In Search of Sanctuary

Wishing a very happy birthday to MoonytheMarauder1! I hope you enjoy this little one-shot using the prompts Voldemort wins!AU, loss, and JamesLily.

IPC 204 - Dialogue - "There was a war. We lost." (Voldemort Wins!AU) Ghislain Delacour
365 #128 - Grime

[Warnings: loss of a child]

o . o . o

James set Lily down on a rock, watching her slump down, unable or unwilling to hold herself up. The past few days had taken their toll on her, and though James felt it as well, he had to keep going for her sake. They wouldn't have been safe if they stayed in Godric's Hollow - James knew that eventually Voldemort would come back for them. He had left victorious, celebrating his power after murdering their son, drunk on his own glory. He had left them in the misery of their loss and the hopelessness of what now lay ahead. But James knew that he would never be satisfied with that, and so long as they stayed in England, they were in danger.

He had taken on the mantle of their safety, dragging Lily along with him. She said to leave her, that she didn't care if she died anymore, but James did. He wasn't ready to die and he wasn't ready to live without her.

"C'mon, Lils, eat something," James begged his wife, tearing off a small piece of baguette.

She waved him away feebly, like she was swatting halfheartedly at a bothersome fly.

"Please," he pressed, tucking her hair back with a concerned look on his face.

"Bonjour, mes amis!" a boisterous voice greeted, and James spun around, one hand on his wand and the other reaching behind him to keep a hold of Lily.

Approaching them through the forest was a short man with smoothly combed black hair and bright hazel eyes that seemed to be like liquid laughter. Something about the man immediately put James at ease, and he relaxed slightly, although keeping a tight grip on his wand.

"Comment ça-va?" the man asked, and James strained to remember his French lessons.

"Nous cherche… cherchons… une ville qui s'appelle Quiberon?" she said, stumbling a little over his conjugations.

"Ah, you are English!" the main exclaimed. "My name is Ghislain Delacour, and I happen to be from Quiberon. I could help you get there if you like, Mister…?"

"Pot-Pottinger," James lied quickly, deciding that it was best if the stranger didn't know their real identities. "James Pottinger, and my wife, Lily."

He didn't like to give their first names, but he knew that Lily wouldn't be able to remember a false one, so he was left with little choice. It seemed to be the first time that Mr. Delacour had noticed Lily sitting behind James. His eyes swept over her, noting the ragged appearance of her clothes and her unwashed hair.

"What happened?" Ghislain asked, lowering his voice.

"There was a war. We lost," James answered, suddenly feeling the weight of all that had happened to them. He knew Lily's crushing grief, and he half wished her could collapse next to her on the damp leaves. "It cost us everything."

"I am sorry," Ghislain said, resting his hand over his heart as a cloud of sadness passed over his face. "Please, my wife and I would be happy to host you for as long as it takes to get back on your feet.

"We couldn't impose -"

"You would be doing us a favor - Apolline is from a big family, and I knew she misses having a full house and plenty of mouths to feed."

"If-if you're sure," James said, with a glance at Lily to try and gauge if she had any feelings on the subject. "It might be nice to have a bed for a night or two, that's all."

"My boy!" he exclaimed, though Ghislain only appeared to be roughly ten years older than James. "You may stay with us two years if it will help you recover. The French are a very friendly people."

His last sentence made James snort with laughter, but he managed to conceal it with a hasty cough. It wouldn't do to anger his new host.

"It may be easier for your wife if we take a portkey - we are still some way from Quiberon," he continued. James hesitated, but Ghislain seemed to anticipate his concern. "I specialize in untraceable portkeys - my own invention. I think it will be even better than walking, no one will know where you are if you do not wish them to."

"Alright," James agreed.

He turned to help gather Lily, wrapping his arm around her waist and bearing most of her weight. When he turned back around, Ghislain was holding a tree branch that was glowing a deep purple. Without hesitation, he took hold of it, and was surprised when Lily reached out and rested her hand on top of her own volition. They were promptly sucked through space, pulled to their new location as if they were fish caught on a reel.

With a distinct thump, the trio hit the ground in front of a sweet little country home. A neatly trimmed hedge circled the property, hiding just enough to maintain the privacy of the family. Tamed vines of ivy climbed the pastel walls, a nice and homely touch. Each of the upper windows had a rounded wire box holding beautiful cascading flowers. Ghislain pushed open the little wooden gate, holding it for James and Lily to pass through, and it was like crossing a barrier. Immediately, the sounds of birds chirping and the shrieks of a little child filled their ears.

"We placed enchantments around the property," Ghislain explained upon seeing their surprised faces. "Little children are often prone to accidents, so we made it so that anyone outside the property will only ever see an empty yard. But in reality, we are outside almost all the time and we keep chickens and augureys, and a few mooncalves."

