Chapter Forty-Four

"You do realise you're missing your own party."

Regulus glanced up as Severus stepped into the office.

The younger man gave him a lop-sided smile and shrugged; "Well, there is only so much fawning over me I can take. Not every day you get brought back from the dead. I ought to tell them all the credit belongs to you and then you can share my burden."

"Ah. It is an honour to serve, as always."

Regulus snorted, holding up a bottle of firewhiskey, and Severus inclined his head; why not?

Well, he really oughtn't. Not because a glass of firewhiskey was a great deal in the longer run but because, in Regulus' case, it was a slippery slope. Already Severus had heard the tell-tale moans and groans coming through the other man's bedroom door, deep into the night; the sounds of muffled laughter and women's voices.

When the excitement was wearing off, back when everything was still relatively new, and the consequences of what choosing the Dark Lord actually meant began to sink in, he and Regulus sought to dull the truth of their reality by drowning themselves in the pleasures of sex and alcohol; surrounding themselves with booze and loose women.

The women, Regulus particularly enjoyed, but then he always had done; Evelyn getting pregnant right at the heart of the war a testament to his lack of restraint. Severus actually marvelled that it was only Evelyn who had wound up pregnant, half-expecting a flock of unclaimed offspring to come crawling out of the woodwork when Regulus' status began to rise with the Foundation.

Regulus had played women as if they were a game. He loved the chase. The Challenge. It was always someone new – before Evelyn presented him with a son, he never went with the same woman twice – and it was always the same nonsense he would sprout out, a word about the constellations and the stars – his fast-track ticket into their knickers – followed by whisperings in the ears, until he had eventually dragged his conquest out to the nearest alley for a quick fuck.

Returning with a big, triumphant smirk.

Mission complete.

After potentially hours of game-playing, that is. Regulus once spent four separate nights attempting to get one particularly hard-to-get woman to sleep with him. They called her 'the Big One'. Yes, they were idiots.

Severus hated the chase. For him, the sooner the skirt came up, the better. Four days? Perish the thought. Even four hours was too long to spend on one woman. While Regulus liked to rack up the numbers, Severus' own self-imposed challenge had been to see how quickly he could make sex happen using as little time and words as possible – and he found it far easier to accomplish his own mission by sticking to the same conquest for multiple encounters. In such cases, sometimes words were not necessary at all – though Regulus claimed that only the first meetings counted. So, six words it was.

He'd had quite the triumphant smirk of his own that night.

Of course, his own methods had their disadvantages. Regulus set the women loose after the first go. By sticking around, Severus had often found himself in the less-than-pleasant situation of having to wiggle his way out of 'the questions'; what were his intentions? Did he have a girlfriend? Was she his girlfriend? How did he feel about marriage? Children?

Or, the most dreaded question of all; do you love me?

Severus had only let a situation get that far once and it had been after the war, in Italy, and he had been so baffled by the onslaught that he could do nothing but stare. And, apparently, that meant 'yes'; so that had been a bit of a muddle and he was glad to head back to England a few weeks later with a simple 'farewell'. No declarations of love or promises for the future.

Severus had given that part of himself away a long time before.

"I would have thought you'd be out there working your…magic," Severus lifted his glass to his lips.

Regulus chucked, waving a hand; "It is probably better I don't alienate the clients. And employees are 'forbidden'."

Severus gave him a smirk, though there was a sheepishness to it, both acutely aware of the reasons that particular rule came about; "So they are."

"Not that it's stopping you, of course."

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"What are you doing, Sev?" Regulus suddenly looked serious, even if his eyes were twinkling; "I mean, seriously? I was gone two months and, still, you haven't made your move?"

"I can't imagine what you mean."

"Just go for it."

"As you say, it would be 'forbidden'," Severus said, with a raise of the eyebrow, his own lips twitching.

Regulus was chuckling; "Like that would stop you."

"I take my role at the Foundation very seriously."

"So I noticed. Thank you." Severus met Regulus' eyes at the sincerity; "For reopening."

"It was not only me."

