Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter and all associated characters, places, etc. JK Rowling is not me.

I'm sure this sort of thing has been done hundreds of times before, but, well, now it's been done one more. I'm just sort of experimenting at the moment, so please tell me whether my experiments have been good, bad or reasonably OK-ish.

Thanks to my Beta and Gamma readers.

She hurried upstairs, closed the door and ran to the crib, clutching Harry to her, tears of desperation streaking down her cheeks. It had been Peter. Peter! The only one they hadn't thought of. He'd always been sweet to her, holding doors for her and the like. His presence could be irritating at times, with the way he seemed to regard James as a god-like figure, and her as a goddess for being his wife, but it never even crossed her mind that he might be the spy. It had never crossed anyone's mind.

Questions rushed through her head, each one more confusing than the last. Why had Sirius been so insistent that they used Peter? Were they in league together? Why had everyone spent so much time spying on Remus when it had been so obvious, as she could see now, that it was Peter? And Peter had always had that rather dodgy excuse, as it seemed now, of visiting his sick mother. Why was it that when everyone else's whereabouts and excuses were double-checked, even triple-checked, his had never been?

She could hear noises from downstairs. 'I'll hold him off,' James had said. Lily knew her husband wouldn't be able to. All he was doing was buying time; not that there was anything she could with that time. She'd gone upstairs, after all. What a stupid thing to do! She always hated those Muggle horror stories where the heroine ran upstairs where the monster would certainly devour her, or at least kill her, and now there she was, doing it herself. She'd been an idiot and cornered herself, and in doing so, cornered her son too. Harry would die because of her. She felt her tears intensifying, and desperately tried not to let herself break down; she didn't want to attract attention to the room. Maybe in staying silent, she could save her baby. Oh, why hadn't she sent Harry away somewhere? And not told anyone, even the Secret Keeper? He'd have been safe that way, not trapped, about to face his death at the hands of Lord Voldemort.

As soon as she'd thought this, she knew it was a stupid thought. She couldn't have foreseen this; it was silly to pretend she could have. There was no point in being hysterical, or going through the 'what ifs' about all this. From the moment Voldemort had arrived, or even the moment they had made Peter their Secret Keeper, there had been no hope of survival. Even if she hadn't gone upstairs, how would she have gotten out? He had been at the door, and there was no other way out of the house, except for the windows, which she wouldn't be able to fit through. And even she had managed to escape somehow; he'd have found her anyway, no matter where she went. All she would have been doing was delaying her death, keeping herself and her son in pain. And of course he'd find her upstairs! Silence wasn't going to save them. They were all as good as dead already.

The seconds ticked by, with the suspense mounting constantly. Why wouldn't James just die? She sobbed as she thought it – she didn't want her husband to die, and she knew it was a horrible thing to think, but she knew that it was only a matter of time until he did. As he was alive, she couldn't help hoping he'd defeat Voldemort, and this hope grew every second, even though she knew it was stupid, and the blow would be worse when he didn't. Nothing was worse than knowing you and your loved ones might as well be dead, but that it hadn't quite happened yet. When she'd been younger she'd thought that being dumped was bad, or even simply arguing with her friends, but it was nothing compared to what she was going through now. Teenagers, she knew, often felt like it was the end of their world, but they wouldn't be able to understand the pain she was going through now; it was the end of her world.

There was a sudden flash of bright green light, which Lily could see through the bottom of the door. James was dead. At last she thought, and then shook her head at her own feelings. She didn't know how to feel. She was happy for him; he didn't have to suffer anymore, but of course she'd wanted him to survive. She had always thought that if James died, she'd cry more than anyone, or at least she, had ever cried, but no tears came. She just felt numb; although she'd known his death was coming, that didn't prepare her for the actual event. Thoughts of James flashed through her mind. Never again would he spin Harry around in the air and then tickle him. Never again would he surprise her with some flowers, usually lilies, when she wasn't expecting it. Never again would he call her his Lily Flower, and then kiss her with the passion he never lost all through his life, even when in deadly peril. He was always so romantic, and he'd loved her, he'd truly loved her. And now he was dead.