As they rounded the house, they saw an exquisitely beautiful woman playing with a little girl about four years old. The two were practically twins, with the same silvery blonde hair - the little girl's was tied in two long braids, while the mother's hung loose and blew on every light breeze.

"Apolline, ma chère," Ghislain said jovially, kissing his wife on the cheek and then turning to his daughter, who was already charging toward him at full speed. He lifted her into the air and tossed her up, before settling her on his hip as she buried her face happily into his shoulder.

"Bonjour Papa," she mumbled, her smile wide and carefree.

"I have brought with me James and Lily Pottinger," Ghislain announced to his little family. "They are refugees from England, and they need somewhere to stay for a little while. I have offered them the spare room for as long as they would like."

"Of course, please stay with us," Apolline greeted.

The child wriggled in her father's arms, and he placed her back on the ground, her bare feet landing on soft grass. She skipped over to the two newcomers and gave them an appraising look, before grinning at them too.

"Bonjour!" she said happily. "My name is Fleur, I'm four!

Lily smiled and knelt down, reaching her hand out to shake Fleur's.

"It's nice to meet you, Fleur, I'm Lily," she answered.

After exchanging their greetings, Fleur hopped away again, to return to playing in the open field. Lily stood and turned toward James, and he didn't miss the tears that were building in her eyes. He reached out to her, drawing her close, but he still felt immensely proud of her. It was the first moment she had seemed like her old self for even a second. Even still, James knew that she was imagining what their son would have been like at four years old, if he'd been given the chance. Would he still have looked as much like James? What things would he have liked? James tried to swallow his own grief at the thought, turning his attention back to their hosts.

"I will start preparing dinner for us," Apolline said kindly, placing her hand on her husband's arm. "Ghislain will show you to the bedroom, and you can rest or tidy up as you like."

"Thank you," James replied, and they followed Ghislain once more.

The interior of the house was just as charming, filled with whites and pale blues and pretty china. They climbed the stairs and found their bedroom, a light green room decorated with ferns and delicate flowers. There was a bathroom down the hall, and James seized on the opportunity to wash the grime from his skin. They had few other clothes to wear, having departed from Godric's Hollow with great haste, but it would do for now, and James could go into the town in the morning to find them some more.

Apolline cooked a delicious coq au vin for the little group, and they sat down together at the heavy wooden table that she had laid with pretty silver plates. Fleur chatted away throughout the dinner, and seemed to be the only one who didn't see the haunted look in Lily's eyes. Imperfect as he was, James found himself resenting the little girl a bit, though he tried to remind himself that it wasn't her fault that his son was dead.

"Fleur," Apolline said when they were finished eating, "it's time for bed."

The little girl skittered off to bed, leaving the four adults behind to discuss what brought them together.

"Please, tell us about your journey here," Apolline coaxed, pouring them all tea.

James began to tell the tale in great detail, from just about the beginning. He told of Voldemort's ascent to power, the atrocities committed, and the betrayals they had faced, all leading to their loss of their son. He shared their grief and the hole that had been left behind, how he suspected it would never heal. Lily was quiet as he spoke, her eyes downcast and her expression grim.

"We had to leave," James explained. "We heard that Quiberon was a safe haven for wizards in France, so it seemed like as good a place as any to start. Although I'm not sure staying this close to England is wise - his reach is long."

"He won't stop with England," Lily said in a warning tone, only the second time she had spoken in days. Her voice was low and scratchy from crying and a lack of use. "He'll never stop now. He'll just keep taking over until he's killed every muggle-born and then he'll probably start culling the muggles."

Ghislain and Apolline exchanged significant looks, but James couldn't tell exactly what they were thinking. Oddly enough, there was somewhat of a language barrier when it came to expressions and body language as well.

"We will fight him," Ghislain said at last, with a nod of agreement from his wife. "Of course, we must fight against this evil."

"We tried," Lily sighed, tears springing to her eyes again. "It cost us our son. Is that a sacrifice you're willing to make?"

Apolline immediately glanced toward the staircase, where little Fleur had toddled off to bed only a short while earlier. No doubt she was imagining the kind of pain Lily felt and trying to decide if it could ever be worth it. Once James had thought that anything could be sacrificed if it meant stopping evil. He was prepared to die for the cause, and he knew Lily was too. But never in a thousand years had he expected his infant son to become a victim of this war. What kind of person targeted babies?

Darkness had fallen around the house hours earlier, but now it felt as though it had taken hold within as well. The hearts of all four adults felt heavy with the thought of what could happen if they continued in the fight. Though much had been sacrificed already, there was still a great deal they could lose.