"You just had to do most of the work?"

"It was no great inconvenience," Severus stated, dismissively, feeling uncomfortable under the warm praise, and directed the conversation away when Regulus began to pour himself another glass – Severus had barely even touched his own; "Do you think another is wise? What if he were to call?"

Regulus met his eyes, allowing the glass to fill further; "All the more reason."

Severus shot him a disapproving look; "We are not teenagers anymore, Regulus. He will expect us to conduct ourselves as men, not boys. It is not as amusing when grown men show up in a drunken stupor." And then Regulus laughed at the reminder that, yes, when they had been teenagers the Dark Lord had unexpectedly called upon them when they were engaged in their own illicit activities and both had shown up at their master's feet half-cut and almost wetting themselves – out of fear or overly-full bladders, one was left to wonder.

The Dark Lord had been amused. But he had punished them extensively all the same. Unfortunately, even the effects of alcohol were not enough to dull the agony of the Cruciatus.

"I doubt the Dark Lord needs any further cause for amusement right now. He's still rejoicing over the defeat of the Longbottom boy," Regulus stated, as he capped the bottle. Severus averted his eyes, feeling a stab of guilt shoot through him at the reminder of the fate of the Longbottoms. A casualty of his mistakes. Though he would not allow himself drown in the regret and lose control, as he feared Regulus was on the brink of doing.

"Is it Harry Potter?"

"No." Severus felt himself grown tense.

"It has to be someone."

"Yes. And the Dark Lord killed him. For now, he is satisfied that the prophecy has been dealt with and that he has emerged victorious –"

"He has asked Lucius to scale the ins-and-outs of the Department of Mysteries."

Severus pursed his lips together at the statement. And then he spoke coolly; "I have heard nothing of it."

"It was Lucius who told me this evening. Apparently Dumbledore's silence on the matter is considered 'curious'."

"Did he expect fireworks? We shall just have to see to it that he doesn't get his hands on the prophecy."

"The prophecy would reveal it, if it is truly Longbottom –"

"And if it isn't?" Severus' tone was clipped.

Regulus met his eyes and Severus was sure his friend caught a glimpse of desperation in his own expression; even if Severus would normally force himself to conceal it, he allowed a little to shine through in this instance, knowing that Regulus would respond in kind.

"Then he won't know of it." Regulus finally said, lifting the glass to his lips, and taking a long drink.

Severus drew in a breath, eyes lowering. He had thought the matter of that damn prophecy was dealt with.

"I have to inform the Order."

"You risk Lucius by doing so."

Severus closed his eyes. He risked Lily by not.

"It is my own cover that would come under threat. I would see to that."

"I thought our highest priority was to 'protect the spies'."

"Priorities shift."

When Severus lifted his eyes, he expected to see disapproval. Concern. But, instead, when he met Regulus' eyes they were understanding. Warm. And his friend smiled and nodded; "So they do."

Severus said nothing. The turn of conversation treading on the brink of sentimentality for the second time and he shied away from it; lifted his glass to his lips and finished off what was left, pushing the empty glass in Regulus' direction for a refill.

Regulus poured, not looking at him as he spoke; "I kept Evelyn away. You remember?"

Severus didn't respond. Though, yes, he remembered very well. Regulus had loved her but his regret, his remorse over the past made him shy away; keep her at distance. Never able to give her what she needed.

And then she died.

"I didn't deserve her. I know that. But, in the end, that didn't matter." Regulus capped the bottle, when Severus' glass was filled. He drew in a breath; "She died. And she didn't know. She didn't know how much I…" Regulus hesitated and Severus thought he might look at him but he didn't and Severus was relieved. This conversation was way beyond his own comfort zone and he wasn't even the one speaking.

"Of my regrets – and, you know, I have a lot of them – that's the one. The one that kills me the most."

And then Regulus did meet his eyes; the look in them was haunted and Severus felt a chill run through him.

And then it was gone; the twinkle was back and his friend gave him a shrug and cocked an eyebrow. Game-playing Regulus shining through, as the look he gave Severus seemed to say; your move.

