"I don't understand," Lily stated bluntly. She kept her baby pressed tightly to her chest. Harry – milk drunk – was slipping into a peaceful slumber as panic overcame the adults around him.

"A prophecy," Dumbledore repeated. "It came from—"

"What does it have to do with our son?" Lily insisted. She cared little where it came from or what it meant. Why was it that Dumbledore and Moody had appeared on their doorstep, interrupting a peaceful family evening, with what was described as "disturbing" news.

"You see," Dumbledore continued, "Voldemort has decided that whatever this prophecy means it points towards the two of you."

"You've thrice defied him, have you not?" Moody demanded. Lily could sense his impatience but it only made her angrier. What did he have to be impatient about? He had no baby waiting at home, no family to protect. He had not been told that his new born baby was in mortal danger.

"Yes," James nodded for the both of them. Lily could remember each time clearly. Twice in their seventh year — once when she had been on her own and once with James — and a final time when they'd been newly married. Just returned from their honeymoon they had been sent out on a mission together and buttered up by some of Voldemort's goonies to join the cause.

"You see, The Dark Lord, he believes you to be a threat."

"Right, that bit is obvious, but what the hell does it have to do with our son? Our baby son?" Lily emphasized.

"The prophecy spoke of a boy, born at the end of July, to those who have thrice defied The Dark Lord—"

"What about the Longbottoms?" James interjected. "They've avoided him as much as we have, Neville was born hours before Harry." Lily was frightened by the deep animalistic need she felt to protect her child. Harry had drifted to sleep in her arms, his hands resting on his chest, his head lolled to the side. Lily loved him, she'd made him, and she would protect him no matter what, even if it meant wishing an awful fate onto her friends.

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed. He was the only person who seemed able to remain calm. Moody's impatience was unmistakable and both Lily and James sat on the edge of their seats. "It's not Neville that Voldemort believes the prophecy is about though." Lily felt bile rising in her throat. The room suddenly felt much too small. Her vision pulsed and she worried for a minute she might faint, clutching Harry tighter to her chest.

"You can't know that for certain," James protested.

"Potter." It was Moody's voice now. His commanding tone forced every head in the room to turn towards him with obedience. "We know." The words were so matter of fact they sent a shiver down Lily's spine. They knew. How could facts be debated with or argued against? How could they change the fate that had befallen them?

There was a long pause, which Lily took as her chance to place a sleeping Harry safely in his cot beside the couch, while Moody and Dumbledore shared a tense glance. Something was hidden between them, that much was clear, but what Lily could not be sure. Only that the thought of another secret made her entirely uneasy. The moment ended with Moody's irritated sigh. "Tell them."

"We have a source," Dumbledore stated vaguely.

"A source?"

"Someone came forward to us, someone Voldemort believes to be a faithful follower of his."

"Who?" James demanded. Lily could see the vein in his temple pulsing, as it always did when something angered him.

"It's better we don't disclose these things," Dumbledore told him.

"Sorry?"

"James," Lily tried in vain to appease her husband. She had her head turned away from him – too afraid to see the fear in his eyes. How could she be brave when the one who kept her strong was as terrified as she was?

"I'm sorry but I - I can't believe this," James snapped. "You show up at our house days after our son is born to tell us one of the darkest and most powerful wizards has marked him as an enemy?" Dumbledore and Moody bowed their heads. "This is rubbish."

"James, if you'd let us explain," Dumbledore tried to reason with him, "we're only trying to protect you—"

"How long have you known?" he asked. Lily's eyes rose, shifting between the two older men. Neither dared look at her. She was a new mother, still sore from childbed, and they had come to threaten the life of her child. She was a dangerous woman.

"It seemed meaningless at first—"

"Months," James seethed, "months isn't it? And you chose now to spring this upon us-"

"Just tell them the whole truth," Lily heard Moody mumbling to Dumbledore.

"Yes," James agreed, having over heard this as well, "why don't you tell us the whole truth, sir? Who is this inside source you seem to trust completely?" Dumbledore stayed mute watching James closely from behind his half moon spectacles. His eyes shifted towards Lily for a moment as though looking for support, but she had none to give. James was saying only what she hadn't the strength to.

"Severus Snape," Dumbledore finally confessed. "He was the one to come forward with the information."

The name carried more weight than either man could know. Lily felt her insides clench in fear. James, who seconds before had been induced by a rage filled courage, had gone silent. He dropped back into the couch and exhaled deeply, as though giving up.

"And how did Voldemort know of this prophecy?" Lily found the courage to ask. "You told us that this Trelawney woman disclosed it to only you."

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded, "but it would appear I was not the only one listening to her."

"Who was it then?" Lily asked once more. "How was it Voldemort came to know of this prophecy and suspect it referred to our son?"

There was another pregnant pause. Dumbledore and Moody exchanged a quick glance, as though concurring on whether they should disclose anymore. Dumbledore looked hesitant but he had no chance to argue before Moody opened his mouth, "Severus," he confessed. "He was the one to pass along the information."

