Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I make any profit from this story.
A/N: Children of the Dark Year is supposed to be about Hogwarts' students in Harry's year, most likely before they started attending the school. It is and will remain compatible with the canon. Also, I am not quite sure what to do next, so I would appreciate any suggestions, that is, any compatible:-). I would also appreciate all kind of constructive feedback.
Children of the Dark Year: AchillesShe felt dizzy, but it was no time for weakness. She had to be strong, for James, for Harry, for herself… Noticing a stone on the road too late she tripped and her knees hit the mud and pebbles painfully, but the small bundle in her arms was safe.
The night was dark, and she doubted even the stars would have made it seem lighter. The heavy clouds overhead had decided to take a break in sheding raindrops and smother her with their insubstantial weigth. She bit her lip, suppressed tears and scrambled to her feet to continue the journey.
Reaching the wards she risked a look back. All windows were dark. That was exactly how she didn't want it to be, yet at the same time hoped it would – never had she dreamed that one day she would use her potion-brewing skills against her husband… but the worst nightmares imaginable were quickly becoming real all around.
James would sleep throughout it. They wouldn't attack… they couldn't… just this one night when he would be absolutely unable to defend himself, they simply couldn't… better not think about it. The wards were sound and despite what Professor Dumbledore had told them, You Know Whose forces didn't seem to show particular interest in them. She was making a huge risk here, but she would do anything, anything to protect her son. Her small sweet sleeping baby…
She caressed the bundle with her eyes, held it strong to her chest and Disapparated.
CotDY
Severus stirred as he felt the outer wards going off. Faster than an average wizard would start thinking, the wiry young man stood next to his bed, clutching his wand in his hand. Judging from the reaction of the protective spells put on the area, the intruder held no hostile intentions. But one could never be cautious enough, and the two decades he had lived weren't exactly peaceful.
The second line consisted mostly of identification means and he was surprised to find out that there was a pair of people – a male and a female – with no desire to harm him in any way and knowing perfectly well where they were going. In his state of mind he was anything but curious about who could they be. He moved quickly and efficiently around the room, gathering a pair of black pants he had discarded before going to bed and a moderately stained black robe, and putting them on along his way upstairs.
The prolongation between the disruption of the second and the third line hadn't last lasted more than twenty seconds. Whoever the late-night visitors were, they seemed eager to meet him for they were running.
Severus pushed the hidden door closed and stood relaxed in the centre of the room he hated most in the world. At least the people who made it to Hell on Earth for him were dead. Buried. Not likely to come back… He counted silently, if for nothing else than for the sake of banishing the resurfacing memories.
'Four… three… two… one… now.'
Nothing happened. He waited – the couple stood on the threshold, he could feel the house responding to the alien magic – but the night remained still. He considered yanking the door open and deal with the nuisance swiftly, but it was rather unbecoming even for someone like him.
Finally, after a much-too-long while there was a quiet knock on the door. They knew, or at least expected, that he was waiting there.
'Perfect. I have to get up in the middle of the night, I have to speak to people and, bless me, it has to be someone with more than half a brain…' Indeed, he wasn't in the mood to do much thinking.
He didn't bother to move from the spot. A wave of his wand and a muttered word (Severus wasn't paranoid, he was aware of the danger, that was why he had put at least one set of ward more than anyone might expect on everything) caused the door to open. Soundlessly. Slowly.
The intruders didn't come closer, which only served to prove their intelligence further, but then Severus realised that there was only one person in front of his threshold.
Subconsciously, he gripped the handle of his wand harder. Despite their supposed not-ill intentions the strangers could still be dangerous. And he still couldn't identify the one he saw.
"Good evening, Severus. I hate to barge in like this but I have to talk to you…"
"Evans…" he couldn't help gasping. It was her, without a doubt. The voice and the hidden sarcasm were hers, albeit slightly altered because it, after all, was two years and she had been running recently.
"Who's there with you?" he asked, frowning. Of his former class-mates, she might have been the only one he didn't think of hexing right away after she rushed in like this, but if she had brought her 'husband'-
"Harry," she said quietly but evenly. Severus's frown deepened. He didn't remember anyone with that name. She stepped from the street into the shadowed room and he couldn't hold off making light any longer. With a flick of his wrist a row of half-burnt candles caught fire.
And then he saw who 'Harry' was. Wrapped in a disgustingly blue blanket in the woman's arms was a child. Her child. Her and Potter's child…
"What do you want?" he barked, scowling at the small shape. There was something infuriating about the way it just slightly moved and she subconsciously cradled it. Then again, it wasn't nearly as bad as if she had dragged along the older version.
