Three days later and we were stepping off the London express, having taken several different routes in an attempt to throw off anyone on our tail. Things had been strained since he found out the truth and he hadn't even come within a foot of me, even choosing to sit at the furthest point in the compartments from me. It was grating on my nerves, sure it was definitely a shock and I understand why he's upset but isolating me isn't going to change the past.

"Done with your sulking?" I bit, rolling my eyes exaggeratedly as I shoved past him, limping slightly.

"I'm not sulking," he huffed, tightening his hold on the backpack Regulus had given me, refusing to let the 'cripple' carry it.

"Get over it already, would you?" I snarked, no longer willing to hold back my anger. Enough is enough.

"How?" he retorted, tugging on my wrist so that I was forced to turn and face him, trying my best to ignore that this was the first time he'd touched me in days. "How am I supposed to ignore the fact that I'm like double your age, that you're one of my best mate's daughter, that we- that we had sex! I'm like a paedophile," he grumbled out, his cheeks turning a light shade of red when he mentioned the night of the party. "How can you possibly understand what I'm feeling right now? How am I supposed to just blindly ignore that? Because if you have the answer then please, go ahead."

I stared at him flabbergasted, unable to conceal the few giggles threatening to escape. Is that how he really saw himself? As a paedophile?

"James," I mumbled, ignoring the intensifying flush of his cheeks, "I'm currently five months older than you, if anyone is going to be the paedophile then it's me."

"But-"

"This is my second time completing seventh year," I informed him, my tone leaving no room for argument.

"That explains why you don't study yet know everything," he grumbles petulantly, but I could tell some of the tension had lifted from his shoulders as he rolled them backwards, running a hand through his unruly chocolate brown strands.

"Let's go get some lunch, yeah?" I asked, smiling up at him.

"Yeah, lunch," his thoughts wandered off, blindly following me through the crowd, unbeknownst to me he was following me blindly to much more than just lunch.

"So why are we hiking up this godforsaken mountain again when we can apparate? Actually, why didn't we just apparate the whole trip?" I nagged, resting my hands on my knees as I struggled for breath.

We'd been walking for hours and we were barely halfway up the mountain. We didn't even have the right equipment for it! We'd freeze and turn into cannibals at this rate.

"It's not that bad," James scoffed, shaking out his ice soaked converse with a disgusted expression, "or maybe it is but we're almost there so we may as well keep going. And we can't use magic because I still have the trace so the Ministry would instantly know where we are and if the Ministry knows then so does Voldemort."

"You realise that I could've apparated us?"

Silence ensuing at his realisation that I was, in fact, older than him at this point in time.

"Of course," he exclaimed awkwardly, nudging me in the ribs softly, "but there's nothing like a Muggle adventure. I've found them to be quite fascinating so far."

"Sure," I rolled my eyes, knowing that the Gryffindor man was full of shit. "Hey I'm actually technically eighteen now, how weird is that?"

James choked, "what?"

"Yeah, I've had eighteen birthdays but when I get back to my time I'll be seventeen again but still eighteen. Wicked!"

"Fucking time travel I swear to Merlin," James grumbled underneath his breath, coming to a halt at a cave that marked the halfway point. "Only a few hours left."

We trudged on in silence, unspoken words filling the frosty air around us as we neared the top of the mountain; the only sounds being our loud pants from the intense exercise. I tugged the green jacket tighter around me, thankful for James' Gryffindor scarf lining my neck.

"So that ginger weasel that we saw at the beginning of the year..." James trailed off, unsure where the question was heading, unsure if he wanted an answer.

"Ronald Weasley."

"Ah, so he was a Weasley, that makes so much more sense. Anyway, he mentioned something about a Harry Potter..."

I glanced sharply at him through the corner of my eye, noticing his awkward disposition and the red flush that refused to leave his cheeks – from the cold or the topic he brought up I was unable to distinguish.

"What about him?" I asked more harshly than I intended, glaring at him, no longer focusing on my footing.

One moment was all it took, the air leaving my lungs, as my foot didn't touch the ground, the action sending my body propelling after it down the mountainside. A scream tore in my throat, no way could I die like this of all ways. Warmth encompassed my wrist, the action tugging me back up on the pathway as I stumbled against the rock wall, resting my weight against it as I panted heavily.

No way did that just happen.

"Lilah?" James asked frantically, eyes scanning my form urgently, finding no signs of new injuries. "Lilah?" he shouted, still receiving no sign of response. "Merlin, Love! Answer me!"

"James?" I croaked out, brown eyes clashing with blue as I forced air into my lungs, the shock and adrenaline failing to leave me as I shivered uncontrollably.

"You're alright, Love, you're fine. I promise," he comforted, drawing me into the warm embrace of his arms, one hand resting on the small of my back whilst the other ran over my hair, reassuring himself just as much as he was me. It was like he needed to make sure that I was really here but I wouldn't complain, not when I needed the comfort he was so willing to provide.

"He's our son," I finally admitted, pulling back from his neck to assess his reaction. He didn't seem too surprised, seemingly still caught up in the moment before.

"Yeah, figured as much," his warm breath hit my cheek, his mouth close enough to touch, the action leaving goose bumps in its wake.

My eyes darted to his lips; entranced in the way he bit down on his plump bottom lip. So tempting, too tempting.

Regulus.

It was like a bucket of cold water had hit me as I came to my sense, withdrawing from his embrace as I looked at our soaked converse, secretly finding it hilarious how he once again had decided to wear those amusing dog socks of his.

"Thank you," I broke the silence, "for saving me that is."

"Anytime," he swore solemnly as I glanced up, hating myself for liking the smile that adorned his face. "We should probably get moving, we're almost there."

"Yeah," I agreed, "good idea."

But it was far from a good idea, my body protesting the idea of leaving.

Leaving 1977, leaving my friends, leaving James' embrace.

Everything in me was screaming no but this one action was the most selfless one I could ever commit, knowing that it was for James' sanity and wellbeing that I acted like our almost kiss didn't faze me.

He didn't deserve this.

And I didn't deserve him.