Red- James Potter

98"

The summer was a scoring hot one.

Camilla couldn't even remember the last time it had rained.

The soil had cracked and the grass yellowed and their skin burned under the relentless sun.

The Prewett household was as solemn as imaginable, as Camilla had expected.

Every so often, a flurry of confetti or stink bomb would explode from under a floor board or from behind a curtain. The last of the booby traps placed by Fabian and Gideon.

Camilla would stand there with confetti in her hair, tears rolling down her face. She would take a deep breath and wipe her tears, cleaning the room and then proceed to carry on with her day.

Her birthday was approaching. She was turning nineteen, though there wasn't much to be excited about.

Being a member of the order of the phoenix was nothing they could have ever prepared themselves for.

The violence the death and the crippling fear was enough to make her feel a lot older than simply nineteen.

They went in groups of four or five. Mostly to prevent raids or attacks.

The wizzing of spells around her would flash in her eyes and the hecticness of it all would make her head spin.

Her parents had formally retired from the order. Far too tired, old and weary to fight. They had let out the Prewett house as a safe hold, similarly to that as the Potters manor and Moody's residence.

For James and Sirius, they were in their element of course, and took every day as their personal mission of revenge.

Camilla had often felt out of her depth, no matter how many times James had told her she was doing amazing.

Sure she was good at duelling, and confident in her ability of her magic, but she was unable to keep her emotions from fuelling her fire.

Every time she came into contact with the death eaters, the vision of her brothers would flash before her eyes and a new level of rage and irrationality would consume her.

At the funeral, they had appeared.

Wisps of Black smoke had filled the room as the death eaters materialised around them. A peaceful sending off had quickly turned into a tremendous battle and Camilla's tears of heart ache had turned into one of blinding rage.

They couldn't even let them mourn in peace.

When not fighting or risking their very lives at the ripe age of eighteen, James and Camilla would spend their time in the Prewett or Potters households. They would play quidditch in the garden, the only place outdoors they could go without the imminent threat looming over them. When they grew tired off the heat, they'd take a cold shower to soothe their burning bodies and melt into their beds in exhaustion. Camilla took every opportunity to not be in the Prewetts home, always taking refuge at the Potter's. Mr and Mrs Potter were as welcoming as ever and saw her a daughter they had never had.

Molly had given birth to the twins.
Two beautiful boys in which she had named Fred and George, both with flaming red hair. Camilla had watched several tears escape from her mother and father's eyes when she had revealed their names, a touching tribute to her younger brothers which once were. Bill and Charlie were absolutely besotted by the new editions to the family whilst Percy seemed to be struggling with the new diversion of his parents attention. The twins certainly had a familiar talent for trouble of which Molly complained greatly about and took up much of her time. Apparently they had managed to get a hold of Arthur's wand and managed to smash every window at the burrow. That was something Camilla was desperately sad not to witness.

It was something precious and rare, happy, in a world that seemed increasingly dark in contrast to the unforgiving sun.

Camilla could always count on that side of her family to put a smile on her face.

Camilla wasn't so sure how she could carry on living at the Prewett house.

It was so excruciatingly painful.

She could see the pain in her parents faces which only made it worse.

Their terror on their faces would melt into pure relief when she would return home from a mission. And when it wasn't one of fear, it was one of numbing pain living in the house they had raised their four children in. Now, only two remained.

It wasn't until Camilla's birthday, when James had handed her a small box, when her own pain of living within the house was relieved.

They were sat crossed legged across from each other on Camilla's bed as he handed her the box.

It was wrapped neatly, courtesy of Euphemia Potter, James could not be trusted to do a decent job.

She had flipped of the lid and pulled out a set of keys that shined from the light streaming through the windows of her bedroom.

They jangled gently as she held them up.

"Keys?" she asked, tilting her head to look at James who nodded enthusiastically.

"Keys" he nodded in confirmation

"may I ask what the keys belong to?" she smiled

"The keys to your 'stupid' dream"

Camilla's eyes widened in realisation.

"James!" she gasped, "You haven't, it's far too much, I can't accept this"

"Oh shut up Cam" He laughed closing her hand around the key with his own, "You deserve it more than anyone I know. And don't for one second think it's all yours!"

"You bought it..." Camilla whispered in disbelief

"Your very own shell cottage"

Shell cottage was everything Camilla had dreamed of and more. A gentle breeze blew off the sea and whipped her hair.

James watched her unlock the door with a ginormous grin on her face. Her hair blew wildly in the wind and the colour of her skin matched the golden brown of the sand. Camilla looked as if she belonged by the sea. She had such a homely beautiful costal look. It was funny how people's surroundings rubbed off on their appearance.

Inside it was ready decorated. Minimalistic but just to Camilla's taste. It had several small bedrooms and the walls were decorated with shells and paintings of the scenery.

Hanging up the wind chime and looking around and out the window and then to James, she had an overwhelming feeling that perhaps everything would turn out just fine in the end.