Lily had no time to process before the sound of glass shattering filled the room. There was a pause before Harry's wails followed, his tiny face growing red from the effort. Lily wasn't able to give him her full attention though; it was her husband she watched with concern. He had shoved his water glass off the coffee table in a fit of rage and now sat perched on the edge of the couch, head in his hands.

"Potter," Moody began cautiously, as though approaching an angry beast. "Let's be rational here—"

"Rational?" James howled. "You're asking me to put my faith in Snape!"

"He has put his life on the line to give us this information," Dumbledore reminded him. "He's done a brave thing in order to protect your son—"

"DON'T YOU DARE!" Harry's crying grew louder as James began to shout. "He's the reason our lives, our son's life, is on the line in the first place. He's a coward and a fool."

Lily couldn't speak. She could think only of the tiny baby whose wailing body she pulled from the crib. Harry smelled of baby powder and kisses. His needs were primal: sleep, food and love. All of which he received plenty. He needed her. He needed her strength and her comfort, even when the world around him was falling to bits. in He was so perfect and they'd had only a day to enjoy it. Harry's fluff of black hair and his tiny fingers and toes…he was barely twenty-four hours old and already Lily feared for his safety.

"How do we protect our son?" It was the only thing Lily could think about, the only thing that mattered.

"You two will go into hiding," Dumbledore explained. "Your location isn't well known to those outside the Order and Godric's Hollow is a small town. There aren't many around to gossip. It means you'll need to keep only a close few around you. We'd recommended disclosing your current situation only to those in the Order, and more specifically those you trust. There can be little travel. Especially with Harry." Lily felt like a prisoner being outlined her rules of incarceration. She was to live no life at all until Harry's safety could be guaranteed.

"And we'll stay like this then?" Lily asked, her voice cracking. "Until this war is over?"

"Perhaps Voldemort's obsession with this prophecy will fade," Dumbledore suggested optimistically, "or a new enemy will arise. We have no way of knowing how seriously he's taking this—"

"I'm not going to back into a corner like some…" James clenched his eyes shut, "...some coward."

"He can't really take it seriously, the prophecy of some random woman?" Lily wanted to murder her – whoever she was – for placing this dark cloud over her son's head. Her perfect, beautiful boy.

"No one is claiming Voldemort to be sane," Moody commented snidely. "Which means you must be taking extra precaution now."

"This is ridiculous." James was livid. Lily couldn't help him. She couldn't soothe his nerves or promise that everything would turn out alright in the end. They had been cursed.

"I have people I trust in Godric's Hollow," Dumbledore went on. "It's important you be surrounded by those who can help you. In the meantime, we think it important you two lay low, at least until we get a better grasp on the situation." His blue eyes grew weary beyond his glasses. "I wish it were different."

Lily was biting back her tears. She didn't want to cry, not in front of Harry and definitely not in front of her superiors. She waited until they had awkwardly ushered the two men to the door and agreed they would all meet again tomorrow, when things had settled, to come up with a plan.

Harry was back in his bassinet, dozing off, but Lily could see his slumber would not last long. James' top was off and he cursed beneath his breath now as he paced. "Bollocks" and "bullshit" appeared frequently in his vocabulary as Lily rocked their son back and forth, lulling him into a serene world of dreams.

"Why aren't you more angry?" James demanded. He directed his anger towards Lily now, with all other outlets gone.

"Of course I'm angry," Lily sighed.

"You have a funny way of showing it."

"Don't be cruel to me," she snapped, "not right now."

"He did this," James said spitefully.

"James—"

"He's done it on purpose. You told me he was upset when you ran into him in Diagon Alley, he hated the fact that you chose me—"

"James please," Lily begged now. She couldn't stand his frantic behaviour. Everything was falling apart. Things had fit, they'd felt right, but that had lasted just a moment.

"I'll kill him," James promised. "I swear to god—"

"Stop it," Lily hissed. It was the first time she'd let her anger show all afternoon. "Just stop." She couldn't think, couldn't breathe, with all the tension in the room. She was exhausted. She'd given birth only a day ago, her body still tender and sore, she'd only just met her son and now she was being told that life as she knew it – which was fragile enough – would be changed once more. It made her head spin.

Harry woke again with a start and began to make quiet noises from his bassinet, demanding the room's attention. Lily moved to reach for him but James had come up before she could and scooped him into his arms.

"Daddy's got you," he whispered to the baby. His tone, filled with rage just moments ago, had softened in the presence of his son. Instead, James reverted to the warm, love-filled father Lily had known for the past twenty-four hours. He rocked Harry back and forth, humming softly to him, as though the conversation they'd just had was a distant memory.

"We'll get through this," Lily said, not sure who she was comforting. "Come here." She urged her husband forward for a kiss. It wasn't filled with the usual tenderness or love though; this one was a poorly placed band-aid over a deepening crack.


There was a storm rolling in as the day came to close. The sky darkened an hour earlier than usual as grey clouds filled the atmosphere and began to drip with heavy raindrops. This was how the world appeared when Dorcas Meadowes was beckoned from her home – about to settle down for a home cooked meal with Remus – to attend an emergency meeting in Alastor Moody's office.

