they did not have any idea of what was going through James' head. What was Voldemort doing, not having people kill Lily on the spot? Or had they killed her, and taken her and---James clenched his fists tightly, wishing to wring the neck of the death eaters that had dared invade their home. They had seen maybe one neighbor, always entering the house through the floo, so how anyone knew their location was highly suspicious.

They had only told a handful of people.

He didn't like the paranoia that was growing with his anger, but James couldn't stop his thoughts. How had they found out? Who had slipped and revealed their location? The Longbottoms were keeping a very low profile too, they were definitely in a more public place than they were, so---if they had been after Alice (like she had hysterically explained) they why didn't they attack them at the Ministry? Or at Alice's parents? It didn't make any sense to James, and he had the boiling, intensely strong gut-feeling that they had been waiting to hit two birds with one stone.

James kicked out at the thought, making the side table and the variety of knick-knacks on top of it rattle. Nothing fell, and James struck his hand out and sent the lamp soaring to the ground with a very satisfying crack. He whirled around--what else would be ridiculously good to smash?

Who: Lily, James, and HARRY POTTER
What: Depresesed because they're moving out of their home, they find something to smile about
Where: Their home in Liverpool :'[
When: This afternoon?

( Though, when Lily read off the name meaning, the fact that---a ruler, a leader. It was almost as if he was telling them that he'd be up to the challenge of defeating Voldemort, that one day he would be a leader of the wizarding world and help them get through this war, however long it should take. )

WHO: James & Lily Potter
WHAT: He's home
WHEN: This morning
WHERE: Potter residence

( 'Just--lie with me, will you?' )

Who: James Potter and Derek Dobbs
What: :(
Where: The Longbottom's
When: Early this morning

( It was at that precise moment that Derek ceased to see color )

What a strange feeling.

In the middle of all this chaos, Caradoc felt quite calm. Incredibly calm, actually. Whether that was a positive or negative, he decided not to care to divulge into that inner meaning. All he cared to know was that it felt good. Unrealistically good. There was nothing else running through him, he had efficiently locked away all resolved issues, emotions with them. So now... no, the battle surrounding him did not effect him one bit. It felt like he was watching this all from afar, or from behind a protected screen. But when in reality, a red jet of light had just missed his leg by a few meters and he hadn't even moved away from it.

That should have gotten his heart going, shouldn't it? But it... didn't; Caradoc knew what he was waiting for, who he was waiting for. Nothing else seemed to be that dangerous. And if he was accidently killed while he was standing here? If he could be so lucky. He knew he wouldn't have to wait long, and there was no reason for him to bring attention to himself. They would know he was here, just like how he would have known that a traitor had finally decided to make a public presence. Call it something of a sixth sense, but you don't just waltz into a battle undetected when the other side was desperately grasping to kill you. Nope, it just never happened. Life wasn't easy like that.

Though-- this suddenly came to him as something of a side note--- for some reason, he hoped Dorcas would make this out of it alive. Perhaps it was this new mood he was in, or maybe it was just the fact that he knew his death was coming, but either way, he figured he could forgive her now, of all times.

Caradoc, wand in hand and back up against a high stone wall, looked away from the street for a moment. But once he looked back, two jets of light were already heading straight at him. He deflected and moved away from them easily. Again, while by instinct his body jerked into action, he was not scared. This death eater wasn't going to be the one to kill him, he was sure of that. He had made this very personal to the Dark Lord, no doubt they were told to bring him back still breathing.

James rapped his fingers quickly on the counter of the bar, watching the doorway as the Order members slowly trickled in. He knew it was the middle of the bloody day and people were at work and couldn't just up and leave, but seeing as the Order had a bit of a reputation of being jobless members of society, James had become accustomed to immediate reactions.

And he was fucking pissed off, so his patience was running very, very thin.

He'd been angry about the M.A.G.I.C. Act, he had been furious, but for the most part, James had kept a level head so that Lily didn't completely lose her mind. He was being a good spouse that way, remaining calm and giving some sort of clear point of view, but fuck if he could continue doing that. There was no way he would allow his wife to live in some complex that would most likely be guarded by death eaters that had infiltrated the ministry, while the rest of her rights as a witch were being stripped away and---he and Lily already had a target on their back, and sticking her in a place where they knew your every bloody mood--

His head snapped up as someone slid onto the seat beside him, and James let out a strong breath from his nose, looking back down. The wards on the bar made any visitor who wasn't in the Order turn away with the thought of missing a healer appointment, so James felt no worry in blurting,

"I'm ready to fucking kill someone."