"Severus…" she started and then bit her lip, searching for words of explanation. He didn't kid himself – she must have had a damn good reason to do something as desperate as search him out.
"What?" he shot at her impatiently. It was unlike her – at least had been years ago – to hesitate or generally not be outspoken.
"I need your help."
"Surprise, surprise." Just what he would have been expecting if he had allowed himself to guess. But he was used to it – hadn't he been the best, there would hardly be any people talking to him. This way he had them subdued, business-like or, occasionally, pleading – just as he liked them.
"Come tomorrow. Despite the popular belief, I'm not a vampire. And right now-"
"Severus, please. I can't come tomorrow. If I could you know I would have, but…"
His harsh reply froze on his lips. The Gryffindor Head Girl and greatest star just after the idiot she had married didn't plead. Never. It was simply something that didn't occur.
"Sit down and say what you want so I can go back to sleep." Obstinate as she was, she remained standing. He ostentatiously turned his back to her and pushed a small red book on the fifth shelf. An entire edition slightly to the right moved out and he recovered the bottle of scotch.
"I want to buy a cauldron of Caesare Potentia Superus. Tonight." Severus turned around sharply and the glowing tip of his wand touched the woman's neck. She lifted her head, vibrant green eyes shining defiantly.
"I will not brew an illegal potion for you." Those eyes flashed with familiar lightning.
"I can give you more money than you ever had."
"Potter's money," he said disgusted and uncorked the bottle.
"As if you cared. Galleons are all the same. They don't stink."
"I'm not brewing an illegal potion for you so you can feed it to that little beast of yours."
Her expression changed into one of anger and then uncertainty. Severus was watching her intently, skimming her pretty face looking for changes. Life had been good to Lily Evans. She had lost her edge. The four Gryffindor Gargoyles had spoilt her.
"Severus, please…" He narrowed his eyes, more than slightly annoyed. Not only because she had the audacity to come in the middle of the night, or that she was begging after he explicitly refused her, rather because this… this woman wasn't Evans anymore. The girl he remembered was lost in the abyss of the past.
"Have you lost your mind? Do you know what would he grow up into?" He nodded in the direction of the bundle, which was gradually unwrapping itself while she didn't pay attention to it. He could see a tiny pink hand, and while children generally annoyed him, he couldn't help feeling a pang of sympathy. He lowered his wand.
"I know. But at least I would be certain he would grow up."
Another fold of azure blanket fell and Severus stared at a baby. It was round and rosy and undoubtedly soft – revolting. It had the same eyes as Evans, just blue.
It also couldn't be older than few months…
His scowl deepened.
"How old is he?" he said and made sure she understood he wasn't asking out of interest.
"Three months," she responded quietly and, having noticed the small thing managed to unwrap itself, proceeded to re-fold the blanket around its pudgy body.
"July or August?" His breathing hitched.
"The 31st of July."
Severus felt the blood being drained from his face. Secluded here, in the Spinner's End, waiting only for instruction about which potion the Dark Lord would require next, he had no idea.
That pudgy thing was… Never mind. He couldn't change anything about it now.
"Severus, You Know Who is after us. I have to make sure my son survives this! I have a family, and while I don't want to be cruel, you have no idea what is it like to fear for-"
He sneered.
"That is not cruel, Evans. That is truth." He had never feared for his family. In fact, he had hoped for them to die as soon as possible. The Death Eaters were his family now.
"Don't call me that. If you despise James so much that you can't utter aloud the name we share, you can call me Lily."
"Why would I?"
"Indeed. Why would you? Why would you help me?" The tears had started sometime between the last two statements. Severus couldn't remember Evans cry. It was just another thing that made her someone different.
"I can-"
"I don't need money. I don't know how did you find out about that potion, just forget that it exists and go home-" Her eyes flashed and for a short while the old Evans returned.
"I can give you what you want," she said in an oddly low voice.
"What!" He cursed himself for letting his shock show. But what could he do? The Lightest witch on the surface of the Earth, the great Gryffindor Potter's wife, was offering… herself? That was kind of an offer a man does not refuse.
"No."
The tears were back.
"Please, Severus, for all that-"
He sighed and pinched the root of his nose.
"No. But I can make something else."
"Something… else…" She seemed thoughtful, but her eyes were dry within seconds and the resolve was back in them.
"All right. Anything, as long as my son lives."
