Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter or the poem 'A Nativity', which I seem to recall was written by Yeats. So he owns it. Not me.

What woman hugs her infant there?

Lily Potter stared out of the window at the still, dark night, and hummed a lullaby to the baby she held against her, jigging from foot to foot in an effort to lull the almost-one-year-old Harry to sleep. Her efforts seemed to be working, as the small body in her arms was relaxing, as her son began to slip into slumber. The strains of 'Rock-a-bye baby' filled the tiny nursery, and the soft light from the wand lamps on the walls produced a very soporific effect when combined with the murmur of her voice, and Lily felt a wave of tiredness wash over her as well.

Another star has shot her ear.

The sky was high and clear, without a cloud in, and the stars were so bright tonight that Lily felt that almost, she wouldn't need the moon to see by, although there was a huge crescent moon swinging lazily over Godric's Hollow. The balmy night was beautiful, and she was content. Downstairs, she could hear James crashing about in the sitting room, almost certainly trying to find something that he had previously mislaid.

Satisfied that Harry had finally dropped off to sleep, she gently laid him down in the cot, covering him lightly with the knitted blanket that her mother had given her, and with a flick of her wand turned the lamps down. She padded out of the room, her sock-clad feet making no sound on the wooden floor, and closed the door gently behind her.

What made the drapery glisten so?

Stopping on the stairs to close the curtains over the small window on the landing, she rested her head briefly against the wall, closing her eyes as the stresses of the day overcame her for a moment. Raising the wards had been the most tiring part of today; the sheer effort of will involved made sure that the caster had the most appalling headache for the rest of the day. But, she thought as she straightened up again, if it kept them safe, even the most diabolical of migraines was worth it.

She continued down the narrow stairs, into the hall and through into the kitchen, where she found her husband sitting with his head in his hands at the table, poring over a document.

'What's that, love?'

He glanced up as she spoke, and smiled briefly before turning his attention back to the paper.

'Just some instructions Dumbledore left behind, about what to do if we think Peter's been got at.' He pushed back his chair, which scraped unpleasantly on the floor, and walked over to Lily. 'Not that there's much chance of that, fortunately. Glass of wine?'

'I'd kill for one.'

Not a man, but Delacroix.

She thought again, as she gazed fondly at him wrestling with a recalcitrant cork, how truly lucky she was. Gorgeous and intelligent, she thought mischievously, as her mind slipped back into schoolgirl mode. Who could ask for more? As the cork finally gave way, and her glass filled with rich red wine, she knew the answer.

What made the ceiling waterproof?

'Did you manage to ward the roof today?'

She shook her head. 'No, I was going to get up there early tomorrow. That and the front door, because we needed it unwarded today, to make sure that we keyed in Peter to all the other wards. I'll stick an extra-strong bunch of protections on there tomorrow morning.'

James smiled at her, and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. 'Sounds good to me.'

Landor's tarpaulin on the roof.

'So, what's for supper tonight, oh chef du jour?'

'Rub it in that it's my turn for supper, why don't you,' James grumbled as he turned away and began to hunt for the saucepans in the little cupboard under the counter. 'Don't suppose I can get away with beans and toast?'

'Absolutely not!' Lily laughed, as she watched the mock-crestfallen expression spread over her husband's face. 'I'm awaiting my usual treat of nouveau cuisine, if you don't mind.'

'One spear of asparagus it is. Would you be wanting a pea with that?'

What brushes fly and moth aside?

A couple of stray moths threw themselves fruitlessly against the window in a vain attempt to reach the allure of the lighted kitchen as the couple enjoyed what proved to be a relatively respectable meal, James having managed to locate some rice and pancetta in the cooled cupboard.

Lily re-read the paper that the Headmaster had left behind.

'Seems a bit worried, doesn't he? Does he seriously think there's a traitor?'

'It would appear that way. Sirius…suspects it may be Remus.'

'What?'

'Mm. Something to do with the inherent dark in his nature, from what I could deduce from his babbling.'

'No, that can't be right. Remus would never do anything like that.'

James shrugged. 'Well, anyway, there's not a lot we can do about it tonight, love, so I would suggest we stop trying to put the world to rights.'

Lily sighed. It was, perhaps, slightly irritating that he was always so bloody right.

Irvine and his plume of pride.

It was on her way down the hall to the sitting room that Lily felt the slight sensation, somewhat akin to an electric shock, crackle across her skin. In an instant, her wand was in her hand, and she was running to meet James, who was also starting out of the room.

'Did you feel - ?'

'Yes.' Terse, to the point. 'Lily, you know what this could be. Someone's just crossed the wards – it could very well be You-Know-Who, for all we know. I want you to stay out of the way, it's probably nothing, just someone we forgot to key into the wards today, I want you to stay back anyway, do you understand me?'

'James, no, I can't leave you alone…'

'Lily, just do it!'

She knew not to argue when he used that tone of voice, and slipped back to the shadows of the stairs.

What hurries out the knave and dolt?

It was from here that she saw the flash of red light fill the hallway, and knew that someone had forced entrance – through one of the only two weak spots in the armour of the house. If it had been warded…but no time to think of that now. Now, all that mattered was to find out who it was.

She saw James inch cautiously closer, wand held ready, and leap back as the door crashed open to reveal a tall, cloaked figure on the threshold.

James' panicked shout echoed in her ears as she fled up the stairs, the unthinkable resounding around her brain.

'Lily, take Harry and go! It's Him! I'll hold him off…'

Peter had betrayed them. Peter had betrayed them. Peter was the traitor…

Talma and his thunderbolt.

She flew into the nursery to find Harry already awake and standing, clinging onto the edge of his cot. Scooping him up, she scrambled frantically to find the pre-keyed Portkey always on her…

..And from behind she felt, rather than saw, the rush of power and a sickly green light that she knew meant that her husband was gone.

Tears streaming down her face, she realised in an awful moment of revelation that the Portkey was in her coat pocket in the hall downstairs. Even as she turned around, though, the door was blasted inwards, and Lily Potter was face-to-face with Voldemort.

He was tall, and skeletally thin, and his voice was icy.

'Stand aside…'

Why is the woman terror-struck?

Her voice finally resurfaced, croaky and frightened, but there.

'No, please, not Harry…'

His reply was impatient, and curt.

'Stand aside, you silly girl.'

'No, not Harry, please, kill me instead…'

And horrified, she saw his acquiescent nod, saw his raised wand…

..and understood in that moment that her son was saved.

Thus it was in one fierce moment that Lily Potter faced her death.

'Avada Kedavra!'

Empty eyes stared at the ceiling, as a baby wailed on the floor.

Can there be mercy in that look?