James flushed when the Astra's passenger door did the thing where it wouldn't open properly and he had to ram it with his hip in order to get it to work when he opened the door of the car for her. It was both a gentlemanly gesture and one of necessity, since he knew a new-comer wouldn't know how to jimmy the door.

"Thank you again," Daisy was saying as James threw himself into the driver seat. She was pulling the seat buckle over her chest and strapping herself in and James stuck the key in the ignition, praying for the engine not to stutter. She watched him struggle with it as the car hesitated to turn over and she said, "I'm sort of surprised you don't have some fancy high-end car like most rich sorts do."

James said, "I've never been a big fan of cars. Nor was my wife. This was her car. It was new when we got it. She loved it dearly. Loved the ugly color, even. I've never had the heart to turn it over to the scrap heap."

"One day, it will be vintage and then it'll be fancy again," Daisy said.

"Good way to look at it, I s'pose," James said. "Til then, it is worth something only to me, but what it's worth is more than the gold that any other car would cost."

"That's beautiful."

The car engine finally turned over and James steered them off, following Daisy's instructions. "Our nanny's flat isn't too far," Daisy said. Once James had gotten them headed in the right way, impressed with his navigational knowledge of the city, she asked, "So do you and Harry live in London?"

"A bit north." He didn't want to try to explain Godric's Hollow. Or how the long distances could so easily be travelled about. Flying, after all, was a lot faster than the motorways and it was a complicated lot explaining to a muggle where Godric's Hollow was anyway, as it was a wizarding town and not many muggles knew of it to begin with. "Remus and his husband live in East London, though, near to Waterloo. And I used to work over near to Scotland Yard."

"Oh. What did you used to do?"

"I was a sort of policeyman."

"Policeyman?" Daisy laughed lightly, smiling at the funny term.

"Yeah," James answered, not realizing he'd said it funnily at all.

"That must've been right exciting."

"It was a lot," James admitted. "I wasn't very good at it, I don't reckon. There was a lot of political rubbish I didn't much go along with. A lot of discrimination and that sort of rot."

"Oh no, that's terrible."

"Yeah. I don't feel like anybody ought to be oppressed for things that aren't their controlling - blood and conditions and orientations and that sort of thing. I think people are people and they ought all be treated with equal amounts of love and given the same sort of opportunities and care, regardless of what their skin and blood and bones are made of. At the end of the day, we're all dirt just trying to live up to the grandeur of the star dust we're made from, right?"

Daisy stared at him. She nodded, "Yes, that's right. Sometimes I feel more like dirt than star dust."

James glanced at her, then turned back to the road. "Don't we all?"

"I think some more than others."

"That's exactly what I mean, though. You wouldn't feel that way if you weren't meant to feel that way, made to, I mean, by others. Like, you'd feel like star dust if everyone treated you like star dust and then the challenge would be to stay humble and remember that star dust is just dirt, too, with a flashier name, yeah? But then others of us are good at forgetting that the dirt is the same in that we think we're lesser than, and honestly it's all just the same damn thing with different weights placed on it by human minds, and if we all just believed in ourselves and each other, what a better world it would be. Then we could focus more on healing and helping and becoming better - on fulfilling what we're really meant for, yeah? On things like our dreams. Like if money didn't matter and everyon was worth the same and we all cared about each other properly and cared for each other properly, we could all reach for our own stars and be the best versions of ourselves."

Daisy was smiling at him. "Huzzah!" she said.

He glanced over again, flushed, "Sorry. I got on a bit of a soapbox there."

"And a damned good one it was. If more people got on such a soapbox, then maybe the world would be more like you've said."

"Maybe. Or maybe I'm just a daft dreamer spouting off at the mouth with no chops to back it up."

"The world would be a sad place without the dreamers."

"Yes it would."

"Was your wife a dreamer?"

"Of the best sort. She was terrifyingly powerful in love magic," he said - and he didn't even care about the breach of the statute of secrecy, he wouldn't have worded it any differently if Lily hadn't been a witch, he thought. "She could make sunshine out of a thunder cloud. She could bring down the greatest enemies with a soothing word. She could reach into the chest of a broken soul and repair things they didn't even know were broken about them - just like that - and she carried it like a queen. She was incredible. She was a whole damn star - not just the dust."

Daisy smiled.

James hesitated, his hands gripping the wheel as they came to a stop at a light and he bit his lip.

"How did she...?" Daisy asked gently.

"She was murdered."

"Oh." Daisy covered her mouth with her palm.

"She was murdered because of her love," James said, "Because there are enemies that would rather hate than be loved and ultimately Lily thought it worthy to die than to hate them back."

Daisy looked down at her hands in her lap. She played with a bracelet that was wrapped around her wrist, a  plain, silver thing, with a small tag, engraved with some text - instructions - and she ran her finger over the words there, pressed them into her pulse point.

"Lily sounds like a true hero," she murmured.

"She was one," James said. "Everyday. I think that everyone should think of their spouse that way and if they don't, then it must not be the right match. If you can't look at your significant other and say that they've changed your life for the better and saved you in some way, what business have you in yoking yourself to them? If they don't make you better... stronger... I mean, I made Lily stronger, too, and she made me stronger, and that was mutual. And that's what marriage is. It's two people strengthening each other through life."