She'd rushed into the Ministry just in time to avoid the downpour and – far underground – escaped the rumbles of thunder and flashes of lightning promised to come. She expected to find the office bustling – or at least a few other faces present – but she was the only one there. At first, she wondered whether the call had been a trick – an awful setup – but further inside she could see the dull glow of orange light from Moody's office.

"Sir?" she asked uncertainly when she reached his door.

"Take a seat."

The building was eerily quiet. Dorcas was used to the Auror's department being filled with noise, paper aeroplanes carrying memos flying left and right. Moody had a bottle of scotch on his desk and pulled an extra tumbler out.

"How about we start with a drink?" he suggested grimly. Dorcas nodded in agreement. She didn't bother guessing what it was he'd called her in to say. She'd realized long ago there was no use in it. Instead, she accepted her drink and waited for her tired looking boss to fill her in.

"You know Severus Snape?" he asked.

"Not personally, Remus has mentioned him a few times," Dorcas shrugged. "Doesn't sound like someone I'd spend my time with." Moody scoffed.

"No," he agreed, "he doesn't." He said nothing more, drinking from his glass before placing it back down with care. "The Potters are in trouble," he finally announced.

"Trouble?"

"Voldemort has gotten wind of a prophecy he believes refers to their son."

"Their son?" Dorcas couldn't hide her shock. "He's barely been alive a day?"

"I know."

"What kind of prophecy?"

"A Divination professor Dumbledore was interviewing spewed it as proof of her ability." Moody rolled his eyes, making clear he was no believer. "She predicted the arrival of a hero, the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord."

"That could be anyone?" Dorcas didn't want to believe it. The Potters had been through hell and back, their journey to Harry had been bumpy enough and now – just when things seemed to be coming together – their son was to be targeted by one of the darkest wizards of all time?

"She predicted a boy, born at the end of July to those that have thrice defied him." Dorcas gulped anxiously. "Dumbledore put no stock in it, he expected she was just trying to impress him." Moody grabbed his drink once more and this time – with little effort – finished off the glass. He poured himself more, waiting to continue. "Someone else was at the pub though, you see."

It was Dorcas' turn now to rub her head in rueful anticipation. "What the hell was he doing conducting a meeting in the middle of a pub anyway?"

"They were in a private room," Moody explained, "upstairs I suppose. Aberforth – the owner – caught a man skulking about, listening in on the meeting. He threw him out and thought little of it."

Dorcas' stomach fell at an awful rate. She had one hand curled around her tumbler so tight her knuckles went white. "Snape?" She confirmed. "He was eavesdropping?"

"Took the news to his master like the rat he is," Moody grumbled. "He ran back to Dumbledore last night after news of the Potters' baby had spread. Got on his knees and begged for forgiveness, told him that Voldemort had marked Harry as his enemy."

"But there were two boys." Dorcas shook her head. "Neville, he could be—"

"Could be, but he isn't," Moody stated certainly. "The prophecy predicted, were there more than one boy born that filled the requirements, that the Dark Lord might choose his enemy. He chose Harry."

Dorcas felt sick just thinking about it. James and Lily's soft faced beautiful little boy. He was too young to understand such evils and Dorcas hoped it would never come to that. She hoped her boss had called upon her with a plan, that he had figured out a way to save the boy and his young parents.

"I don't trust a turn coat," Moody stated bluntly. He took another healthy gulp. "I want you to watch him."

"Snape?"

"You're going to be his shadow for the next little while, see what kind of funny business he's getting up to."

"Sir, I…" Dorcas stopped herself short. Her brown eyes fell shamefully to the floor as she prepared for what she had hoped she'd never need to say to a man she respected so much. "I think it's a mistake to place me on the task."

"Why's that?"

"I'm too close." All Dorcas could do was think of Remus and how seriously this news would pain him. She would no doubt need to keep her mission a secret from her boyfriend more than anyone and what would that mean for the two of them?

"I need you Meadowes." The desperation in Moody's voice – something Dorcas had close to never heard – was heart-wrenching. "No one can know, not with leaks happening left and right beneath our noses. The only two we've informed are James and Lily and they'll keep their mouths shut for Harry's safety."

"Kingsley would be better suited," Dorcas tried to suggest, "he would be less involved—"

"Kingsley is one of my best but he's not you," Moody told her point blank. "You're my best." It was a compliment – the greatest honour Dorcas could ever hope to receive – but it didn't feel like such to her. It felt like a burden. She couldn't deny him now, it would be her duty to take on the task and perform to her fullest. She would have no choice but to return home and reassure her boyfriend that all was well, his friends were in no danger and their newborn baby was safe.

"Okay," Dorcas agreed with a heavy sigh. "I'll do it."

Moody lifted his glass, tipped it towards her in a gesture of good faith, and drank deeply. They didn't speak. Not when Dorcas finished off her own drink nor when Moody moved to pour another. The weight of what hung between them was too heavy for either to bear.

"And if he succeeds?" Dorcas asked. It was the question that had been in the back of her mind since Moody had dropped the news. "If he gets the boy?"

"Then we've lost," her boss confirmed.