When Severus neither said nor did anything in response, Regulus lifted his glass, a silent toast. To what, Severus didn't know, but he lifted his own anyway and then downed the liquid in one gulp. Glad of the burn.

Regulus held his look a further moment, looking thoughtful, and then he let his arm fall back to the desk; his empty glass hitting the woodwork with the sound of a gavel and then he stood; "Well. We've been cooped up here long enough, I think. Back to the party?" They stood.

"It's a fundraiser."

"I thought it was a 'Regulus Black is Back' celebration?"

"Sometimes, Regulus, you remind me very much of your brother."

Regulus slapped him on the back and laughed.

Severus had swept out of the fundraiser almost immediately after their talk in the office.

Off to Dumbledore.

Regulus wasn't surprised.

In fact, what did surprise him was that Severus hadn't left immediately upon learning the information; the Department of Mysteries was next. The Dark Lord was, evidently, still not entirely satisfied that the prophecy had been dealt with.

Severus just couldn't catch a break.

Regulus glanced across the room, spotting Lily Potter in the distance, engaged in conversation with some of their co-workers. Smiling brightly, chatting animatedly, but, every now and then, her expression would become distracted and her eyes would flit across the room, as if searching for something.

Someone.

Regulus felt a smile tug; he was pretty certain he knew who that someone was.

One of the runners tapped her on the shoulder, holding out a folded note to her.

A love letter from Severus, perhaps? Regulus snickered at his thoughts.

"Why, Mr Black. Who'd have thought I'd find you here?"

Regulus glanced up at the voice, one he recognised, and found himself under the playful eyes of Mrs Potter's lively friend; "Miss Bradbury."

"Julia."

"Regulus."

"Right. So, tell me, Regulus; how is it that you have managed to escape the pawing of your peers? I saw you surrounded by well-wishers, not so long ago."

"Well, there is only so much pawing a man can take."

"Is that right?" Her eyes twinkled.

Regulus let his eyes drift, from her eyes down a bit further, shameless but hey, and then he gave his eyebrows a playful lift; "I suppose it depends on who's doing the pawing."

Julia laughed, shaking her head in mock offence, and glanced away, eyes on the dancefloor; "Do you dance?" She met his eyes, expectantly.

"I do. But not tonight." Or ever again. Hopkins could be watching this very moment. Spies anywhere. He knew how people infiltrated; he was a snake himself. And he didn't doubt that Hopkins had some loyalists, sympathisers of his own, within these very walls.

"Is that due to a lack of inclination…or simply disinterest?"

Regulus met Julia's eyes at the forwardness. And then he grinned. Perhaps Lily Potter ought to take some tips from this girl.

"Definitely not the latter, Miss Bradbury."

Julia's smile widened and then she pulled up the stool next to him, taking a seat, and lifted a finger in the direction of the barman; a drink.

Regulus watched her.

For a moment, his mind flittered over thoughts about the constellations and the stars; the well-rehearsed spiel on the tip of his tongue. And then brown eyes met his, a cheekiness in the expression, and Regulus pushed those thoughts away.

Well. Maybe not this time.

"It seems your inaction has appeared suspicious."

"Inaction, Severus? Would you have preferred I had acted on your recommendations and sent Harry Potter underground, when your master is quite clearly watching my every move?"

Severus glowered at the old man, but Dumbledore carried on, regardless; "The very fact that he seeks to learn the full truth of the prophecy demonstrates to us his uncertainty. Had he truly believed Harry Potter to be of interest he would have acted immediately. I assume he had assigned no one with the task of finding him yet? His interest no doubt stems from further doubts with relation to Neville Longbottom."

"Who is dead! If he doubts that the prophecy has been dealt with in its entirety, then it is to be expected that his next point of interest will be –"

"Further action will only force him in that direction, as you well know. For now, the wards and protective spells are sufficient. So far there have been no breaches, am I right? I know Lily Potter and yourself speak often and that she comes to you for advice. Be careful of your partiality, Severus, it leads you to recklessness. And the last thing Lily needs is to be influenced by your fears."