So...he had no idea where to begin.

He could be wrong. He could definitely be wrong, except James Potter was rarely wrong. Which brings up the issue of wanting to be wrong at this particular moment in time. He was sitting in the...he supposed it was just a sitting area of their living quarters, his fingers twisting around the small vial of a pregnancy test. Madame Pomfrey had looked at him, a scolding look that he couldn't understand seeing as he'd been out of Hogwarts for more than a year and had been married for most of that time, but he supposed the matron along with most of the other staff at the school still saw him and Lily as the bickering duo that filled the halls with loud, angry cursing or ridiculously sappy moments.

Sometimes he still thought of himself that way.

James didn't want to be wrong. Not that he was ready to have a baby, because before when they were trying, he thought they were ready, but when the healers said the chances were slim to nothing, he had begun to think about the positives of it. They were in a war, they were some of Voldemort's favorite targets---it wouldn't be fair to bring a baby into this world. So now, almost a year after their dreams had been shattered and he'd accepted the idea of never being a father, there seemed to be a bit of a glimmer of hope that he wasn't sure he was ready for.

Sighing greatly, James pushed himself up and stuck the vial into his back pocket, pushing the door open to their bedroo. Jamees grinned at his wife and sat down on the bed beside her, annoyingly looking into the pages of the book in her hands.

In all of her years at Hogwarts, in all of her years being a prefect and working on a team full of the best students in Hogwarts, Phoebe Smethwyck had never been as impressed as she was right now as she stared around the Great Hall. Illuminated with candles in all shapes and sizes (and colors, a nifty charm a sixth year had found), the tables surrounding the dance floor were decorated with pumpkins, spiderwebs, and fall leaves, creating a spooky, yet beautiful design. The Ghosts of Hogwarts had volunteered to mingle more than usual (she thanked Nearly Headless Nick profusely, and promised to hold him a belated Death-Day party), captivating the guests with stories---how much truth they held, she couldn't be sure, but they were interesting nonetheless.

The band was a new kind of wizard rock, a bit more political than the Hobgoblins, W.O.A.R. There had been a lot of discussion at the prefect meetings about whether or not they should try and book them, but at the end of the day the naysayers (read: the Slytherins) were outvoted, and the band with the hit song "Do You Believe in M.A.G.I.C" was creating an incredible atmosphere.

So---people looked happy. They were laughing, smiling, and just---happy. Not something Phoebe felt like the wizarding world had been in a long time, and she was glad to be a big part of it.

Now, if only she could find a reason to be happy, herself.

ooc: No wands! Just your ID is needed. Everyone is welcome!

WHO: James Potter, Lily Potter, & some Ministry men
WHAT: Lily's not following the rules.
WHEN: Today, day after the tattoo deadline
WHERE: Potter residence

( 'Now, Mrs. Potter, I would really suggest that you give me your hand.' )

James sat in the corner of the Order house's living room, bending his shoulders in to fit against the walls. With his knees up and head pushed as far back as he could, it seemed that he was literally trying to disappear between the cracks, to become one with the stagnant, unfeeling wall. He couldn't hear the soft murmuring that was going around the house, he'd tuned himself out of that what felt like ages ago. If he dared pay attention again, it would only force him to listen to the crying and horrible mutterings of the rest of the Order. The only reason he'd left the house was to await any sort of news from the Longbottoms, who had apparently come up with a valid way to capture Travers, the fucking bastard---

"James."

His eyes lifted to stare up at Emmeline Vance, who was far too dressed up to be here.

"Why are you wearing that?" he muttered. She looked down at the green dress and sighed, pulling at the ponytail that looked like it'd been done and undone a hundred times.

"I was at Jugson's wedding when--everything."

"Oh." James looked down and across the living room to try and garner the other members' faces. He didn't want to deal with them, but felt this unnerving need to. "What?" he asked when Emmeline didn't move.

"I took a calming serum from the basement," she said quietly, "for--Anneliese, my friend? She's--Jugson, and...pregnant, and--"

"Fine."

He watched her twitch and then she turned to cross the room again, and James' gaze dropped back down to the ground. What the hell did it matter, anyway? Not like they did any sort of good any more, the Order. They'd let one of their own get taken, right out from under their noses. What was the point?

( OOC )