It had grown rare for Marlene to spend the night alone — she had almost forgotten what it was like to sleep in her own apartment — but tonight it had happened. Sirius had been called in for Order work and she had decided to read her book in bed and fall asleep early. Of course, her plans never went accordingly.

Instead of a peaceful slumber, she was shaken awake sometime after eleven. She rose with her lamp still on, oozing warm orange light across the room. Her limbs were stiff as she turned out of bed and padded towards the door. She'd had her fill of middle of the night emergencies and prayed it was Sirius, come home early to spend the night.

It wasn't Sirius. It was James. He looked frightful, his messy hair more dishevelled than usual and his eyes red-rimmed from tears. Marlene didn't get out a word before he'd come stumbling in the door in a fit of tears. His six-foot tall frame shook with the weight of it all and Marlene struggled to get him into the living room and seated on the couch.

He fell into her lap like a little boy might curl into his mother for relief. He stayed there – soaking Marlene's pajama pants – until he could gather enough breath to speak.

"They're going to hurt him," he confessed. His words made Marlene's blood run cold. "They're going to kill him Mar."

"Kill who?"

"Harry," James sobbed. "They want to hurt Harry."

Harry was barely two days old. He still smelt fresh and his eyes could barely stand the light of day. Who would want to hurt him? Marlene held James a little tighter to her and thanked God he couldn't see the horror-struck expression on her face.

She waited until James was calm enough to sit up and then she pressed him for an explanation. He sat very still and told her everything from the abrupt visit from Dumbledore and Moody to the prophecy that had been overheard by Severus Snape. By the end of it, Marlene had poured them both half a glass of Firewhiskey and watched James almost down it all in one go.

"They want to shove us away," James' voice shook as he spoke. "They don't want us on any missions or…leaving the house much. I…I can't believe it Mar." James leaned forward, holding his glass between his knees, and rocked back and forth. Marlene poured him another glass for the nerves. "They've won," he said after a sip, "they've bloody won."

James' heavy breathing grew more and more distressed until he slipped into a full-blown panic attack. He clutched his chest and gasped for air. Marlene ran for a paper bag and forced him to breathe into it, desperate for any solution for her best friend's distress. By the time she had got his breathing back to normal he was barely conscious.

Marlene got him off the couch and into her bed using all of the strength she had. James lay on his side, one hand tucked beneath his pillow, but his eyes stayed open. There was a dead, glassy look to them that made Marlene's stomach turn the wrong way. She sent an owl to Lily to ensure she didn't worry and then climbed into bed with James.

He rested in her arms once she turned off the light. It wasn't the first time the two had fallen asleep as such. When they'd been little – before it had been strange for a boy and a girl to be best friends – they had built forts in James' bedroom and shared a sleeping bag between the two of them.

Marlene closed her eyes; fingers tangled in James' hair and pretended she was in that fort again. Caroline had just tucked them in and James' ragged breaths were due to hours spent playing in the fields beyond his home. Marlene tried to pretend she was inhaling the scent of sunscreen and sweat from a long day of play but the smell never came.

"He's so perfect," James mumbled into Marlene's chest. He was shaking now, his body overwhelmed from all the stress. "What if I can't protect him?" What could she say? They'd been reminded more in the past month than ever that no one was safe. They hadn't been able to save the Prewett's, two of the best wizards out there, they couldn't protect each other.

"They won't touch him," Marlene vowed, "We won't let them." James was still trembling in her arms. It didn't matter what promises she made or what thin comfort she offered, his world was hanging by a thread. He was twenty, a father, a husband, a soldier. His parents were long since dead and his friends would now fight a war he could no longer contribute to.

"We should've never grown up," James whispered in terror. "We should've stayed playing out in the meadow behind my house."

"We'll go back," Marlene assured him. "When all of this is over we'll all go back."

"We'll never go back." James' words sunk like a stone inside of Marlene. James fell asleep soon after that. Marlene knew when his breaths grew steady and his shaking soothed. She followed shortly after – struck by the horror of the evening.

She dreamt of the old Potter manor. The home a perfect shade of white, deep green vines creeping up its sides, the black fence lining its edges, sharp and protective. Inside the home was tidy – too tidy – and bright light spilt in from every window. It was almost blinding creeping through those halls towards the back of the house. The screen door was open, beckoning Marlene outdoors, and beyond it, she found exactly who she'd been looking for.

"Took you long enough," Caroline said without opening her eyes. She was in a sundress, leaning back in her lawn chair with eyes closed so that she soaked in the full force of the sun.

She looked as she had in Marlene's youth. Her dark hair streaked with grey and her cheeks rosy red. She wasn't the thin, frail old lady she had been in the final days of her life.

"You've been waiting for me?"

"Still waiting," Caroline corrected her. "You'll be along soon enough."

"Soon enough…"

"You know what it is you have to do," Caroline explained dryly. Her tone was not filled with its usual comfort or grace. It made Marlene uneasy. "You've known all along." It was now that Caroline turned her head to look straight at Marlene. Her eyes were as dull as her tone but there was a purpose beyond the gaze.

"Protect him," Caroline commanded. "Protect him with your life if you have to."

