| ||Rating: Mature||Story Reviews: 84|
Characters: James, Lily, OC
Genre(s): Drama, Action/Adventure
Pairings: James/Lily, OC/OC, Other Pairing
Status: Work In Progress|
First Published: 2015.02.17
Last Published Chapter: 2015.11.08
Last Updated: 2015.11.08
Favorite Story Of: 28 users
| ||Advisory: Contains profanity, Strong violence, Scenes of a mild sexual nature, Substance abuse, Sensitive topic/issue/theme|
|The HPFF Dobby Awards: Winner - Best Marauder Era (2015)|
|This author is an HPFF Angel.|
|Banner by lionheart@tda! Thank you so much!!!|
Her grandfather's war and her father's war were fought with metal and manpower.
Hers was done with magic.
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|Ch. #||Chapter Title||Word Count||Reviews||Read|
|1||The Poppies Blow
She was always armed; rarely did her weapon leave her person. The battles she fought were almost never planned. At least, not on her front: they were continually on the defensive. At the drop of a dime, anywhere and anytime, she would be required to appear and fight. As a result, she lived in a constant state of fear.
|2||Short Days Ago
The Evans family was full of soldiers.
|3||Amid the Guns Below
Trigger Warning for Strong Violent Imagery
|4||From Failing Hands We Throw
Only, she couldn't very well tell her family that. The images they held of war did not align with what was happening. War meant sending your men off, it meant hiding in basements or bomb shelters and shipping your children off to the country. It meant bullets and bombs and barely breathing men. They hadn't fought because they believed in the cause, they had fought because they believed in their country. It was a different matter entirely now.
|5||If Ye Break Faith
Again. She'd left him like that again.
|6||Mark Our Place
That belief-- that it didn't matter she was Muggle-born-- is what held her afloat in the ocean of hatred that surrounded her. She'd drown if she didn't have it.
|7||Still Bravely Singing
He didn’t much believe in God, but his father did, and maybe if there was a God, he’d help Jack out for his dad’s sake, at least. He hoped he was asking right. He hoped that God hadn’t tuned him out altogether. He hoped that God could hear him above all the other voices asking for the same damn thing.
|8||Hold it High
This was a march, just like any other. Just a march. He’d marched for miles. This was the first thing he had learned how to do as a soldier. March. Onward, ever onward.
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