Author's Note: HArry Potter and everything that goes with it belongs to Mrs. J.K. Rowling. Obviously. Just a little idea I thought of one night, enjoy!

-Kirby



Music blared freely, circulating wildly about the room. It weaved in and out of his ears, softly cooing him. The floorboards creaked with each passing footfall, the sound barely audible over the slightly off pitch singing coming from the other room.

"La-la-la-la." The redhead sang, slightly off key, but not half bad.

The room was medium sized, a large caramel colored couch was settled in the far corner. Bookshelves adorned the opposite wall, a muggle square glass like contraption with moving pictures was perched on a dark mahogany coffee table. A fiery haired woman was traipsing about the room, her hair tied in a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck. Checkered flannel pants hung loosely on her hips and a baggy tee shirt engulfed up her petite frame.

Her smile was broad, light reflected in her eyes. James Potter couldn't help but allow a similar lopsided grin to grace his features. Lily picked up James, or at least the miniature version of the young toddler's father. Harry let out a squeal of delight, before beginning to shriek "Mummy! Mummy!"

Balancing Harry on her hips she did a little twirl, the small boy shrieking even more loudly as she did so. Lily stopped in mid-turn as she spotted James, hovering near the threshold to the living room.

"James!" she begun, embarrassment evident in her quivering voice.

"Yes, dear, that is my name. I almost half-expected you to begin calling me Potter again." he said, humor dancing in his hazel eyes.

Pink rushed to her cheeks as she quickly cast her large, emerald eyes downward. She shifted Harry to her other hip as the boy placed his cupped fist into his mouth. Lily reached for his hand and gently removed the obstruction blocking out her son's smile.

James grinned at his beautiful wife and son, happiness swelling in his chest as a large balloon might do. In an even more British laced accent than usual he cheekily asked, "M'lady, may I have this dance?"

Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed her free hand and twirled her. Harry screeched in excitement and James clutched Lily's body closer to her own. His eyes glinted and his mind was soon taken to another place, another time. Not necessarily happier, but just another moment in the intricate strands of the tapestry he and Lily had weaved together.


It was a starlit night, all other romantic clichés occupied the blackened sky. The Hogwarts gardens were in bloom, soft roses of many colors peeking their heads out of their soft, green shells and beautiful off white gardenias sent out a smell so lovely and pure, that even Slytherins had to break into a small grin. A younger, seventeen year old James Potter sat on a stone bench as the bells chimed in twelve o'clock. It had been here that a meeting had been arranged, one that required careful planning and whose planner was currently-James glanced at his watch- about thirty seven seconds late to. He sighed heavily, palms collecting a thin veneer of moisture between themselves, due to the friction of the constant wringing they had been subjected to.

A redhead rushed down the stone steps, cursing silently as she did so. Would he still be there? Lily Evans had been on here way out of the portal when another prefect had stopped her to ask questions concerning their rounds. She snapped that perhaps he should know his own damn rounds by now, forgetting that they had changed the day before due to various student conflicts.

Another sigh, similar to that of the one in the gardens, was heaved. 'Bloody hell,' she didn't have time to concern herself with the Hufflepuff's feelings. At least, not when he was waiting for her. James. They had been officially together for a mere six months, yet she knew that this was it. Every person got their perfect match, the one they were destined for. Someone they could scream and yell at, fight liked caged cats, yet still want to lie beside in the cold hours of the night. And she had found him.

Footsteps crushed the newly greened grass, James looked up. Hazel met emerald and the world around the two lover's ignited.

"Lily."

"James"

They said, simultaneously. Milliseconds trickled by, soon followed by seconds. Words were not needed, they could not be used to describe the beauty that this one single moment brought. One moment in all of the fabric of reality, one heartbeat coursing through one's body. But that was all it took. It was the first moment, either of them realized that they were in love.



With a simple peck upon Lily's soft, pink lips, James conveyed that he was also remembering that night in the gardens. Harry giggled and James turned to his son. The boy was just fifteen months, yet he had transformed his life in ways he hadn't thought possible. The toddler had brought him closer to Lily and shared a love just as strong as that between his wife and himself. The moment was still, quiet, serene. A perfect postcard for happiness. That was, until the gate creaked.