"Who?" It made no sense to Marlene. The sun seemed only to be getting brighter, making it difficult for her to even open her eyes.

"Oh, you don't need to ask me, darling. You've always known the answer to that one."


Alice woke expecting to hear Neville's cries from the cot at the end of the bed but instead came the peaceful gurgles of a baby from beside her. She rolled over, Frank sitting up in bed with their son cradled in his arms. He was bouncing him carefully, lulling Neville into a peaceful comfort. Alice smiled at her boys with pride. They were perfect.

"I think he's ready for some breakfast," Frank said.

"He seems quite happy with Dada. Aren't you love?" Alice sat up so that she might take Neville now for feeding. "You love your daddy don't you?"

She knew the answer even if Neville couldn't admit to it himself. He never looked happier than he did curled up into Frank's chest – one hand outstretched for his father's finger. Alice placed him to her breast and rested her tired head on Frank's shoulder.

"I keep expecting to wake up and find out I've dreamt it all."

"He does seem unreal, doesn't he?" Alice smiled. She was sleep deprived and exhausted in every sense of the word and yet, she'd never been happier. Her family was complete. Neville was here and he was perfect – everything she'd hoped for – and for the first time in years that little space in Alice's heart, left empty after the loss of her parents, was filled.

"There's no one I'd rather do this with," Frank stated. Alice looked up at him with big loving brown eyes. "I love you."

"Oh sweetheart," Alice stroked his cheek. "You're a close second in my heart to Everett Jenkins." It was rare for their pair of them to joke about that tumultuous time in their relationship – Alice feared for a moment she'd gone too far – but Frank's laughter broke and she knew there was little that could come between them now.

"I guess I'll send word to Cecily then," Frank shrugged. "Let her know it's back on."

"It all seems silly now, doesn't it?" Alice's eyes darted down towards their son, still suckling at her breast. "All that drama and heartbreak."

"You really did break my fucking heart, you know?" Alice covered their baby's ears as if it made a difference. Frank smiled with the joy of a carefree man. "I never loved anyone but you."

"You did quite the number on mine as well. I had to watch you gallivanting around the castle with Cecily bloody Turner."

"And yet, here we are."

"Here we are," Alice agreed. She wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. All of the heartbreak and anger, it had brought them here. It had drawn them together again and allowed their relationship to withstand most anything thrown its way. Alice loved her husband so much so she worried her heart might burst, and she'd never need worry about them ever again.

When Neville had finished feeding he was scooped into his father's arms once more for a burping. Alice watched cheerfully from the bed as Frank stood up and moved around the room as he tried to get a good one out of Neville.

When he finally succeeded Frank smiled with pride. "Everett Jenkins couldn't have done that now could he?" Frank asked their three-day-old baby. "Nu-uh. He couldn't have made such a beautiful baby with mummy either."

"Frank!" Alice scolded, stifling laughter.

"Mummy needed daddy to be so successful in that department."

"You wanker," she scoffed.

When Neville had fallen into his usual post-meal slumber — a moment of silence his parents had grown rather fond of — Frank climbed back into bed beside his wife. They met for a kiss and lay happily side by side, hands clasped.

"Frank," Alice whispered, careful not to wake the sleeping baby. "Will you take a break from work and fighting?" It was the question that had been on her mind all throughout their three day weekend together. "Just for a little while, even for a week—"

"Al," Frank began with a stern look. "This war means nothing compared to you two. You know that, don't you?" He held her a little closer in his arms. "I told Moody weeks ago I'd be taking time off once the little one arrived."

"You didn't tell me!"

"I thought you'd assume." Alice stared up in awe. He was perfect, almost too perfect, and most days she was certain she didn't deserve him.

"You're wonderful, you know that?" Alice kissed the top of his hand. "Just perfect."


James returned home like a dog with his tail between his legs. It was early morning – not yet nine – but Lily was already up. She was sitting with Harry in the kitchen, rocking his bassinet back and forth as she tried to nurse a mug of coffee. She didn't bother looking up when James came skulking back guiltily.

"I'm sorry," he said, cutting to the chase. "I didn't mean—"

"Has it not got into your head yet?" Lily cut him off. "You aren't just thinking about yourself anymore."

"I know—"

"I don't think you do! If you understood you wouldn't have left me in the middle of the night to wake to an empty bed and a crying baby."

"I didn't think…"

"No, you didn't," Lily agreed sharply. "If you had you might have second guessed the decision. You might have considered how I was feeling. How scared I am about this…this news…" James watched his wife grow pale across the table. "I gave birth days ago and I'm now being told that my son's life is in danger." James bowed his head, too ashamed to look her in the eye. Lily was right: he hadn't behaved like the man he needed to be.

He was no longer just thinking for one – he had a family to worry about. When James slipped off in the middle of the night to seek the comfort of an old friend he was leaving behind two very precious people. He felt awful for it. He felt responsible for the dark circles under Lily's eyes and any tension Harry – just a baby – had sensed.

"Fucking hell." Lily's face fell into her hands and she exhaled deeply. James could see the stress rippling through her in waves. She stayed there for a while, face buried, and when she emerged her green eyes were glossed over with tears. "We're not even a week in and we're failing him."

