[Lily's left her SFC on her vanity while she puts certain curse-affected significant others to bed. She has a six-year-old James in her lap on the bed, a book open in their laps. She reads the story aloud to him, pausing as he points out something in an illustration and turns back to look at her for a moment, an adoring look on his six-year-old face reminiscent of that same look on his seventeen-year-old face, and still at twenty-one, too. She tightens her arms around him, overcome with affection for him, for a moment. Oh, and what a wonderful opportunity to play mum to this little boy. James laughs and she squeezes him one more time before returning to the story. The feed cuts off.]