Author's Note: Thank you so much to the handful that took the time to review, follow or favorite this story. It made my heart positively burst, as I truly had NO expectations for this story. I had chapter 2 more or less ready to go with just a few scenes left to wrap up, and your kind words spurned me on to wrap it up-so this is for you! Hoping to have Chapter 3 out for you sometime next week.
Trigger Warnings: death, murder, and I believe that's it this time? I would say this chapter is lighter but (insert side eye emoji). As always, fanfction should be fun! Reading something that might cause you mental harm? not fun. Take care of yourselves!
"Yeah I'm a keeper,
I keep digging down for the deep
Like the records I'm playing
They might keep you waiting
But you know I'm gonna play 'em for keeps"
"Bluebird," Miranda Lambert
Three years later…
Focusing intensely on the task in front of her, Lily took a slow exhale.
"Just a bit more," she whispered, eyes unblinking.
She gave one final small squeeze to the piping bag in her hand, and then stood back.
"Perfection."
Lily smiled as she reviewed her handiwork. The cake was, quite frankly, exactly what she had hoped. Slapping on a candle in the shape of a 3, she took a quick look around her to ensure she was alone and then pulled out her wand, nonverbally lighting the candle.
"Couldn't you have just done that with the frosting, too?"
Lily jumped, turning around and pointed her wand at the woman behind her who was smirking infuriatingly at her.
"Jesus, Gem," she breathed. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."
The older woman smiled elfishly, walking toward Lily and tweaking her nose.
"Yes, but you are truly adorable when you get all flustered. Your face looks just like Harry's, and since it's his birthday, I can hardly scare him, now can I?"
Lily let out a small laugh. "Didn't you literally just do that this morning when you jumped out from his closet when he playing with his trucks?"
"Semantics. I like to spread my scaring around."
"How kind of you, Gemma" Lily said, rolling her eyes but without any real malice.
"Three years old," Gemma said, suddenly sounding wistful. "How has the little peanut been around for so long?"
"No thanks to you, mind," Lily said, a gentle smile overtaking her face. "I've truly been a miracle worker."
"Arrogant of you to assume I haven't been behind your back undoing all of your mistakes along the way," the Gemma said, and Lily swatted her with a towel.
"Blasphemy!" Lily cried, while dissolving into laughter. After a moment, she quieted. "Good turn out?"
"Tons. I think his whole nursery school class plus Annie and Marcy, the Bakers, the Locklans, and a few others from town and half the staff," Gemma said, giving Lily's arm a squeeze. "I know you find this hard to believe, but people love you and Harry, Lil."
"Yeah, yeah, so I keep hearing," Lily said, her tone light, but facial expression betraying her insecurity. Gemma's words were not wrong. When Lily had first arrived in the small town nestled in the hills between West Virginia and Maryland three years ago, she had not actually thought she would find a home here or people that she would come to see as her own. Her walls had been up a mile high, undoubtedly because of her past, both recent and stretching back to her childhood. She had been guarded and secretive, afraid to let people in, and only a small portion of that was due to the prophecy that marked the child she carried.
Gemma had changed that.
Lily was not exactly sure to what higher power she owed gratitude for bringing the spunky, older woman into her life, but she would never stop whispering quiet "thank yous" to that being just to ensure her eternal thankfulness was known.
When she had arrived, Gemma had taken one look at her and put both hands on her cheeks and gave her a quick peck on her forehead, something that had made Lily pull back instantly, but Gemma would not be refused.
"Look at you," Gemma had said in that accent that had sounded so strange to Lily at the time, but she would soon become adjusted to, would soon come to love. "As skittish as a rabbit. You're safe now, you understand? He can't hurt you here."
The "he" Gemma referred to was undoubtedly Lord Voldemort, but at that moment, Lily's mind went to another "he" who had just as much ability to hurt her, wound her. She had let out a shaky breath.
"I'm Lily," she had said, her voice a bit unsteady.
"Oh good," Gemma had said. "This would have been terribly awkward if Albus had sent me the wrong pregnant teen. Gemma Oleo," she introduced herself as she brought Lily in for a quick hug. "Welcome to Maddox, West Virginia."
"Thanks," she had said, sounding a bit squeaky even to her own ears. She took a moment to look over Gemma, her pixie cut silver hair and teasing smile. She was taller than Lily, but not overly tall. A bit stocky, but by no means overweight. She was tan with mischievous brown eyes and had wrinkles around her eyes and mouth—laugh lines, if Lily had to guess due to her jovial attitude upon Lily's arrival. Most importantly, she looked at Lily like she was genuinely happy to have her there. Her heart had soared.
"Now honey," Gemma continued, "As much as I'd like to stand out here on the porch all night we have eight—I kid you not—eight new arrivals checking in tomorrow. So, let's get you up and settled in for the night. We have all the time in the world to become fast friends."
Lily finally let her eyes wander from Gemma to the large porch they were standing on. It was open and wrapped around the back with several rocking chairs positioned throughout. The house itself was blue with cheerful red shutters and appeared to be quite large. A sign above the door called it "The Inn at Maddox," giving Lily some sort of clue as to where she was.
"Is this a hotel?" Lily asked.
"The only one in town. There are plenty of rentals, but we have cornered the market on hotels!" Gemma said, guiding Lily toward the door and flicking her wand over her shoulder to levitate Lily's trunk to follow them.
"I'm sorry—we?" Lily asked.
"We, as in myself and my late husband, Max, rest his soul. This was his family's for decades and I inherited it when he passed."
"Oh," Lily said, feeling awkward. "Sorry?"
"Ah, water under the bridge. The good news is, you and I will make it a good home for your little bun in the oven," Gemma said fondly, patting Lily's bump.
Lily felt her heart swell a bit—a home. This woman, a stranger, had already exuded more kindness and welcoming in ten minutes than Lily had felt in any foster home she had been placed in her whole life.
"I got a room ready for you," Gemma continued, oblivious to Lily's emotional state. "It's near mine, so we don't often have guests in that part. I imagine you'll keep the baby in there with you for a bit, but we can get the room next to yours ready as a nursery once you've settled in a bit."