"My fears? My logic, Headmaster!"

"By all means, Severus, take it upon yourself to protect them, if you think your actions will prove successful. Though I strongly advise against it."

A knock at the door sounded and both men turned at the intrusion; an expected one. Sirius Black, followed by Lupin and then Lily walked into the room.

Black rolled his eyes when he caught sight of Severus.

"Ah. Mrs Potter! It was my expectation that you may wish to sit this one out."

"Sit this one out?" Lily repeated, looking immensely curious; "Is that why I didn't receive a message of my own tonight?"

"I did not want to interrupt the festivities. I was under the impression you were to be in attendance at the Foundation this evening."

"I was. Remus sent me the message; we assumed that was the reason I didn't receive a patronus call."

Lupin and Black sat down on the two chairs further from Severus; Lily made to take the seat next to him and met his eyes as she lowered herself into the chair but he adverted them and that was enough to alert her. Her gaze hardened as she turned back to Dumbledore; "What's going on?"

Dumbledore glanced in Severus' direction and he could have sworn the old man actually looked exasperated for a second, before his day to day persona resumed and he calmly answered.

"It seems that there is an attack to be expected at the Department of Mysteries. Possibly this very night. The Order has already been dispatched to await a possible strike, though the exact details of it are currently unknown. However, upon its commencement, there is a specific task I wished to assign to yourselves, Mr Black and Mr Lupin."

Dumbledore related it to them; they were to guard or, if already taken, infiltrate the Hall of Prophecy, find the Keeper, if possible – as the Order has been unable to them locate so far, having no clue who it is due to the secrecy surrounding his post – and take him to a secure location while the attack took place.

"You expect me to sit this one out, Professor?" Lily met the Headmaster's look evenly, daring him to try her. She connected the dots, quickly.

Dumbledore returned the look, seeming unfazed by her defiance, and then he tilted his chin downwards; "It is in the best interest of all involved that you remain anonymous."

"What's with all this cryptic mumbo-jumbo?" Sirius interrupted; "Why does Lily need to be anonymous?"

Dumbledore straightened; "For the reason I am about to impart. I suppose I needn't ask, for Lily seems to think that holding this over my head will lead to me conceding to her demands, but I shall do so, anyway. I wonder if either of you are aware of the reasons behind Neville Longbottom's death?"

"Because Voldemort is a sick son of a bitch, that's why."

"Perhaps an accurate description in the more general sense, Mr Black, but in this matter, he did have motive."

"Motive?" Remus Lupin spoke up; "To kill a boy?"

"To kill a boy," Dumbledore conceded; "Before Neville Longbottom was born a prophecy was made, claiming that the child would have the capability to defeat him. Since then, Voldemort has made it a priority to eliminate the threat. For now, he wishes to seek confirmation of his success."

"What threat could a little kid have been to him?" Black frowned; "He's been after the Longbottoms since before he disappeared. Neville was just a ba –" He broke off as logic, quite shockingly, began to knit the pieces together for him.

But Lupin beat him to it; "He was after Lily and James as well."

"So we believed, Mr Lupin."

There was a silence. The information sinking in. To Severus, it seemed to take forever. Thick skulls and all that.

"Harry?" Lupin's voice was a whisper.

Dumbledore only inclined his head.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Black suddenly rounded on Severus, eyes flashing; "I told you! Anything to do with Harry's safety –"

"Severus is aware of all these particulars, Mr Black. And as you are aware, Severus is our spy within Voldemort's ranks, as such it is prudent to include him in our discussion for it is through him that we have learned of his intentions. While the Order will be dispatched to deal with this attack, only you two –"

"Three," Lily interrupted.

"Very well – three – shall know the true purpose behind it. It is imperative that he does not get his hands upon the prophecy.

"As I have explained to Severus, the prophecies can only be lifted by those who are subject to its contents. Which is none of you. And to lift it from its stand will afflict anyone unconnected with a most undesirable fate. My advice to all of you in this matter is simple; do not attempt to remove the prophecy."