It was impossible, a trick of the mind. Muggles couldn't see the cottage and besides that there were only three people that could have opened the gate. Two of which were on Auror duty and one who hadn't been seen in quite a few days. An alarm rang from within the house. Oh god, no. The secret had been spilt. Voldemort was here. James let go of Lily, Harry stopped laughing. His face was solemn as he gave her one quick, passionate kiss. He already knew he would never kiss those luscious lips again.

"Lily, he's here! Take Harry and run!" he roared, looking about for where he had tossed his wand.

Lily fought back tears as she tore upstairs. 'James is going to die, I'm going to die, Harry's…not going to die." she said, with a sudden hardness and finality.

Downstairs the door swung open with ease as the cloaked figure stood menacingly in the path. James Potter breathed his last breath as he blocked the stairway and soon fell to the ground, eyes glazed over before he hit the floor.

'Lily, my love. Harry, my son. I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you.'

Then the world went black.


Upstairs, in the master bedroom of the simple, two story cottage, Lily Potter was frantically trying to conjure up some plan to save her only son, and (if possible) herself. She knew running would do no good, he would only track her down and murder her even slower than he already intended to do so.

"Lily, my dear, so nice to meet you." A snakelike voice drifted through the small room, chilling the marrow in her bones.

She dropped Harry in his crib and spun around, her body shielding the only thing she lived for now. She stared, her emerald orbs wide and clearly frightened beyond all means of sanity. Voldemort took several, slow steps towards her, his wand out like a sword.

"It doesn't have to be this way. You don't have to die. Give me the boy and we'll forget your blood status, you can join me." he said, persuading her.

She did not waver "No."

She spread her arms wider to completely ensconce Harry. He was in touching distance now.

"Come on Lily. You can start over, get remarried and have another baby. Perhaps a girl this time?"

"NO!" she screamed.

He became more forceful, his charisma slid off of him and in its place stood a power bordering on insanity.

"Move you silly girl, I don't want to have to kill you." he said, his eyes narrowed and his weapon pointed directly at her heart.

She raised her chin defiantly and whispered. "Not Harry, please. He's just a baby!"

Her defiant whispers soon grew to desperate screams, "Please! Take me instead! Not Harry! No! No!"

"I've had enough of you!" He said, eyes gleaming with hate.

He moved his wand in a half circular motion yelling out the two fateful words. "Avada Kedavra!"

Lily Potter was dead before she hit the ground. The only thing in Tom's way was the boy. He stared quizzically at the young child and laughed madly. This, this? Was supposed to be the one to be the cause of his downfall. This one year old child born to a mudblood? Ha. But he would take no chances, besides, he was probably doing the boy a favor. With no parents, he would be left to be raised by that idiot Black. In fact, he wasn't a murderer, just one who was ushering in a new reign for the Wizarding world. His reign. He raised his wand, pointing it at Harry's forehead.

"Avada Kevada." he said, simply, devoid of sympathy and guilt.

This little night had been fun, but he had more important tasks at hand. Like, perhaps, taking over all wizards and ridding their world of muggle and halfbreed filth? As soon as the spell connected with young Harry, there was a bright, white light. In a span of no more than three seconds, Harry (with a newly formed lightening bolt scar that would become quite famous in his world) sat still, silently wondering when his mummy would rise up and clap at how good he had been and his daddy would laugh and toss him in the air. Voldemort had disappeared, drawing enough strength out of his broken shell to do only that. He wasn't heard of again, at least for a little while. The one year old baby boy who had, just minutes ago, ridded an evil from the world sat rocking back in forth, listening to a familiar tune floating up from downstairs.

"La-la-la-la."


Author's Note: Sad huh? Thanks go out to my lovely beta, Pipsky, for all of her help. Reviews make a happy author, so please press that lovely button. I'm thinking about writing a prequel, about their married life and maybe about how they got together. But, it all depends on how everyone likes this fic so...review. Thanks for reading!

-Kirby