"i am doing my best. that is all i can expect of me"

*

Eva raked a hand through her curls as she stared at essays, wondering why she thought assigning so many of them was a good idea. At least the year was nearly over. As much as she loved her job, she couldn't deny her excitement at being back at the cottage by the shore with Remus for another summer. It would be the perfect escape.

Instead of taking a chair or sofa, Eva had perched herself on a windowsill in the staff room. The sweet May air blew in through the cracked window, smelling faintly of the Forbidden Forest and smoke from Hagrid's hut. She sighed. Over the years, she'd really learned to treasure the quiet moments in her life. As time went on, they seemed to lessen.

A nagging sense filled her heart. Guilt. Soon, it would be summer. Practically an entire school year had passed, and Harry still didn't know that he was her godson. It wasn't that she wanted to keep the secret. She hated it.

It was tearing her apart.

One after the other, all eight of her requests to Dumbledore about the boy staying with her and Remus over the summer had been patiently denied. He didn't give reasons, which only made her feel worse. Eva didn't want Harry to think that she was neglecting him, so she stayed silent. It was better than him thinking he had a godmother who didn't care about him. Besides, having a godmother implied having a godfather, and that was a conversation she had no desire to get into. Not yet.

After marking Lee Jordan's essay with slightly too much red ink for comfort, Eva vanished her things with a nifty spell Flitwick had taught her and started to walk back to her room. The corridors tended to be emptied in the evenings. She considered visiting Dumbledore and putting in a ninth request to take Harry for the summer, but then remembered that he'd been called to the Ministry on urgent business, so she continued on her way, humming Queen songs under her breath.

"Oooooh! Professor Princess!"

Rolling her eyes, Eva looked at the source of that voice with mild annoyance. Generally, she managed to avoid him altogether. "Hello, Peeves."

"Wandering around by yourself, hm?" The poltergeist asked in a mocking voice. "How lonely."

"I don't see you with anyone, either," she retorted.

"Old Peevsie doesn't care for companions, they aren't half as much fun as he is." Peeves wiggled his eyebrows, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "But I do remember that you weren't always wandering these hallways alone, hm? You had your fun once, didn't you?"

Eva's blood ran cold and her head snapped up.

"Right," he said, relishing the reaction he'd gotten. "Peevsie remembers it so well. Broom closets, back hallways, Professor McGonagall's office... sneaky sneaky sneaky... lots of giggling... lots of snogging..."

She closed her eyes, willing herself to remain calm as she fought from twisting her rings. "Peeves, I'm this close to getting the Bloody Baron involved. I know he's in the Astronomy Tower right now. Don't make me."

"Oh, dear Professor, are you being... SERIOUS?"

Eva's eyes flew open, her green irises livid with anger. Before she could stop herself, she let out a stream of colorful curse words that would have made Remus Lupin both proud and terrified.

Her little outburst did the trick. Peeves quickly vanished, leaving Eva practically heaving for breath as she tried to compose herself. She reached out and put her hands on the wall, leaning heavily on it for a minute. Once her heart rate decreased, she pushed herself away and dusted off her hands, only to find two lanky redheads staring at her, arms filled with fireworks and mouths dangling wide open.

Three sets of wide eyes stared at each other in shock.

"Okay," Eva ventured. She glanced at her reflection in the window, fixing the clip in her hair to keep her hands busy. "This is the part where I don't ask about the questionable amount of fireworks the two of you are holding and you don't tell anyone what you just heard."

A slow smile spread across Fred's freckled face. "Right you are, Professor."

Eva's reflection winked at them and she walked off, her Oxford heels clicking against the stone floor and echoing in the hallways.

"I think I'm in love, Freddie," George whispered in a low, awed voice. His twin only shoved him.

*

Incessant knocking dragged Eva from her sleep. She groaned and rubbed her forehead tiredly. For once, she'd been enjoying a peaceful night without insomnia or nightmares.

Probably Filch, she thought grouchily as she wrapped the covers around herself and debated going back to sleep. He just wants to give some poor first-year detention and doesn't have the authority to do it himself, so he's come to bother me in the dead of night...

"Professor? Professor Taylor? Hello?"

"Shut up, you're being irritating!"

"How would you do it?"

Eva's heart rate increased dramatically as she recognized two of her students' voices. She quickly slid on a robe and hurried into her office, where she opened the door. Both Ron and Hermione stood before her, eyes filled with worry.

"Oh my goodness, come in here," she said quickly, ushering them inside. Flames danced in the fireplace after a whispered incantation. Seeing the terror in their expressions, she couldn't resist sweeping them into comforting hugs. "What's wrong? It's the middle of the night! You two should be in bed! Are you okay? Why... why are you limping, Ron? What happened?"

The redhead boy glanced down at his feet. "I, um, fell," he said lamely.

Eva's nose scrunched up in confusion. "What's wrong?" She repeated, giving them both a look.

"You see, P-Professor," Hermione began in a quivering voice, "Harry, Ron, and I found out about the S-S-Sorcerer's Stone, I'm really sorry, we shouldn't have been poking our noses into stuff like that, and we thought that Snape was going to steal it, so we t-tried to go stop him, but-"

"Slow down," Eva said softly, as Hermione looked close to fainting. She placed her hand on the girl's shoulder and ignored the rapid hammering of her own heart. A headache instantly formed in the back of her head, but she ignored that, too. She needed to be calm for the sake of her students. "You said Harry's name. Where's Harry?"

"Still down there." Ron's gaze was still on the floor. "I sort of got knocked out by that chess set, and Hermione helped me get out of there, but he kept going. We ran into Dumbledore when we were gonna send him a letter to come. He said that he was going to find Harry and that if we weren't hurt, we should go stay with you until he brought Harry back because you'd take good care of us."