"Don't say that." James came around the table to hold her. She sunk into his arms without effort and wept. She wept so hard that Harry began to stir beside them, alarmed by his mother's distress. "It's not our fault—"

"It is!" she cried. "We brought him into this…mess." She looked up at James with puffy, red eyes. "I didn't want this for him. I wanted to protect him from this."

"We will," James promised. "No harm will come to Harry. We'll do as Dumbledore says, okay? We'll lay low, keep only those we trust nearby. We'll get through this, Lil, and when we're on the other side it will all have been worth it."

"We've been saying that since we graduated. Just a few more months, just another year, just until Moody can get the Order under control." Lily shook her head doubtfully. "We're losing—"

"Don't say that." James felt his heart grow heavy. It was the fear that kept him awake at night and made his heart skip a beat when he held his baby in his arms. They were losing. They lost soldiers daily and their cause seemed doomed. He couldn't admit that to Lily though. He needed to reassure her that these were fears and only that. He needed to stay strong when she was crumbling because otherwise, they would both fall apart.

"Stop making me feel like you're giving up then," Lily countered. James' stomach sank like a stone and as Harry began to stir he lifted him into his arms. The baby paused as he pressed his cheek against his father's chest.

"I'm not," James promised. "This right here," he looked from Harry to her, "is my entire life. It's the only thing that gives me purpose when I wake up each morning. You get that, don't you?"

"Of course I get that," she sighed. They quieted for a moment and James could see her green eyes growing cloudy the longer she stared down at Harry in his arms. He was wiggling around tirelessly. "He's just perfect isn't he?"

"He is."

"We made that. Can you believe we made that?"

"No." James kissed the top of his son's head. "It still feels unreal."

"I don't like this any more than you do." Lily rubbed at her forehead ruefully. "I've been up all night torturing myself about it. Maybe if I'd been nicer to Severus that afternoon none of this would have happened…" James watched his wife's face clenched in pain. "Do you blame me, James?"

Her question shocked him. Perhaps a part of him had. When he'd so easily raised from the bed and slipped into the dead of the night to find Marlene. He had felt that Lily – and her weak spot for Snape – had brought this horror upon their family. That wasn't fair though. How could she have known?

"Come here," he urged her. Lily didn't budge at first, her green eyes still filled with guilt, but James motioned her forth and finally, she came. She took Harry from him and sat on his lap. James wrapped his arms around the two most important things in his world.

"This is not your fault, alright? It isn't anyone's fault, except perhaps that long nosed bugger's—"

"James," Lily scoffed.

"Look at me." She turned her head slowly, a smile dancing across her lips. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you, Lily Potter." She blushed, as she always did when he used her surname. He kissed her slow and watched the ease grow upon her face as they drew apart. "We'll stay low," he promised. "Until it blows over. It will blow over." James felt sure of that.

They had their friends to protect them and the strength of their love to keep them going through it. They would make it.


The kitchen was deafeningly silent. Peter sat at the head of the table, hands shaking beneath it, waiting for the other two in the room to join him. They were whispering in hushed, barely audible tones behind him, pressed into the farthest corner. The longer they stayed there the more anxious Peter grew, palms sweating fretfully.

It was another five minutes before he heard the shuffling of feet and Aldora reappeared before him. She took the seat to his right, smiling comfortingly. "We have some news darling," Aldora explained. Alecto Carrow followed to the table. She sat at the opposite end, her stubby fingers tapping impatiently along the side of her glass. She watched Peter, beady little eyes filled with mistrust.

"You went to school with Severus Snape?" Aldora confirmed.

"Y-yes…" Peter nodded anxiously.

"Well, your old schoolmate has been quite an asset to the Dark Lord recently. He got word of a prophecy of much importance."

"A prophecy?"

Aldora nodded her head hurriedly. "Yes, Peter. You see; this prophecy spoke of a boy, born at the end of July, to those who had thrice defied the Dark Lord." Her words still refused to click in Peter's scrambling brain. Aldora watched him with big, expectant eyes, waiting for him to understand, but Alecto was more impatient than that.

"Who has just had a baby, you bloody fool?" she demanded hoarsely.

"The Longbottoms?" Peter gasped. It made sense. Frank and Alice were strong wizards, well known for their success as Aurors. He felt horrible for them of course; after all, they'd gone through to have their beautiful baby boy torn from them...

Alecto made a grumble of irritation but Aldora silenced her with just one look. She turned back to Peter now, kindness in her eyes, and smiled. "No, not the Longbottoms. There was another boy, was there not?"

Yes, there had been. Born to the Potters, a little boy born two weeks early by chance. Peter tried to remain calm. He knew if he let the fear he felt inside show Alecto would see it as a sign of betrayal.

"I see," he answered formally.

"What your girlfriend is trying to say," Alecto interrupted, "is that it's time to stop hiding behind her skirts and join the real fight." Peter looked to Aldora hoping for another second scolding look but it never came. Instead, she nodded in agreement. "If that is what you want, of course," Alecto taunted him. "To serve the Dark Lord."