All of this was said as she ushered Lily into what may have once been a parlor, but was now a lobby, where Lily took in the large wooden steps and high ceilings. The home probably had, at one point, been a great manor home, but it seemed someone (probably Gemma) had made a point of making it homier and less formal. Pictures adorned the walls which were a warm yellow; there were fresh flowers in unmatched vases scattered around the room. As the two climbed the stairs, Lily's trunk continued to bounce along behind them as Gemma chatted about color schemes and themes for the nursery.
"Is this place magical?" Lily finally voiced, as she noticed the pictures did not move, even as Gemma did magic freely in the open.
"God no," Gemma said. "Honey, this is West Virginia. Do you really think we can do magic in the open? No, very much a no-maj town. We are right near a large lake, so lots of tourists in and out throughout the year, but no signs of magic as far as I can see other than me. Exactly what Albus wanted."
Lily nodded as Gemma continued to lead her to her room which was about the same size as her former Head dorm, but beautifully decorated in ivories and rose gold.
"Well, will this work?" Gemma asked, looking so optimistic, so hopeful.
Lily nodded. "Yes, this will do perfectly," she said, her throat tightening a bit.
Gemma gave her shoulder a final squeeze. "I'll let you rest up, then. Find me tomorrow when you wake. I want you to rest as much as you need. You've had an ordeal."
Lily nodded and muttered her thanks and good night. To her surprise, Gemma pulled her in for a hug.
"You are safe here. You are home."
Lily gave her a quick squeeze back as tears fell from her eyes. Home.
In the weeks that had followed, Gemma and Lily fell into a consistent routine. They would wake and take breakfast together before taking a walk around the small town of Maddox to check in with all of the locals ("Gossip, Lily," Gemma had told her, "is the life-blood of small towns. Whatever is going on around here is probably ten times more interesting than anything you'll watch on the T.V."). From there, they'd head back to the hotel and Lily would help Gemma with anything that needed done. There was a staff of maids and bellboys, as well as a kitchen staff, but Gemma liked to have her hands in everything, so Lily learned quickly to pitch in however she could. She helped in the garden or made beds, did laundry, or polished silverware.
Once the chores were done and things settled down, Gemma would take Lily to her room, which had certainly been magically enlarged, and helped her continue her studies. True to Dumbledore's word, Gemma was wickedly talented at a variety of subjects and Lily found that she enjoyed this one-on-one tutoring far more than she ever enjoyed the classroom at Hogwarts. Gemma, Lily learned, had taught briefly at Hogwarts as a charms professor before Flitwick arrived, but had ultimately followed her heart back home to West Virginia and Max, her childhood sweetheart, after two years. After Lily had completed her course work for the day, the two would take dinner together with whichever staff members were on break or guests were around, before settling in for the night to read quietly or watch a show or movie on the television. Every night before Lily turned in, Gemma gave her a quick hug and reminded her she was safe and she was home.
Lily found that she loved living and working at the hotel; it was not the most exciting place, but overtime, as she helped out with various tasks and getting to know the other staff, she found herself coming more and more out of her shell, which Lily suspected had been Gemma's goal all along. Soon, she found herself actually being invited out, for girl's night, of all things, which consisted of playing bunko at Suzanne the receptionist's sister-in-law's house. She went to town events in the little square and found that people actually waved to her, the staff even went so far as to throw her a baby shower, with many of the women from the town attending.
She knew much of this was probably due to Gemma at first, as Gemma was beloved by the town and the townspeople believed Lily was her widowed great-niece ("But I'm eighteen," Lily had argued when Gemma told her it was vitally important they say she had been married, but Gemma stood her ground; "Folks around here are conservative. You are a widow"), but as the final month of her pregnancy closed in, Lily had something she had never had before: a support system.
That support system was something she desperately needed the early morning of July 31 when she woke up to pee around 2 A.M. only to find water surging out of her. Initially, Lily thought she had just peed herself, and with a chuckle, went to grab her wand to vanish the mess.
Then, however, came the pain.
"Jesus Christ," Lily had called out as an intense pressure enveloped her, causing her head to cloud for a moment and the room to sway slightly. She gripped her bed tightly, forcing breaths in and out.
"Gem!" she all but screamed through the pain.
Gemma had burst through the door, and upon seeing Lily in the state she was, ran back out of the room only to return moments later with a vial.
"Pain potions, honey," Gemma said. "You told me you wanted these as part of the birth plan."
Lily reached a hand out, but nearly toppled over in pain. "Gimme," she grunted.
The potions helped to take away the worst of it, but the pressure—god, the pressure—still remained. It was as if her abdomen was being squeezed by a rubber band.
After that, Gemma quickly got Lily to the hospital where she was fussed over by doctors and nurses, and as the morning evolved, people she knew from the town, who wiped her brow and fed her ice chips and brought in flowers. It was a revolving door of visitors and well-wishers, all encouraging her through the early stages of her labor.
Eventually, the visitors waned as Lily dilated more and more, readying to push. It had been a long day, incredibly long—it was nearly 10 P.M. when the doctor came in to tell her she was ready to push.
"Not yet," Lily bit out through one of her worst contractions.
"Lil, hon, what do you mean?" Gemma had pleaded as Lily screamed in pain again. "It's time to have the baby. This is the hard part but it comes with the best reward."
"No," Lily said again. "No baby until midnight."
Lily's doctor gave a little laugh, clearly thinking she was joking.
"Fuck off, I'm not joking," Lily told him as she collapsed back into her pillow, the contraction subsiding for now.
"Lily," he said in a patronizing tone, clearly thinking she was being a ridiculous teenager (which, okay she technically was). "Your body is ready. The baby is ready."
"Midnight," Lily bit out again as she felt another contraction coming on.
Lily had, in recent weeks, thought of an idea to circumvent the prophecy from applying to her son. If she could just hold on until August, if the baby didn't come at the end of the seventh month, but instead, the beginning of the eighth, then Voldemort would no longer have any interest in her or her baby. So, as the weeks went on and she was fed one wives' tale after another about how to induce her labor, Lily had become quite determined to do the opposite. Each day felt like a blessing, a miracle, another step on the way to safety. She had two more hours to wait, and she would be damned if she gave up now.
So Lily held off, fighting her body's natural instinct to push even as she felt as though she were being torn apart, even as the doctor and Gemma pleaded, even as she felt like she might actually pass out from the pain, her potions long worn off.