Without James blocking Voldemort's way, Lily knew she had no time left. She gave Harry a kiss on the head, revelling in the soft feel of his forehead against her lips, and held him to her. His hair was gently tickling the bottom of her cheek, and she couldn't help letting a few tears roll down into it, giving the hair nearest his forehead a damp feel. Unlike her, he wasn't crying; he looked almost as if he understood what was going on. Following his example, she took a deep breath and stopped herself continuing; she needed to be strong if she had any chance of survival, or at least saving Harry. She gave him a final kiss and placed him in the crib.

Her hands lingered on him until she heard a loud crash and the door burst open behind her. She turned around to see Voldemort, his wand raised, looking back at her. His lips were formed into a sneer, and she knew that any tiny chance of escape she'd had before was gone. Behind him, she could see another silhouette. She couldn't see the face, but she knew from the short, round form that it was Peter Pettigrew. Who else would it have been? Somehow, him being there made his betrayal seem even worse. He'd sent them to their death, and then came to watch? Oh, she hated him, she hated him! She wanted to go out there and kill him like he'd killed James, hurt him for all those years they'd been his friend, looked after and helped him, only to be repaid by death at the hands of Voldemort. Lily's eyes flickered back to Voldemort, who pointed his wand and yelled, "AVAD–"

Lily knew the end was coming. She wished she could save Harry, but now that she was going to die within the next few seconds, she didn't know to. She could see the manic look in Voldemort's eyes, his lips parted in speech, his wand pointed at her… no, wait, it wasn't. It was pointed slightly to her left, at Harry. He was going to kill Harry, not her. She had to stop him. James had just died trying to protect them; she wouldn't let him die in the vain. The man in front of her had just killed one of the two people she loved the most in the world; she wouldn't let him kill the other one!

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!' she screamed, moving to block her son completely. Voldemort was caught off guard by this for a second, and his eyes turned to her, surprise obvious in them. A frown was on his face, and Lily was satisfied somewhat. She'd just stopped him! But what could she do now? She realised with a pang that all she was doing was delaying him pointlessly. She couldn't save her and her baby. The frown was now a full scowl, and he looked angry, the shock which had present initially gone.

"Stand aside, you silly girl, stand aside now!" he snapped, obviously impatient. He was attempting to push her aside. Lily was stunned; Voldemort didn't want to kill her? He was giving her the chance to live? Not that she was going to take it, of course. How could she live knowing that she'd allowed Harry to be killed, that she'd just stepped aside to let him die? She wouldn't be able to live without her family anyway. And maybe her death could save Harry! She'd heard about blood protection being evoked when sacrifices were made. She didn't know if it would happen in this case, but even if she'd known it wouldn't, she wouldn't have changed what she was about to do. She had to die.

"Not Harry! Please no, take me, kill me instead!" she cried out, blocking his efforts to get to Harry. Anger very apparent on his face now, he turned his wand to her, as she had begged. She stayed strong, and didn't move. Their eyes locked; hers were defiant, his narrowed in annoyance.

"Avada Kedavra!"

As the green light came out of his wand and sped towards her, Lily felt like time was slowing down. So this was it, so this was death. Now that it was happening,she wasn't frightened of it. Perhaps it was better to die as a young, healthy woman, rather than as an old, senile woman, dying after years of pain. She didn't have many regrets; she'd accomplished a lot in her short life. She'd been Head Girl at Hogwarts; she'd gotten married and started a family; she'd made the final sacrifice to try and save her son. Yes, she regretted some things, such as never making up with her sister, but, even at 22 years old, she was ready. But Harry wasn't, and, by giving her life, she'd give him a chance to have one.

If you've read it, please review. Thank you!

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