Daisy said, "I wish I'd had that with my husband."

Their light turned and the Astra started off again, moving through the London streets. The wiper blades whipped across the windscreen, pushing great beads of water aside, the drops making pattering music on the roof that mingled with the radio station that played quietly in the background. Daisy recognized it as the station she kept on at home for noise, too.

"Not right for each other?" James asked.

"He didn't make me strong, that's for sure..." Daisy scoffed. "He made me weak and he knew it. He relished the fact that he could... and for a long time, he succeeded in doing it."

James frowned.

"But then my daughter came along and... I had a reason not to let him anymore." Daisy looked at James. "She makes me strong."

"You're a good Mum, then. Our little ones ought to make us want to be stronger and better. And look at you, look at what you've done, what you're doing - with college and all."

Daisy nodded. "I hope one day that I'll have a chance to show him how much I've changed and I hope that when he sees me that he wishes he'd respected me back then... that he'll see what I was always capable of, that he was wrong about me."

James said, "I can tell he was wrong about you. I've known you like, what, three hours? and I can tell already you're strong. So fuck him if he couldn't see that."

Daisy laughed. "Yeah, fuck him if he couldn't see that."

They were pulling up to the house where the nanny lived and James parked the Astra on the side of the road in front of the house. It was a row house, one in a long line like great white teeth. He leaned forward and looked through the windshield at the house and said, "Well, here we are."

"Here we are," Daisy nodded.

It was pouring. Daisy was very glad indeed that she hadn't stayed waiting for the bus. She would've been still sitting on that bench, shivering and soaking wet.

She undid her buckle and reached for her bag at her feet. "Thank you, James, for the ride. I truly appreciate your kindness - for staying late for me to finish the painting and for the ride."

"Of course," James said. "Glad to have helped."

Daisy nodded, then reached for the door. The door handle wouldn't give and James flushed and leaned across. "Like this," he said, grabbing hold of it and pulling harder than Daisy would have thought neccessary. "Now push," he said.

She pushed and the door opened.

"Finnicky little bugger," James explained. "I've got to get it fixed. Hang on - let me walk you - umbrella --" James said and he threw open the driver door, leaping out into the rain. As he ran 'round the car, when she couldn't see what he'd done, he pulled his wand out of the secret pocket at his wrist and shook it into an umbrella. It was up and overhead by the time he reached the passenger door and he held it up over her, holding out a hand to help her to her feet.

"What a gentleman," she said, flushing, "God they don't make them like you anymore, do they?"

"Don't they?" James asked.

"I'm afraid not," Daisy said, slinging her bag 'round her shoulders.

They walked up the stoop and Daisy said, "Thank you yet again."

"Not a problem," James answered.

She opened the door and stepped into the foyer. He could see it was a multifamily, with buzzers and mail boxes in the entry way. She paused at the door, just inside, looking back out at him, standing there on the stoop with his umbrella.

James smiled. "Keep dreaming, Daisy Fuentes."

"You, too, James..." she realized she didn't know his last name.

"Potter," he said in his best Bond voice, "James Potter."

Daisy laughed and shook her head, "What a lark you are!"

"I do what I can," he answered, and he turned and trotted down the steps.

She didn't quite see what he did with the umbrella - only that it disappeared, a bit like magic.

Remus was on the couch reading when Sirius came home that night; he had his long legs crossed, a cup of tea clutched in his hand, the book floating before him, pages magically turning.

Remus looked up and the book gracefully fluttered down to rest on the couch beside him. "How was your show?"

"Brilliant," Sirius said. "Had to fix the sound by magic, that muggle system in the shop is absolute shit. Luckily, I have a fix for that." He grinned. His hair was disheveled from a night rocking out to whatever indie punk band he'd procured to play at the Groove. He kicked off his boots and walked over to lower himself into Remus's lap, sighing with relief as he sank against his husband's shoulder and curled himself up, knees to his chest, hand splayed against Remus's chest. "How was your day? Was Prongs a supermodel?"

"He did excellently, as expected," Remus said. "There were some very exceptional pieces made today."

"And did he find any hobbies to do when you showed him about your college?"Sirius was tracing hearts on Remus's chest with his finger tips.

Remus hesitated. "No, not exactly. He ended up staying late for a student that was a bit tardy and we took a raincheck for the tour. He wanted to get home to Harry."

Sirius frowned. "He could've sent Harry to the show."

Remus shrugged. "I think he was a bit tired after all the modeling."

"Yes because one needs a good rest after sitting all day."

"It's harder than you think."

"I'm sure."

"It is! You can't do it - so don't judge too hard, mister."

Sirius snorted. "You ought to have told the tardy student to bugger off. Getting Prongs's new hobby sorted out is very important."

Remus shrugged, "She deserved a break. Besides, it was James's idea to stay late for her."

Sirius sighed, "He's impossible. It's like he doesn't even want a new hobby."

Remus shrugged. "He'll find one when he's ready." Remus took a sip of his tea, and ran his fingers down Sirius's spine in just the sort of way that would distract his husband from the topic altogether.