"Why doesn't Voldemort just go and take it himself?" Black demanded; "He's a subject of it."

"Considering the Ministry's current lock down upon anything related to the Dark Arts in response to Neville Longbottom's murder, I believe it is Voldemort's intention to be cautious. While the prophecies are placed under magical protection in order to prevent them being lifted, the stipulation that they can be removed by those to whom they pertain is a Ministry-invoked one. Meaning, there is a chance that they could adapt the magic, so as to deny Voldemort the access to it. Or, indeed, if that is not possible; they may have placed an entirely new protective measure upon it, to the same effect. Those in the Ministry are bound to be aware of its interest to him, as such they may use it as a means to lure and disable him. A big risk for him, I presume, especially when one considers that he only wishes to seek reassurances, and one he does not seem willing to take; his sanity."

"What sanity?" Black ground out.

Severus felt his lips twitch; for once in agreement with the man.

"It is my belief that the less people who know of the existence of the prophecy, the better. Voldemort's ignorance remains our advantage; we do not want to give him reason to doubt his accomplishment. Considering your own interest in this matter, I know you will treat this task with upmost importance and discretion." Dumbledore pushed on; "The other Order members will be under the impression that the Ministry itself is under attack, whereas your focus will be more localised –"

"I don't understand," Remus interrupted; "If the prophecy can only be lifted by Neville Longbottom, and he isn't willing to touch it himself, why is Voldemort going after it now? No other can lift it."

"Not entirely accurate; it is possible that Voldemort has learned the identity of the Keeper, which leads me to believe he – or she – is the focus of the endeavour."

The Dark Mark suddenly burned and Severus almost flinched at the intensity of it.

Severus stood; "The attack is imminent." And, with that, he turned and swept from the room, leaving Dumbledore to impart the necessary information to the others while he went to the Dark Lord's side.

Regulus tugged the waistband of his trousers back up over his hips, reaching for each end of his belt as his eyes drifted up the bare back of the woman in front of him.

A hand reached around, trying to catch the zipper with her fingers; "Need a hand?"

Julia glanced over her shoulder at him, face flushed but that teasing smile was back, and she raised an eyebrow; "He takes the clothes off and he puts them back on? Colour me impressed."

Regulus' grinned as he finished off fastening his belt, stepping forward to pull the zipper up, and reached for the bolero that had been tossed carelessly onto his desk when he'd removed it, holding it up between them.

"Thank you." She mock-curtsied with a smile and took it from him, simply holding it in a hand and left to dangle at her side.

Regulus kept his eyes on her. He was pretty well accustomed to the aftermath of these encounters, so much so that it was rarely awkward for him anymore.

Julia seemed just as unfazed as he, only tilting a head to the side under his scrutiny; "Well, Mr Black? What's it to be? A calling card? Or shall we just call it a night?"

Regulus smiled.

And then the Dark Mark burned.

Searing, hot and deep; the battle cry.

Ah.

Fantastic.

"Hm." Julia was grinning.

Regulus frowned. He actually felt guilty; "I'm sorry, I –"

"Hey, don't sweat it, Black. You were an itch. You've been scratched." Julia gave him a wink and then she turned and swept from the room.

Regulus watched her go but the second the door clicked shut behind her, he turned, heading for the office exit into the courtyard.

Off to war, it seemed.

Ah well. Not a bad send off, if he did say so himself.

By the time the three of them reached the Ministry, the battle was already well underway, the Order members who had been dispatched prior ready and waiting for the onslaught.

As such, they were able to take the Death Eaters off-guard, an ambush of their own this time, and Lily briefly wondered how they would explain away the forewarning that the Order had received. Obviously, it had been Severus that had warned them. Wouldn't them lying in wait, so clearly aware of the details, only serve to give him away? Put him in danger?

Lily didn't have time to consider it further, the thought fleeting, for at the moment her concern was focused entirely upon the task at hand. Keeping the prophecy from getting into Voldemort's hands.

The damn thing had caused her no end of grief for the past seven years, even before she knew of its existence.