"Please," she pleaded with the baby. "Please. We have to wait until midnight. You cannot be born today."
But it was of no use. Eventually, she found herself pushing despite herself, her body's natural instincts taking over. She knew it could still take time; some women pushed for hours before their babies arrived, but alas, that was not to be the case for Lily. After about 45 minutes of pushing, the baby appeared to be in distress, causing the whole delivery to become more urgent.
"One more contraction, Lily," the doctor told her. "On this last contraction, we can do three more big pushes. If we cannot get the baby out this way, we will have to do an emergency c-section."
Lily screamed in frustration, cursing James Potter and his stupid, stubborn genes that were surely to blame for making her son so determined to work against her right now.
Nevertheless, she pushed, and on the final push afforded to her, she felt her body break, tear, and then finally, mercifully, release. The doctor cheered, moving the baby to a table to her left, handing Gemma scissors to cut the cord before depositing the baby on Lily's chest.
Time stopped. The world ceased to exist. In that moment, all Lily saw was a tiny face with giant green eyes and a mop of dark curls.
"Oh," Lily cooed. "Hi you."
The baby was crying but quickly quieting down. They locked eyes and Lily stroked his face, peppering his head with kisses, cuddling him to her. Her heart might burst with love, a love she did not even know she was capable of until that exact moment.
Somewhere, vaguely, Lily heard talking, heard someone share his weight and length (7 pounds, 7 ounces, 19 inches long), and his time of birth (11:23 P.M.), but none of that mattered at the moment. This absolute angel, this miracle in her arms shrank her whole world down to just the two of them.
How long she sat, stroking her child's face, nuzzling his little head, Lily had no idea, but eventually, Gemma came over and nestled next to Lily on her bed.
"Oh, he is beautiful. He's perfect. Perfect. Does he have a name, Lil?" she asked, as she too looked mesmerized.
"Harry," Lily said, eyes never leaving her son. "Harry James."
Harry was, it turned out, the salve Lily's battered heart needed. A dream of a baby, not overly fussy and incredibly affectionate and sweet, he fit like the missing puzzle piece she hadn't known she was missing. Lily took to motherhood naturally, easily, despite never really having a mother herself. She merely asked herself what she would have wanted or needed, and let her instincts guide her. She also had Gemma to pitch in, helping with late night feedings or changes, splitting bath time duties or rocking Harry to sleep when Lily was simply too worn out from the day.
It would have been perfect, Lily had found herself thinking on more than one occasion, with two small changes.
The first, obviously, was the threat of Lord Voldemort, always present in the back of Lily's mind. Although Gemma and Dumbledore assured her, promised her, swore to her, she was truly in the last place he would think to look, the knowledge that he was still out there, searching, waiting, plotting, caused Lily's anxiety to spike and caused her to draw Harry close to her chest in a bone crushing embrace more than once. Lily was not naïve; while she trusted her former Headmaster in theory, she knew he saw Harry as a means to an end, and would, eventually, call them both back home for Harry to fulfill the prophecy. On more than one occasion, as Lily laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to sleep but fighting the surging panic in her brain, Lily thought Dumbledore had maybe known what he was doing by making Lily and James Heads together, if he had known there was a spark between them and exploited that, hoping he could hand-pick the muggle born witch and pureblood wizard to create the conditions necessary for the prophecy. By morning she was usually able to talk herself down, to once again convince herself that no, no one would choose this destiny for another person, but her distrust of others ran deep, even with those that were meant to be her guardians.
The second problem was the giant James Potter sized-hole in her heart and in Harry's life. If Lord Voldemort loomed like a dark shadow, the memories of James were like salt in an open wound. Harry was his miniature, with the exception of course being his eyes. Looking at Harry was like seeing a tiny James, which made Lily's heart sink and burst all at once. She thought of him often, wondering where he was, what he was doing, if he ever thought of her anymore, if he had missed her when she left. There was also guilt, suffocating guilt, that he was missing out on watching their incredible, bright, funny, empathetic son grow. Guilt that she had judged him too harshly for the boy he had been, not the man he might become. Guilt that she had pushed him away, repeatedly, when he had clearly made subtle gestures to indicate he cared for her. She knew their relationship was unbelievably complex, and maybe she was looking back with rose-colored glasses, but she thought now, with distance, space, and perspective, she could see the whole situation more clearly, and while James was not blameless (he had, after all, said some truly horrific things to her, about her), she was surely partially responsible for the situation they had found themselves in.
Dumbledore checked in with Lily every few months to keep in touch with her updated on the goings on of the Order of the Phoenix, the resistance group he had formed. These meetings were always unscheduled, taking place at odd hours and never lasting longer than an hour. It tethered her back to England and to those from her past. The news was often grim; for as much as the resistance was fighting, Voldemort remained strong. As far as Lily could tell, they were in a stalemate. The Order would win one victory only for a violent attack to set them back immediately.
From these impromptu chats, Lily knew James and his friends had joined immediately upon graduating. She never outright asked about him, but Dumbledore always updated her, letting her know he was safe, that he hadn't died or been taken captive between their last conversation. And on more than one of these meetings, Lily had brought up the idea that it might be time tell James about Harry; it had been easier when Harry was still in utero to keep the secret. Now that he was a living, breathing, person, with James' bone structure and knobby knees, his same head-thrown-back laugh, it felt unfair to James and more importantly, Harry, to keep them apart.
Dumbledore always pushed back, telling her to wait. He was adamant that anyone else being clued in on the prophecy and the child it pertained to only made it easier for Voldemort to find them.
"He will tell his friends," Dumbledore had argued when Lily had made the case for telling James about eighteen months after Harry's birth.
"Aren't they in the Order?" Lily asked, confused. "Wouldn't they want us to be safe, too?"
Dumbledore had given her a sad smile. "There's a spy, Lily. We aren't sure who it is, but someone in the Order has turned on us. Until we know for sure who that person is, we cannot allow anyone to know that Harry is alive."
This news had stunned Lily, adding to her worries and anxieties. She began sleeping with her wand under her pillow, waking at the smallest noises, ready to strike.