"It is what I want." The words flew cold and harsh from Peter's mouth before he could stop them. The statement shocked even him. Was it? His lines had become so blurred he no longer knew where his loyalties lay. With the woman he loved? With the friends, he had once called family? Peter had lied, killed and betrayed. He had broken the trust of those who wouldn't dare question his loyalty. Did he believe in the cause he had thrown it all away for?

"Well good," Alecto smirked, leaning back. "Then we'll begin. You're to be the eyes and ears on the inside. We expect you to report back everything about the Potters' movements."

"Right," Peter nodded, finding it difficult to swallow. Something inside of him burned hot with rage. He felt a deep desire to leap across the table and smack that smug look right off Alecto's face. She looked at him the way everyone did – like a creature to be pitied. Well, Peter was sick of it. No longer would he cower in the background and allow his cowardice to be made fun of. It was time he took a stance for something.

"Perhaps, if you're a good little boy, you might find yourself lucky enough to be brought before the Dark Lord." The very thought sent a shiver down Peter's spine. "He's impressed with what little you've done so far, although I'm sure we have Aldora to thank for that."

"Hush Alecto," Aldora chided. "You're too harsh on him. Peter's has been a huge help. He's put himself in danger more than once for our sake, haven't you darling?"

"I've done what I can."

"Mark my words, we'll have that half-blood boy gone within the year." Aldora raised her untouched drink in a toast.

"Perhaps we can get rid of those blood traitor parents of his too," Alecto vowed with a fury in her eyes. "His Mudblood mother especially. I'd love to get my hands on her…" Aldora laughed cruelly in response.

"I doubt Severus will let you. He still broods whenever her name is mentioned."

"Perhaps I'll drag her to his doorstep by the neck. A nice gift. Then maybe he'll stop being so damn moody."

Peter hid his frown behind his glass as he gulped beer back deeply. It made him sick to hear them talk about James and Lily in such vile terms. Lily was a kind and warm woman, Peter was certain she'd never hurt a fly if she could avoid it. She would do anything to help if he needed it. What if he went to her now and confessed to his treason? Could she forgive that? Would she help him find a way out? No, Peter thought bitterly, that was unlikely.

She would use him to her benefit more likely, as a spy just as Aldora had, in order to save her son. Then, without doubt, she would throw him to the wolves. Peter would be locked up in Azkaban for his crimes and his friends would all hate him the same. At least with the Death Eaters, he might find some small glimpse of glory.

"To Peter," Aldora said proudly, grinning at her boyfriend.

"A talented turncoat."


Marlene and Sirius had come over for breakfast at the Potters'. Of course, Marlene knew there was more to the invitation than a nice meal together and some bonding time with Harry. By the time their plates had been emptied and the table was cleared James could be seen gearing up to deliver the news to Sirius.

Marlene concerned herself with tidying up and playing with young Harry. As the adults spoke, now gathered together in the living room, she lifted the baby and rocked him back and forth. He had grown restless in his bassinet, ignored by his parents while they discussed serious matters. He seemed to calm as he rested his head against Marlene's chest.

"There we go," Marlene smiled. "We love Auntie Marley, don't we?" She liked to pretend Harry knew she'd been the first to greet him when he entered the world and it left a special bond between them.

"Snape?" Sirius hissed with disdain. "It was Snape who did this?"

"He passed on the information," Lily clarified.

"That fucking—"

"Hey!" Marlene quieted him. She was still rocking Harry in her arms as his eyes stared curiously around the room. "Let's not go there."

"He's a double agent now, I suppose?"

"Dumbledore believes so—"

"And you trust him? Prongs, don't be an idiot mate, he's playing you. He's setting you up, he's…"

"Our only hope," Lily finished. "He's the only reason we're prepared for this at all. We owe him at least that."

"We owe him nothing," Sirius snapped. He was blinded by hatred. Snape was an enemy he would never play nice with. Marlene could see the fury burning in his eyes from across the room and clutched Harry tighter to her chest.

"You can't tell anyone," James sighed. "We weren't meant to say anything, but—"

"You've only told us then?" Sirius asked, grey eyes darting up towards Marlene. James nodded and Sirius' shoulder fell back with relief. "Good," he nodded. "Keep it that way."

"Oh, Christ, Sirius." Marlene was the first to understand the meaning behind his words. Everyone knew the only other people the Potters would dare to tell such a precious secret to were the remaining Marauders – Remus and Peter.

"There's a mole," Sirius continued. "We need to be more vigilant than ever."

"So what if it's you?" Marlene challenged him. "What if it's me?"

"Stop it," Sirius warned her.

"Your logic is flawed and you know it. Remus would never hurt Harry." Marlene paid attention to the light flutter of Harry's breath against her neck and the beating of his heart. She promised herself that he would grow as tall as his father and one day ride a broomstick the same. This threat above his head would pass.

Both Lily and James were ashen with worry. Their usual spirits were depleted. They were sleep deprived, over emotional and terrified for the safety of their son. Marlene wanted more than anything to ease their worries but there was nothing she could do while Voldemort still reigned with terror.