Sirius and Remus had asked question after question on the way to the Ministry, both realising from Dumbledore's words that she had known of the threat to Harry and they wanted to know more. But she could offer them nothing, the knowledge she had acquired from Severus so limited and the small amount of information she'd received from Dumbledore the same as what he had imparted at their meeting.

There was a prophecy claiming a boy had the power to defeat Voldemort. And he would decide which one it was.

Remus placed a hand on her shoulder, urging her to lower herself, as the three of them crept into the building; easily unseen due to the chaos going on a few feet away. The Department of Mysteries, level nine. Lily had never even been to the building before; James had dealt with the registering both of their marriage and, later, Harry's birth and no other occasion had arisen for her to so.

But, she could see, they were almost there, at the corridors that would lead them to where they needed to be. Almost. And then, Peter Pettigrew suddenly appeared before them.

Who they all now knew, had been willing to give up Harry to that monster.

"You son of a bitch!"

Sirius saw red.

Hell, they all did, but Sirius was the one who lunged for him; forgetting to even draw his wand for a second, as a fist collided with the man's jaw. The physical attack over a magical one gave Peter the advantage, however, as his own wand was already drawn for battle and he easily sent Sirius flying with a spell of his own.

Remus retaliated. And their cover was blown; suddenly they were under the attack of the nearby Death Eaters, as they took in the appearance of the three newcomers.

"Einlatus!"

Lily didn't hold back. All restraint she had demonstrated during her practice duels with Severus gone, in light of the reality of war, of their circumstances; just as she had told him it would, when he had teased her about her going easy on him. It was far easier to lose control when you despised the people you were cursing, after all, particularly when their sole aim was to deliver an item to a madman who would most definitely respond by trying to kill her son.

"Crucio!"

Lily hit the ground, a scream on her lips; her furious thoughts causing her to lose control, her focus for a minute. Severus had warned her of that, also, told her to block out emotions, do not be driven by them. As the Cruciatus was lifted, she flung a curse their way.

Flashes of light from her own wand joined the others in the room; her incantations cried out, alongside the others. It was as if the war had never ended. Everything was familiar.

And yet, it wasn't. Her motives for being here now were entirely different.

Harry.

And she and Remus and Sirius were allowing themselves to get distracted; they had a task and the task directly affected her son. Fighting here, in the Ministry corridors, when the object of their protection remained nine floors above was insane.

Action in this case got her nowhere.

Brains over brawn. Stop being a Gryffindor. She was sure someone had said that to her before.

So, when she took down her next opponent, she used the opportunity to duck behind the nearest cover she could locate; "Stupefy!" she hissed, quietly as possible, but with just as much feeling as it would have been if she had cried it, bringing down a Death Eater who came upon her.

If the men she'd come with were unable to join her in the endeavour, she'd just have to go up there herself.

So she did.

Although much easier said than done; for she was certain it took almost twenty minutes just for her to finally reach the twelves doors that Dumbledore had spoken of. And, now, it was a guessing game of which one was the chamber she sought, stepping through the first cautiously, expecting Death Eaters to be waiting at every turn.

A second door.

A third.

A fourth.

All of them wrong.

Until she, finally, stepped through the fifth and there they were, just as Dumbledore had said; every surface covered with clocks. A bell jar, casting flickering light across the room. The time turners. She didn't have time to marvel at it, the surreal atmosphere; seeking the access that Dumbledore had spoken of, cautiously passing through into the Hall of Prophecy.

Lily clutched her wand tight in her hand, expecting to be attacked immediately, but there were no Death Eaters on guard. She supposed the Order's ambush had thwarted their plans.

But she couldn't take that for granted, casting a quiet 'lumos' as her eyes carefully scanned the room, any places where a Death Eater could be hiding; lying in wait and ready to strike.

God, she was becoming more paranoid with every year that went by.

And no wonder.

Lily had not been oblivious to the meaning behind Dumbledore's words back in the office. She immediately noticed Severus' unconcealed concern during the brief glance they had shared. Dumbledore's warning was unspoken but, to her, it was clear as day; Voldemort may believe that Neville Longbottom was the child the prophecy referred to but Dumbledore didn't.