In the three years that Lily had been in West Virginia, she had been back to England once; the Order needed a potion brewed, and while Lily had argued surely they had someone else just as competent to do it, Dumbledore had insisted her skill set was best suited for the task.
Upon finishing her studies, Lily had obtained her potioneering license and brewed on the side in the old garden house on the property of the hotel. There was an apothecary in Boston that sent orders to her, and while Lily had been initially happy to simply work at the hotel and raise Harry, Gemma had been adamant Lily put her talents to use, plus she wanted Lily to have skills and income independently from Gemma and the hotel ("Just in case," Gemma had said, "just in case you and peanut have to go on the run again.").
So, when Dumbledore had asked, she had been hesitant, but had returned nonetheless, leaving Harry with Gemma (and any of the dozen or so people from the town who were all too happy to look after the two year old) promising to be back in two days, tops.
The brew was a complicated one, requiring her to stay in the Hogwarts dungeons around the clock, dicing and slicing, stirring and watching. It reminded her of her early years at Hogwarts, when she and Severus had spent more time in these dungeons than anywhere else, as it was one of the few places they could find solace from their peer's bullying.
Losing herself in these memories, she didn't hear the door to the dungeon open until she also heard a sharp intake of breath, a muttered, "Merlin."
Lily spun around and there he was: James.
The two stood, silent, eyes never wavering from one another. She drank him in like she was dehydrated. The same inky, wild hair, the same probing hazel eyes. He was still tall, towering over Lily, and it seemed he had filled out even more, his shoulders a bit more broad, the muscles stretching his black t-shirt just a bit tightly across his chest, his arms perfectly sculpted without being too bulky.
Fuck me, Lily had thought, feeling heat rising to her cheeks as he continued to stare her down. She wondered what he thought of her, what he saw when he looked at her. She knew she was still considered quite pretty, as tourists coming through the town did still regularly hit on her or ask to take her out (she always said no—she had one man in her life, Harry, and that was enough). She was still thin, but motherhood had helped develop her curves further, widening her hips slightly, her breasts to grow more. She hated that she wanted him to find her attractive still, even after all this time.
"Hi," Lily finally said quietly, her voice cautious.
"Lily," James had breathed out, almost as if he couldn't quite believe she was real, that she was actually standing in front of him.
"I'm just here for the day," she said quickly, and mentally slapped herself. Smooth.
"Yeah, um, Dumbledore mentioned, he said you were brewing something for us? It's for a mission my group is doing, so I just came down, you know, to see."
"Well, it's nearly done," Lily said, turning back to the cauldron, giving it a quick stir. She couldn't look at him, couldn't breathe, with him standing there, eyes wild, drinking her in.
"Good, good, that's good. Wouldn't want to keep you away too long from…where did you say you were living?" James asked, his voice attempting to be casual, but failing miserably.
"I didn't," Lily said, looking at him with a smirk.
He smirked back, finally starting to loosen a bit, to be a bit more of himself as the shock wore off. "Always a step ahead of me, Evans. So, what have you been doing all this time? Where did you end up? I've always wanted to know."
He had dropped the would-be-casual, and now, his voice was more serious, probing.
"I'm in the States," she answered vaguely. She was sure this was fine; after all, there were fifty of them.
"Is that where your sister ended up? Is she well now?" James asked, eyes studying her face closely, almost as if he was looking for something, but what, exactly, Lily wasn't sure.
"Yeah," Lily said. There was a pause, as though he were waiting for her to go on, but she didn't.
"Lily, I—" he started, but cleared his throat, shook his head. "I hated that you left."
Lily did not respond, but let his words wash over her. Me too, she thought. You have no idea. She felt a lump rising in her throat as he stood there, face laced with confusion, his honesty making him look so earnest. This was not the James she had known in Hogwarts. He would have teased her or poked at her, nettling her to make her lose her composure. This James was quieter, but more vulnerable. It made her heart ache.
"The timing was particularly unfair to you," Lily allowed, her voice small, making eye contact with him briefly before giving the potion a final stir. Grabbing a ladle, she put some of the potion in a vial and corked it, handing it to him. Their fingers brushed briefly, and the spark, that goddamn spark she had always felt when he touched her shot through her like electricity.
James took the potion, but also took her hand in his. It was so large, warm, calloused. She remembered how this hand had felt as it undid her, allowed the feel of him to wash over her like a warm bath after a cold day.
"I wish," he started, so hesitant, as if he knew he shouldn't say whatever he wanted to, but needed to anyway. As if he had waited two years to get the words out and wouldn't be denied one more time. "I wish things had been different. I wish you would have let me explain. I had so much I wanted to say that night—"
"James," Lily said quietly, pleading. I was pregnant with your son, was on the tip of her tongue. You don't need to apologize because what I've done is so much worse, nearly burst from her lips. "It's okay," is what came out instead.
James opened his mouth to speak again, but Sirius Black came bursting through the door at that moment with a cheerful, "Prongs, oi! What's taking so long?" only to freeze as he took in the scene before him.
"Ah, so that's why you all but ran out of Dumbledore's office after the meeting," Black said, nudging James in the side before turning to her. "Evans, Merlin," he said, placing a hand over his heart as he looked her over. "Two years has been wonderful to you. Lovelier than ever."
Lily blushed and turned back to her cauldron. As always in the presence of her former house mates, she felt cornered, like she needed to run. James' stare was too searching, too probing. If she stayed another moment, she would spill everything to him.
"Well, if that's all then," Lily said, eyes vacillating between James and Black. "I'll be off. Good luck with the mission. I'm sure if Dumbledore needs me again, I'll be back."
Panic seemed to overtake James' features, and as Black did a quick scan of his features, he turned back to Lily suavely. "You know, if you don't need to rush home, a few of us from the Order were going to grab a drink at The Three Broomsticks. You should come, catch up with your old mates."
Lily rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm sure all of my old mates are dying to see me."
"I'd like to catch up more," James said, offering a small smile, his voice soft. He knew she was uncomfortable. After all, he had teased her often about her lack of friends; he knew this had been a sore spot for her during Hogwarts.
"I really do have to go," Lily said, looking at her watch. It was only early evening, so if she used the portkey to get home, she could have a decent portion of the day with Harry still thanks to the time difference.
