Psalm 23 by Rumors
Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing.
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
Lily removed the last of the Halloween decorations from the ceiling with ease. Granted, it had taken James reminding her that she was a witch to use a charm to clean up the house with her wand. She was born and raised a muggle and some things didn't change.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters.
The window broke, glass flying into the house. She flung her arms up to shield her face. Her arms were covered in blood. Lowering her arms, she saw a green light and a silhouette of a person walking the same path children in costumes had earlier that night. It only took a second to realize that they had been betrayed. Their faith in Peter misplaced. Lily's heart broke a little at that.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake.
"Lily, run!" James screamed. That jolted her back into the present. She hesitated. Go. Stay. James. Too many choices. She wanted to fight, she wanted to protect. "The baby! Get Harry, run!" he yelled again. That was the last she saw of him, running out of the house, wand held high. His glasses were slightly askew, dust settled on his fine black hair. He had looked at her with so much love.
She couldn't stand there much longer, so she ran. Harry, her baby, their baby. Get him to safety. Where is safe? Hogwarts. Dumbledore. She ran up the stairs. Harry had started to cry.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.
Stairs. Hallway. Room. Baby. Lily picked up Harry, trying to quiet him down. She grabbed random things and put them in a small bag. Essentials. And only for Harry.
Harry stopped crying just long enough for Lily to hear, "Avada Kedavra!" from downstairs. James was dead. He never would have said those words. She froze; her mind unable to truly understand that her husband was dead. Then Harry wailed. She realized she had left her wand downstairs.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
She dropped the bag and went to the window. Someone was coming up the stairs, and she did want to think about who that someone could be. The window was an old, heavy construction that was difficult to open under normal circumstances. Between the sweat on one hand and Harry in the other it was impossible. But she wouldn't put Harry down. She wouldn't let go of her baby.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
"Give me the child and I will spare you," he said. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You-Know-Who. Voldermort. Evil.
Lily kneeled on the floor, hysterical. Some small part of her mind that was still rational tried to get her to do something, anything rather than just sitting there. So she did. "No, not Harry!" she screamed. No one, no one would harm her child while she still lived. She had loved him even before he had been born, and she would be damned if she was going to let him be taken without a fight. "You cannot have my son!"
Voldermort leveled his wand at her and calmly cast the killing curse. The last thing she heard was the dark wizard's voice hissing below the wail of her son, just before her body fell to the floor.
Amen.