CofDY
"That's the craziest idea I have ever heard," Lily said quietly, staring into the huge cauldron, not daring to oppose the young man opposite her, who was stirring a canary yellow concoction with concentration nearly unheard of. It was befitting one who held the life of her child in his hands. The potion was letting out soft puffs, a strangely calming sound.
"Clearly you never listened to your husband and his side-kicks. Besides, it had been used before. And it worked."
"He died," objected Lily and winced, biting her already bruised lip.
"Because he was an arrogant fool. If that child is like its father, not even I can avert its sticky end." The comment was disgusting and unnecessary, but she didn't reproach, afraid that the unpredictable Slytherin might decide not to finish the job. She was already paying a high price, one of the highest. But, for Harry, she would give up anything.
"Bring it here," he commanded and she, again, obeyed. Her baby was sleeping in the next room in an armchair that had about as much upholstery as the working desk. She picked up the blanket gently. The boy stirred, opening his huge blue eyes to stare at her in the shadows.
"Be brave, Harry. Be a Gryffindor," Lily whispered and carried her son to the laboratory.
The Potions Apprentice sneered and put off the fire under the oversized pot. The surface of the potion gleamed with the brightest gold, and under it something was moving, as though there were small fishes.
"I'll do it." She wanted to argue, but one look at his face was enough for her to shut her mouth before a sound escaped it. Unwillingly, she passed the bundle in her arms to the dark man. He sneered again and harshly peeled layer after layer of cloth, until he held a very naked baby boy. Harry didn't let out a sound throughout it all, staring at Snape with startling intensity.
"At least wait until the potion cools-"
"Shut up, Evans. It's not warmer than 310 kelvins. He might be sore for a few days, but it's nothing a child can't take." Lily briefly wondered how did somebody like him know that, but decided she would rather not know. She watched with worry as he suspended Harry by his left hand and lowered him into the cauldron. The tiny face contorted and her heart ached, but the boy still didn't make a sound.
"He's ill," stated Snape dryly, put his hand over the boy's face and pushed him almost completely under the glistening surface. He counted to thirteen – she knew because he subconsciously tapped his foot – and then pulled Harry out, gathering him into the blanket. The baby was pinker than would be healthy, but didn't cry. A true Gryffindor. James would have been proud.
James…
Lily forced the thoughts out of her mind. She had made a bargain and it was fair one. She kissed her little boy on the forehead, tucked the cover around him and let him rest in the same armchair.
"So, Evans, want to go all the way down or is a couch good enough for you?" She looked over to Harry, cast a wordless sleeping charm and reached up to unfasten the first clasp of her robe.
CofDY
She was still beautiful.
Severus hated himself for admitting she ever was beautiful, but he never was one to lie to himself, not even because it was thrice-cursed Potter who snatched her. Her breasts were bigger, full of milk, her stomach not quite as flat as it used to be and her hips wider… not that he had ever studied either of those parts. She was still bloody gorgeous and her showed-off maternity made her look more adult, more attractive.
His hand cupped one of those heavy breasts and he pulled her closer, so close that she would feel him getting hard against her. Her eyes were closed, but he didn't care. After all those years of wondering… tonight he would have a taste of the pretty redhead. He kissed the side of her neck and felt her tense yet more and then, slowly relax. His lips traced the path from her jugular to her mouth and he violently took claim of it.
And suddenly the pair of emerald eyes was wide and staring at him and his not quite controlled Legilimency supplied him with more James Potter than he ever cared to know – his voice, his laugh, his touch, even his bloody scent – and he flinched and jerked away from the naked woman. She gazed at him challengingly. After he had stayed up all night to brew a potion for her ill-fated spawn…
"Out! Fetch your cub and get out of here!" She summoned her wand and her clothes – they fluttered around her with a speed and precision that gave away a lot of exercise in the past – picked up the soft blue bundle and swiftly strode to the door.
"Thank you, Sever-"
"Shut up and get out!" He roared in rage. "And never come back, you or the criminal you're bonded to!" He slammed the door shut as soon as he she was in the street. The wards one by one signalled her departure, as hurried as her arrival, and he walked stiffly to the lab and surveyed the potion. It was still usable, but he didn't feel like swallowing anything a Potter bathed in. He kicked the wall. Hard. He might have broken a toe.
Evans – no, not Evans, never Evans – Potter won. Once again a Potter won. He hated her. He hated her husband. He went as far as to hate the small creature in the blue blanket.
A/N: I had a different idea about the end, but this seemed somehow… fitting. If you want this story to continue, state so in a review. Otherwise I'll move on to other characters. Thanks.