"Someone you need to get back home to?" Black asked, raising a brow at her.
"Something like that," Lily said, not quite lying but not directly answering the question she knew he was asking. "See you around."
"See you, Evans," Black called cheerfully, clapping James on the back. James, for his part, had not answered, instead becoming very interested in the vial she had brewed, his face a mask. Lily felt an ache in her heart; she had so much she wanted to say, to explain. But the moment had passed, and she had promised Dumbledore. So she turned from the dungeon, and did what she was best at: she left.
Harry's 3rd Birthday Party had been a hit. He had been bursting with joy, loving being the center of attention, with everyone vying to play with him or sit near him, to give him hugs or ruffle his hair. He reminded Lily so much of James as she watched him laugh and play, so buoyant with happiness.
Lily herself was exhausted, after all, birthday parties did not just plan themselves, but content overall. She had just thrown a beautiful party for her son, surrounded by friends who loved them as their own. Harry had friends, a chosen family, a stable place to live, and had truly wanted for nothing in his three years. She hummed to herself as she finished wiping down the counters in the kitchen. Danny, the chef, had offered to clean up, but Lily had refused him. It had been her son's party, so it was only fair that she clean up.
It was late; Gemma had gone to bed about an hour ago, citing exhaustion from chasing the little ones around all day. The house was quiet, the chores nearly done, and she was rather looking forward to pouring herself a glass of wine and sitting on the porch for a few minutes to enjoy the quiet before turning in.
Quite suddenly though, a patronus appeared, a phoenix, and Dumbledore's voice came booming in.
"There's an update. Need to speak with you immediately. Meet at the usual spot."
Lily groaned, looking longingly at the bottle of red wine she would not be drinking tonight. Sighing, she walked out of the kitchen to the back garden, past the garden house she did her brewing in, to the edge of the property. Dumbledore himself had done the anti-apparation and security wards on the hotel, so it was necessary to go quite a ways away before apparating. Once she was outside of the border, Lily turned on her heel with a quick pop and within moments arrived at the appointed place.
After arriving at the meeting spot (a cove off the lake where no one had yet built property yet), Lily saw Dumbledore was already present, standing nearby, looking up at the sky.
"Hello, Professor," she said, smiling despite the late hour.
"Lily, my dear," he said fondly. "How many times must I insist you call me Albus?"
"At least one more, sir," she replied cheekily.
Dumbledore chuckled and handed Lily a wrapped parcel. "A birthday gift for Harry. I hope today was a pleasant day for you all?"
"Thank you," Lily said, accepting the gift. Dumbledore always made a point to bring by birthday and Christmas gifts for her son. "It was, we had a party. He loved it."
"Good, that's excellent. Well, Lily, I'll get right down to it, as it is late and I'm sure you are tired," he said, his eyes suddenly serious. "My office was searched."
"Pardon, what?" Lily said. Whatever she had expected the development in news to be, it hadn't been this. She also did not necessarily see what this had to do with her.
"My office was searched and there are a few items missing. Photographs, specifically. Photographs that you sent, of Harry, dating back to his birth, three years ago. Photos you had dated."
Suddenly, the direness of the situation came crashing down on her. If someone had found those pictures, if someone saw a baby boy, born at the end of July…
"Oh my god," Lily breathed out, her body suddenly numb. "They know he's alive."
"That is my fear, Lily," Dumbledore said. "Whoever searched my office was likely just searching for run of the mill evidence regarding the Order. Although how they got in, I'm at a loss. My office has high security measures so no person can just walk in the door, even undetected. The portraits in the office were all covered with canvases, and sadly, can give me no information about the perpetrator. I don't keep Order plans lying around in my drawers, but I have taken to keeping the photos of Harry there. I've come to regard both of you quite fondly and looking at his pictures especially when our situation feels particularly hopeless, makes me feel cheerful."
Lily felt her heart pang at the words, thinking it sweet that Dumbledore, in an almost grandfatherly way, had kept pictures of Harry in his office to look at from time to time. But that warmness quickly dissipated as she allowed the truth to wash over her. Someone, somewhere, knew Dumbledore had a connection to a small boy, born at the end of July, who bore a striking resemblance to James Potter, a pureblood wizard.
"How bad do you think this is, sir?" Lily asked, voice stronger than she felt.
"I'm not certain. Just because they have the pictures does not mean they know for certain who he is or what he means to Lord Voldemort. And even if whoever this thief is does take them to Lord Voldemort and he decides that Harry is the child from the prophecy, he still will not know where to find you."
Lily took a small, shuddering breath, mentally going over the pictures she had sent, trying to determine if there were any clues in them that would give away their location. No, she was pretty sure they had always been close ups, with minimal background. Maybe one on the beach when they had been on a holiday, but no signs, and beaches were all over the world.
She gave a quick nod. "Okay," she said. "Okay. So they might know Harry is the child,"
"But he is still safe. For now."
Dumbledore's words hung like a bullet in the air, the insinuation heavy. A reminder, that although they were safe, they had a home, they had people who loved them, adored them even, it may not be enough to keep them safe for good. That one day, and Lily was now more certain than ever that day would come, he would find them and try to kill them both. That her son was living on borrowed time.
Despair pinched Lily's heart as she fought the urge to cry, to scream, to curse, to light the whole world on fire. Not for the first time she raged against the unfairness of the situation. Why did it have to be her son, her Harry, her whole world that was under duress?
Dumbledore, as if sensing her warring thoughts placed a steady hand on her shoulder. "You have been so strong, Lily. So strong, for so long. I know this situation feels hopeless, but the Order is making good progress. We recently discovered the secret to Voldemort's invincibility and are slowly but surely chipping away at it. We only need to keep Harry a secret for a few more years, likely, and we will be able to eliminate him."
Lily couldn't help the scoff that came out of her mouth. "Years?"
"It won't be much longer. James is leading the team, actually, and they are making excellent progress."
Lily's heart stuttered, emotions swelling in her chest again. "He's well, then?" She asked quietly. Her stupid, traitorous heart and its unfathomable attachment to James Potter. Her son's life was threatened and she still craved information about James.
"Quite, yes. Asked about you again."
Lily hummed in response, but didn't verbalize her thoughts just yet. She let the silence hang over them for a moment.