Eva rubbed her arms up and down, though she wasn't cold, just trying to make sense of it all. Three first-years got past multiple of the magic obstacles that adult witches and wizards created. That was the combined efforts of me, Hooch, Sprout, McGonagall, Flitwick, and...

"Did you say Snape?"

Hermione nodded her head vigorously. "Yes, he was trying to steal the Stone. That's why we tried to get it first. To keep it away from him."

"Oh Merlin," Eva muttered, sinking into her chair. She rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands. Snape was right. It was Quirrell all along. "Please, just... just sit. Sit down."

All she wanted to do was to go find her godson, to ensure that he was safe, but she knew that wasn't her job. Dumbledore had entrusted these two to her, and as much as she hated it, he always had a method to his madness. That was what she kept telling herself, anyway.

With a flick of her wand that was shakier than it should have been, the singular chair on the other side of her desk disappeared, and a smaller sofa reappeared in its place. The pair sat down awkwardly.

"Neither of you are hurt?" Eva questioned sharply, looking back and forth between her two students. Ron's face was a little bruised, and Hermione just seemed disheveled, but they both seemed all right otherwise. When they both nodded, she pulled a box of chocolates that Remus had sent out of a drawer and passed it to them. They both took a few without hesitation.

"What if Harry's hurt?" Hermione whispered, her big brown eyes filling with tears. "What if something happens to him?"

Eva was no stranger to that terrible feeling of uncertainty about a loved one's fate. It felt terribly familiar, and she had to remind herself that it wasn't 1981.

"We can't do anything about that. Dumbledore will make sure that he's safe. That's his job. Right now, it's our job to listen to the Headmaster and wait."

The minutes ticked by. Ron and Hermione were both clearly struggling to stay awake, as one of them would doze off, only to get shaken awake by the other a few seconds later. Eventually, though, they both succumbed to exhaustion. Hermione fell asleep on Ron's shoulder, his head resting on top of hers.

Once she saw that the kids had fallen asleep, Eva let out a trembling breath she'd been holding for quite a while. How many times had she been in this situation, trapped on the sidelines while someone that mattered to her was in danger? It was suffocating.

She tried to distract herself with sketching, but all of the lines she inked on the page were straggly, and the images blurred with her tear-filled vision. After a few attempts, the pen fell to the floor because she could barely hold it. She flexed her fingers constantly, a pit forming deep in her stomach as she attempted to stave off the inevitable.

It took three years of nightmares, panic attacks, and anxiety for Remus to convince her that maybe seeing a Muggle psychologist wasn't a bad idea. She could still hear that man's voice ringing in her ears. PTSD. Severe trauma and anxiety. Considering all that she'd survived and the number of people she'd lost, the diagnosis didn't surprise Eva, but it did leave a deadened feeling behind, like something was wrong with her. Like the war had left a ghost behind for her to battle alone. Like she couldn't even win against herself anymore.

Eva's nails dug into the palm of her hands, leaving bright red crescents in her pale skin. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. The last thing she needed was a full-fledged panic attack with two students sleeping in her office and her godson in grave danger.

Desperate for fresh air, she stumbled over to the window and pushed the window open. A cool breeze blew her hair around as her eyes desperately scanned the sky, looking for everything and nothing, looking for some sign that it was going to be okay. That she wasn't a horrible godmother. That after all this time, she was still doing the right thing.

Eva sat straight up in bed, her chest heaving for breath so quickly that her lungs could barely take in enough air. It was dark, much too dark. She could still smell the blood, feel the pain, her that cackle...

"Blondie?"

Despite his tall height, James had somehow managed to drift off on an armchair he'd dragged into his room, but at the sound of her crying, he immediately moved to the bed. Eva buried her head in his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around her shaking figure as she sobbed, careful to avoid her injured shoulder.

"Hey, you're safe. You're here with me. No one's gonna hurt you. No one's gonna get you," he said soothingly. He didn't tell her that it was all right, because it wasn't. Her mother was dead, and she had almost followed. There was nothing right about that. "No one's gonna hurt you right now."

"James, I d-don't think... I don't think I can do this any longer. I can't. It hurts too much."

A tear tricked down James' face. "I know. I know it does. It's bloody unfair that all of this had to happen to you, because you're the best person I know, the best one by far, but I don't reckon that it's over. Far from it, honestly. It's only the beginning, and that's the stuff that keeps me up at night. But you only lose when you give in. This world is so messed up. It's dark and dangerous and cold, but there's still good. There's uncontrollable laughing and Quidditch and wild concerts and family. There's firewhiskey and birthday presents and animal puns and SNL. That's the stuff we need to fight for. It's only over when we stop fighting. Don't stop fighting. Don't give in."

Eva wiped away the tears. She could breathe again. The worst was over. For a moment, she thought she felt a weight on her shoulder, almost like a comforting hand. Even years after his death, it was James Potter who had her back, just like always, even if he was just a fond memory.

"Don't stop fighting. Don't give in."

The fire was dying out. Only a few embers remained, cracking and popping as they attempted to illuminate the office. The sounds of Ron's occasional snore and Ringo's soft hooting made her smile for a few brief seconds. Her smiles had become scarcer, but they were still as genuine as they were in her happiest days.

Eva spent the rest of the night awake, head bent in silent prayer, fingers playing with the rings around her neck, waiting to hear that James' boy was safe.

helloooooooooooooooooooo readers :)

i really enjoyed writing this chapter for some reason. also, i miss james.

first year is wrapping up, we'll be heading into "chamber of secrets" soon! excited? I AM

qotd: favorite part of this book so far?

please vote and comment! xo