"Prongs," Sirius' voice broke through. "I am begging you." The desperation in his voice made James look up, his hazel eyes flickering towards his friend. "Keep it the four of us. Until things die down just let it be the four of us so that I can know you're safe." Who could argue with such a raw request? Marlene kissed the side of Harry's head, already sprouting with dark hair like his father, and placed him back down to rest.

"Okay," James agreed. "Just until things are settled…" Marlene wanted to scream out with rage. She watched the relief wash over Sirius' face and clenched her hands to her sides. There was little James could say when his family's safety already hung in the balance. He didn't look himself – he hadn't since he'd wandered into Marlene's arms the night before. Would he ever be the same youthful boy she'd once known and loved?

Marlene felt like she was holding her breath the rest of the morning. They finished off their visit with meaningless small talk and a promise to get together again soon before Marlene and Sirius left. Marlene refused to speak. She ignored Sirius when he asked where it was they were headed next and when he reached for her hand she recoiled.

She stomped the whole way down the street, to the spot where they always apparated away, and let Sirius grab her arm and fly them back to his flat.

"You're acting like a child," he announced when they were in the safety of his home. Marlene stood in front of the window, arms crossed, back turned to Sirius. "We're not at Hogwarts anymore, loyalty is no longer about who has been around the longest—"

"I try to remember sometimes when it all went wrong for us," she spoke softly, like a recording being played. "I thought perhaps it was the day we joined the Order, that afternoon in Dumbledore's office, but it started long before then, didn't it? By then we were soldiers, all scarred and bruised. Maybe when I watched Donovan's burn to the ground before my very eyes and I realized how vulnerable we all were. Still too late...and I realized we've been damaged for longer than I ever imagined. Can you remember the last time you felt safe?" Sirius didn't answer. "I think it was that summer before seventh year. No one was dead, the Order didn't yet exist – at least not for us – things were so pure."

That had been three years ago now. That last summer hadn't felt consequential at all. In fact, Marlene had been dying for it to be over. She'd wanted desperately to finish seventh year and grow up. Later on, she'd been desperate to fight, to protect the cause she so strongly believed in, and now she waited in agony for all of it to be over.

"What am I supposed to say to that?" Sirius asked. Marlene had yet to turn around. She didn't want to. It meant she would look into Sirius' eyes and feel the same disappointment swirl in her that she'd felt in the Potters' living room.

"Nothing," Marlene shrugged. She watched a family passing by below; a mother, pushing a stroller, her young son clinging onto the side of it, skipping along. Were they afraid? Did they wake up with fear in the morning and go to bed with it at night? Did she watch her children sleep and pray to god they saw another day? Lily would. Lily would until the war was over.

"You're mad at me," Sirius said certainly, "for pointing fingers at Remus."

"Yeah," Marlene nodded. Finally, she turned to look at him. His head was bowed shamefully, eyes glued to the floor. He didn't look like the youthful boy she'd once fallen for. His face was longer, his eyelids heavier, his shoulders no longer pushed back proudly. His chin was sprinkled with dark stubble and his fingers were rough from battle. His icy gaze lifted to Marlene.

"Who will we be when this is all over?" she asked him. He couldn't answer that, of course. They would be scarred from the horrors of war and their lives would be in shambles. What did they know but the fight? "You've ruined it, you know." Sirius face fell with surprise. "If Remus is innocent he'll never forgive you. You'll never get your friends back Sirius. Whatever was will never be again."

Marlene approached the small box that rested on the coffee table. She knew Sirius kept a stash of cigarettes in there, even though none of them smoked regularly anymore. She snatched one from it and lit it with the tip of her wand, Sirius watching her closely all the while.

"And us?" he asked. "Will that be ruined too?"

"What is there to ruin?" She countered, exhaling through her nose. "We've never had the guts to call this what it is. I'm sure nothing will change about that ever."

She waited to see if he tried to change her mind. Part of her wanted him to. She wanted Sirius to promise that when things calmed down and the fighting was over they would give it a proper go, but no, that wasn't him. She let her cigarette hand drop to her side lazily as she watched him, lips parted. Sirius was not Henry. He would never sweep her off her feet; never promise a future he couldn't imagine himself.

"Will you stay the night?" There was something hidden beneath his voice, a raw need he struggled to keep hidden. That was the trick that kept her hooked – he needed her.

"Yeah," she nodded, taking another long drag. She plopped herself down on the couch with a heavy thump against the cushions. Sirius joined a few seconds later, his arm coming to wrap around her.

"It'll be different when the war is over," he said after they had been lying there for a while. "We'll stop fucking around. We can take my bike and fly it across the Channel. That would be a journey, wouldn't it?"

"If I could trust that thing not to break down halfway," Marlene interjected.

"We'll start in Paris. You can show me where you lived and all your favourite parts. Then we'll travel all around. We can use up some of the money my uncle left me. We'll fuck on the beaches and spend all night getting drunk off of expensive wine and champagne."

"Sounds nice," Marlene smiled. She offered the half finished cigarette to Sirius.

"It'll be better Marls, I promise."

"I know." She took his free hand and kissed the top of it. Maybe one day it would all be real.