Finally, she spoke. "I think we should tell him, sir," she said, voice quiet.
"Soon, I think, yes. The threat does seem more imminent. It may be time to move him out here as an extra wand in the case of an attack."
Lily rolled her eyes at Dumbledore, feeling more annoyed. "Yes, that, and he's his father and his son's life is in jeopardy. He has the right to get to know his son before—" Lily cut herself off from saying the words. Before he's killed, she had been about to say. Before he's murdered.
This time, Lily could not hold back the tears, allowing them to spill out. "I'm sorry," she choked out. "Its just so much to bear, the fear and anxiety and guilt."
Dumbledore looked her over sadly, but did not move to speak, allowing Lily several moments to compose herself.
"He's currently on a mission that I anticipate will keep him away until fall, but when he returns, we will sit down and have a discussion," he finally said. "You are right. It's been too much on your shoulders alone for too long. It's time."
Lily gave a watery nod as Dumbledore looked at his watch. "My time is up, I'm afraid," he said. "I'll be in touch soon. Stay safe and give Gemma my regards."
"Of course," Lily said, nodding. "Stay safe."
And with a quick pop, Dumbledore was gone, leaving Lily alone.
The next day, Lily had filled Gemma in on the developments, including that they may soon be joined by Harry's father. Gemma had raised her brows, giving Lily a knowing look.
"Oh, you just slid that one in there very casually," Gemma had said slyly.
"I tell you that the most murderous, evil wizard in history knows Harry exists and you want to focus on the fact that Harry's father may or may not be joining us?" Lily said, smiling despite herself. Gemma had a way of calming Lily, of making her laugh despite the seriousness of the situation they were in.
"Yes. That's much more fun. I've been prying for details about him for years, Lil, years, and now you just casually tell me he's on his way? No way, we are discussing this," Gemma said, gesturing wildly with her hands, nearly knocking over a vase of flowers as they sat at the kitchen counter, sipping coffee. Harry was at nursery school and Lily was on a break from brewing.
"There isn't much to tell. We were stupid kids who got too involved with a physical relationship without every communicating properly, I got pregnant but was too chicken shit to tell him, he broke my heart and then I found out my child was the savior of the wizarding world, and voila—here we are," Lily said, her tone light, but her heart heavy. When she put it that way, it really was rather a mess.
"Listen, Lil. You were eighteen. He'll understand that," Gemma said motherly. "No one is the best version of themselves at eighteen. Most people are also not the best versions of themselves at twenty-one, but you are pretty close to perfect now. You'll apologize and explain and he'll forgive you," Gemma said, rubbing a small circle on Lily's back.
"You think?" Lily asked, chewing her lip with anxiety.
"I know. You are too pretty to stay mad at for long," Gemma joked, getting a weak chuckle out of Lily. "I, for one, cannot wait to see how hunky this guy is. I mean you are gorgeous, Harry is literal perfection, so his father must be quite something. It will be good to have some eye candy around here."
Lily let out a peal of laughter and nearly fell off her chair as she swatted at Gemma. After a few moments of giggles, Lily sobered. "Now, about Voldemort," Lily said.
"Yes, we probably should discuss that," Gemma said, voice serious.
And so the two discussed and planned, thought through every scenario, went over escape routes. They kept a running list of things Lily and Harry might need if they had to run, packed an emergency go-bag just in case.
Thus passed the end of summer and early fall. Slowly, ever so slowly, life began to feel more normal, safe again. Harry started pre-school and joined a local soccer team (football, Lily had called it only for Harry to roll his eyes. "Mommy, its soccer. Football is what we watch on the T.V. and I'm not big enough to play yet"). Gemma decided it was high time for a renovation of one of the guest wings and was contemplating doing themes in each room ("Fight that urge, Gem" Lily warned, lightly. "This isn't a goddamn bed and breakfast"). They continued to be their own little family, happy and content, but always with the secret, the threat lying just out of reach.
Busy as they were, Lily could not help but notice that the fall was slipping away and she had heard nothing new from Dumbledore about Voldemort or James. She tried to not allow either to gnaw away at her much, but nevertheless, found herself thinking from time to time what it would be like if James were here, if he joined this little family she had built, if he were with her.
The morning of Halloween dawned bright and cheery. It was cool, but not cold, and quite sunny. The little town of Maddox loved Halloween, with the whole square decorated and the promise of trick or treating that night. Harry had decided he wanted to be a fireman, his recent obsession, and so Lily and Gemma had worked on a costume, with Gemma even buying him a Dalmatian stuffed animal as a prop. Lily took tons of pictures, already deciding she would send one to Dumbledore, situation be damned. If those photos made him happy, she would not deny him that.
Lily and Harry enjoyed trick or treating, going around to all of the houses with cheery waves and conversations. Harry was determined to get more candy than any other child in his pre-school class and told Lily quite solemnly that if he won, he would let her pick three whole pieces for herself.
After an fun, yet tiring evening, Lily had put Harry down and was settling with Gemma on the couch to put on a movie, wine poured, ready for some gossip ("Gem, you'll literally never believe who I saw fighting outside of Doug and Angie's house") when suddenly, the door to the hotel burst open.
Lily jumped to her feet immediately, wand out. As she quickly rounded the corner to the lobby, she saw him. Voldemort.
Black cloak, white face, eyes so dark they were almost black. It felt as if the room had just dropped ten degrees.
"Gem!" Lily screamed, fear gripping her. "Gem, it's him!"
"Go, Lily, go!" Gemma yelled. "Get to Harry!"
Lily turned, sprinted up the stairs to Harry's room. We have a plan, Lily told herself. Breathe, breathe, breathe, you have a plan.
Never had the distance between the stairs and Harry's room felt so far. Why had they put their rooms so far back? Why were they so far from the exit?
Lily was vaguely aware of the curses and hexes, the lights flying around her. Fuck, the muggles in the hotel were going to be so confused. Quickly, she muttered a locking spell, firing it at the various doors of the hotel rooms, hopefully trapping them in, praying that when Voldemort was done with Harry and her, he wouldn't turn his wand on the rest of the occupants.
Bounding into Harry's room, Lily grabbed her son, squeezing him tightly.
