James stepped through the wards, a guiding hand on the small of Lily's back. He began the familiar path up towards the Bones home, untying his apron and taking it off as he went, shaking the flower out of it and brushing it out of his hair as well. He looked a bit more presentable by the time they reached the front door.
He slid his arm around Lily's shoulders as he tucked the apron halphazardly into his back pocket. Most of it stuck out, and the apron strings almost dragged on teh ground, but he didnt' care. He was really happy lately, or at least he tried to be, because being happy with Lily was easier than worrying about her or panicking about the baby, or stressing about the war, and so he chose not to do those things when he could help it, or at least not to think about them. Getting a patronus from anyone in the Order requesting a meeting always sent a jolt of panic through James, of course, but he was here now, and no one was crying, and that, at least, as always a good sign.
If there were no tears it was, at the very least, not a meeting to tell everyone someone had died so we'd all know, at least, before it hit the Prophet in the morning. That had happened before. That was the worst kind of meeting.
"Scotch! Scotch is for after dinner, Fabian, not before or during," James said. As James and Lily had been distracted in the kitchen, they hadn't yet spotted Edgar's journal entry, so James had no clue what this meeting might actually be about. "Now what are we here to talk about?"