"We have to go, Har," she said, voice trembling. "There's a bad man, we don't have time—"
"Mommy?" Harry asked, barely awake and so confused. "Mommy what's wrong?"
"We have to go," Lily said again, panic edging her voice. Turning to leave, she found, however, her path was blocked. By Voldemort.
Knowing this was it, the end, Lily kissed Harry on the forehead. "I love you so much," she whispered, and then put Harry behind her, securing him. If Voldemort intended to kill Harry, he'd have to go through her first.
Wand raised, she had a curse ready on her lips when suddenly, Voldemort was hit with something from behind.
Gemma, Lily thought, heart soaring. She had assumed Voldemort had probably already killed her, but to see Gemma still fighting gave her hope.
Voldemort roared and turned to Gemma, and Gemma screamed at Lily. "Get out, go! I'll hold him off!"
Lily grabbed Harry and made it to the hallway where she saw the two dueling, stopping to be impressed only for a moment at Gemma's skill. Dumbledore had not been wrong all those years ago when he said she was a skilled duelist. She was holding her own, cursing and parrying, footwork fast. She was opening a window of space in the hallway for Lily and Harry to slip by, and they were just about there when—
A cruel laugh reverberated through the hallway.
"You stupid girls," Voldemort spoke, his voice so cold, so cruel. The hair on Lily's neck stood and she heard Harry let out a cry. "You think I don't know what you are doing? That this isn't just a game to me?"
Gemma was suddenly next to Lily, Harry behind them both. They held hands, and wands raised in the other. Fighters until the end, Lily thought.
"Step aside. Give me the boy and you both might live," Voldemort taunted again. Lily and Gemma, as if one mind, stepped closer to him, forming more of a barrier between him and Harry.
"Very well then," Voldemort said, raising his wand. "AVADA KEDAVRA."
Lily flinched briefly, her last thought on her beautiful son. She knew she was going to die, but to her shock, the next noise she heard was a body hitting the ground, but it was not hers.
Gemma, brave, vivacious Gemma, had thrown herself in front of Lily and Harry at the last moment. Lily barely had time to process what had happened, merely looking down at her friend, her mentor, her mother figure as grief gripped her heart. No time, Lily thought. Do this for her, save Harry. Turning, she grabbed Harry as Voldemort continued to stalk them and Lily continued to throw curses over her shoulder, curses she knew he could easily block. She half fell, half ran down the stairs into the lobby with Voldemort directly behind her, killing curses flying off the walls as she ducked and dived, all the while clutching Harry to her chest.
She was near the entrance, however, when her luck finally ran out. Stumbling toward the door, she tripped over a rug that had become displaced and fell to the ground, her wand flying out of her hand, and Harry landing on top of her.
"You're out of time, silly girl," Voldemort said, raising his wand again. Lily clutched Harry close, placed a kiss to his brow. He was crying, screaming, and all Lily wanted in that moment was to protect him, comfort him, save him, somehow.
"ADAVA KEDAVRA," Voldemort bellowed again, and the green light flooded the lobby. Knowing she would not escape death twice, Lily held Harry close for the last time, waiting for it to be done.
Instead, a blast, ear-splitting, like an explosion, filled the lobby. Lily was tossed like a ragdoll, this time landing on Harry, thankfully, able to shield him as debris and furniture exploded around them.
Is this death? Lily asked herself. I thought it would be more peaceful, she mused as she felt herself pelted with splintered wood. Harry was still screaming, clutching at Lily desperate, indicating he, too, was experiencing the same as she. Her heart panged, thinking how horrible it was that his final moments were so terrifying, so disturbing. That he could not have gone out more peacefully, more comfortably.
And then suddenly as it began, the room quieted. It was still. Lily took a gasping breath, coughing as she inhaled dust, head positively ringing. Harry was still crying.
"Mommy, mommy, mommy!" He screamed, but Lily ignored his cries and looked over his whole body, clutching his face, looking for signs of injury or blood. There were none.
"Oh my god," Lily breathed, searching for Voldemort but not finding him anyway. "Oh my god. You did it, oh my god, Harry, we're alive," she sobbed, hugging her son, breathing in his scent, even as he continued to wail.
Lily stood, picking Harry up as she did, but the room spun. Lily lifted a hand to her head and retracted it, finding blood.
"Oh," she said, as her vision blurred. "Harry, we need help."
Still clinging to her and crying, Harry buried his face in her hair, grasping her with a vice-like grip. Unable to stand, Lily moved to her knees and began crawling to where she saw her wand, several feet away. She was losing consciousness, she knew, for her dizziness was overtaking her. Finally gripping her wand, she thought of the happiest memory she could—they were alive—and conjured her familiar doe patronus.
"He came. We lived. Come now," she whispered to the patronus, who immediately took off, disappearing into the night.
"We'll be alright, Har," Lily whispered, the boy's terrified screams finally subsiding. "It's alright now," she whispered as she passed out.
Lily woke with a start. "Jesus fucking Christ," she moaned, her head positively bursting with pain. Slowly she opened her eyes, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu. Looking slowly at her surroundings, she realized she was in the hospital wing at Hogwarts.
Which meant—
"We're alive. We're safe," she whispered, hardly believing the words.
"Miss Evans!" a voice rang, cutting through her thoughts. "You're awake!"
Lily turned her head quickly and immediately winced. "Ow," she said, bringing a hand gingerly to her head. Then, panic.
"Where's Harry? Is he okay?" Lily asked, sitting up quickly. Pain immediately flooded her and someone, she now realized it was Madam Pomfrey, shoved her back down. "Your boy is fine. Not a scratch on him, save a scar on his forehead, but doesn't seem to both her. You however, lost blood and have a concussion. Here, swallow," the matron said, shoving vials down Lily's throat, causing Lily to sputter.
"Where is he?" she coughed, the potions still attacking her senses.
"Hagrid has him," Pomfrey said, face giving away she did not necessarily think Hagrid was the most appropriate babysitter, and therefore, spiking unease in Lily instantly. She tried to push her way back up again, only to once again be forced down.
"He's fine, Lily," Pomfrey said, this time kinder. "I gave strict orders that he was not to take the boy on the grounds, so I believe they are wandering the hallways. Harry finds this whole place fascinating."
"He would," Lily said weakly, but smiling as she thought of her son. "He knew Gemma and I had magic, but—"
Lily cut herself off, her heart sinking as she thought of Gemma. As if reading her mind, Pomfrey gave her hand a squeeze.
"She didn't make it, did she?" Lily asked quietly, pleadingly to Pomfrey. After all, if she and Harry had survived, maybe Gemma had to?
Another squeeze and a quick shake of the head told Lily what she remembered was exactly what had happened. Gemma had thrown herself in front of the killing curse to save Lily and Harry. The ultimate sacrifice from the best person Lily had ever known.
"Take this please," Pomfrey said, giving Lily another vial. "You need more rest."
"But Harry-"Lily started, only for Pomfrey to give her a stern look.
"Will be waiting for you when you wake. But you are no good to him in your current condition. Bottoms up, Miss Evans."
Knowing a losing battle when she saw one, Lily took the potion and drifted into a dreamless sleep.
This time, Lily woke slowly, leisurely. She remembered where she was and why, knew she had a million questions that needed answered, and a million more emotions to process through, but took a moment to relish the quiet of the wing, the comfort of the blankets.
Her head felt loads better and as she stretched her limbs, noticed her body felt rested, healed. The miracle of magic, Lily thought, content for a moment.
Moments later, that peacefulness was shattered.
"Well hello, little hero," she heard a voice, a voice she vaguely recognized but couldn't quite place. She knew this person, whoever it was.
"Hi," she heard a small voice, and recognized it instantly as Harry's. Lily felt as if she were instantly doused with ice. There was someone—a man—speaking to her child. Lily sat up with a start and immediately started stumbling out of bed, but the potions made her clumsy, and she struggled, trapped in the blankets that had just given her so much comfort moments before.
"What's your name?" the man asked Harry.
"Harry," he responded, sounding a bit shy but with an edge of an attitude. Damn her, Lily thought, damn her and the small town that made Harry feel so at ease around people. First lesson when she finally freed herself from these stupid, cursed blankets: no talking to strangers, ever.
"Do you have more names, Harry?" the man asked. "Like a last name or a middle name?"
"Oh," Harry said. "At school they say I shouldn't tell strangers my name."
Yes! Lily cheered. A win for the American public education system! Ripping the blankets off herself finally, she tumbled to the ground with a groan, hitting her newly healed head. Fuck, she thought, as the room spun slightly. She took a breath, still listening.
"I'm not a stranger. I know Dumbledore. And Hagrid."
"Oh, okay," Harry said. "Harry James Evans. Who are you?"
"Sirius—"
"BLACK!" Lily all but screeched as she finally made it to her feet and pushed past the curtains surrounding her bed. Both Harry and Black turned to her, Harry's face breaking into a brilliant smile, while Black's look became instantly dark.
"Evans," he said, freezing her with a glance. "Something you'd like to share?" Fuck, she thought. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
"Black, now is not really the time—"
"No? What about the last, oh I don't know, three plus years? No free time then?"
"Mommy!" Harry cried, running toward her, hugging her legs. "They said the bad man hurt you, but now he's gone. Hagrid said I got rid of him! Isn't that cool?"
"Super," Lily said, running her hands through his hair, leaning down to place a kiss to the crown of Harrys' head, all the while aware of Black's eyes, studying the two of them with a look of disdain.
Oblivious to the mood, Harry continued to chatter. "Mommy, this place is cool. There's pictures, and ghosts, but they are nice ghosts, and a cat, and—"
"Yes, Harry, very cool," Lily said, bending to be at her son's eye level, eyes inspecting his face, noticing a small but definitely present, lightning bolt scar on his forehead. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, Mommy," Harry said again, still smiling. "Hungry," he said, pointing to his stomach.
"Perfect, let's go get you some food, then," Lily said, taking Harry's hand, moving to the entrance of the hospital wing, opening the door. "Bye, Black, see you—"
"Oh no," Black cut in, rolling his eyes and blocking their path. One door was open, obscuring the view of the hallway behind Black. "You'll have to be much better than that. The boy can wait. Answers. Now."
"Black, I don't know what you want me to say," Lily said, crossing her arms, defensively. He continued to stare her down angrily.
"Is his father who I think he is?" Black asked. "Because the timing and his appearance—"
"Yes, okay, yes. His father is exactly who you think it is," Lily bit out.
"And in three fucking years you never thought to mention? Drop a line? Dear James, I know I disappeared off the face of the planet without warning, but surprise! You're a daddy!" Black wiggled his fingers in a jazz hands type of motion, voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Of course I thought about it, but Dumbledore—"
"Oh yes, he'll have his turn explaining himself, too—" Black interrupted.
"Stop. Just stop. I know this looks bad, but would you believe that I had the best intentions for everyone, especially, especially, Harry?"
Black closed his eyes and let out a big sigh. The room was tense, even Harry was quiet, his eyes bouncing back and forth between his mother and Black.
"He's James' son, Evans," Black finally said, the fight seeming to leave his body. His tone was gentler, although by no means kind. Less accusatory. "You've kept him hidden away for three years, and I know you and Dumbledore had your reasons, but this is wrong—"
"I know—"
"No!" Black was getting angry again, his grey eyes cold, an angry flush overtaking his face. "You didn't see him when you left—"
"Black, stop. Please. Not in front of my son, please. I'll explain everything but not right now," Lily laced her hands back through Harry's hair, even as he clutched her legs, looking at his mother wide-eyed. He was an intelligent child and would have surely picked up on at least some portion of this conversation. She closed her eyes as she mentally fortified herself for that particular conversation.
"He's James' son, too. You cut him out and—"
"Who's James?" Harry interrupted, having found his voice again. "Is he the bad man?"
Black let out a dry chuckle and opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by another voice. One Lily knew all too well.
"I'm James," he said, hazel eyes blazing, jaw clenched, furious. "I'm your dad."
The air was so thick you could cut it with a knife. No one spoke; no one breathed. Lily could feel the blood rushing to her face, her heart pounding wildly. In all the scenarios she had envisioned James learning of Harry, this was definitely one of the worst ones.
"I think," James finally said, eyes boring into Lily as if trying to eviscerate her with a single glance, "we are long overdue for a talk."