Otherwise, he would simply let Voldemort take the prophecy; why not? After all, if it was the Longbottoms there was no longer anything for him nothing to lose, the family already having been lost, murdered, massacred, and Dumbledore failing in his endeavours to help them.

When no assault was forthcoming, Lily allowed her guard to drop slightly, only enough for her to take in the room before her; shivering against the cold as she did. But the thousands of lights shimmering within the orbs that lined the towering shelves almost made her jaw drop, as she took in the sight; allowed herself a second just to marvel.

This room holding the future of thousands.

Including her own. If her suspicions regarding Voldemort were correct.

But the second to marvel, to stand in simple awe, was fleeting; she had a purpose; a mission.

Not only the one Dumbledore had assigned, though she did as he had instructed, keeping her eyes open; on the lookout for the Keeper whom he had spoken of.

But to find the prophecy he had spoken of. And destroy it.

And so she set about looking for it; the prophecy that Voldemort sought. The prophecy that endangered her son.

It took forever.

It seemed to.

There was no order to the way the orbs were stored at all. Everything was random and numerous and bright. She made her way down the rows, eyes scanning, looking for the name. For Voldemort. Longbottom. Potter. Feeling as if she were in a dream, or a nightmare, surrounded as she turned on the spot in some places, seeking it.

Remembered, briefly, that it was the Keeper she should be looking for. Only he could lift the prophecy.

Or Neville. Or Voldemort. So Dumbledore wanted her to believe.

The room was deathly silent; she could not even hear a sound from the battle that she knew raged just beyond the walls of the chamber. Just she in here, alone in the silence, with the prophecies and the answers that Dumbledore sought to keep from her.

The orbs began to blur into one another, the inscriptions becoming unfocused, as she hurriedly tried to go through them all. An impossible task; she would never find it in here. The whole thing made the term needle in a haystack sound laughable; how about a grain of sand in the fucking universe?

She almost missed it. It was so inconspicuous; exactly the same as all the others. It didn't even have her son's name on it. Or Voldemort. Or Longbottom. Nothing seemingly special about it at all, as she had stepped down the aisle that held it, eyes finally finding it.

Except, that this little orb had the power to destroy her son's life.

A simple inscription hung from the stand;

S.P.T to A.P.W.B.D
Dark Lord.
.?.
1980.

Do not attempt to remove the prophecy.

Dumbledore had been clear. To touch it when it did not pertain to you would mean instant affliction with madness.

It most definitely didn't pertain to her. Staring at the inscription, Lily was left to wonder at it, for it seemed to be connected to no one but 'the Dark Lord'; neither Harry nor Neville's name graced the little tag that hung from it.

Lily wasn't an idiot.

Neville had been killed almost two weeks previously. There was no reason for the inscription not to read his name. Unless, that is, his death had occurred prior to a fulfilment of the contents within it; unless it was not possible for it to have been him.

Which only meant –

"Well, well. Mrs James Potter." A low laugh sounded from her side and Lily spun to face the masked Death Eater than had come upon her; "I'm going to enjoy this."

She tightened her grip on her wand, taking a step back, only to feel the distinct sensation of a wand press firmly against the small of her back.

"Don't move."

Lily frowned, even as panic shot through her. She knew the voice but she couldn't place it. But she couldn't dwell on that, even think about it right now; that she knew, yet another, of the Death Eaters, particularly when they were going to stand here and watch her be killed in a moment, if more of them started appearing.

She gripped her wand tighter.

This was bad.

This was a fucking nightmare.

Regulus watched as Lily Potter raised her wand slightly, as she stood face to face with Mulciber, his own wand pressed to her back.

Could he just 'stupefy' her? Would Mulciber let it be?

No. He wouldn't.

Regulus had taken this post to protect the prophecy. To be there, ensure there was no way the Dark Lord would learn of its contents, by whatever means necessary. Severus seemed to think it was imperative that he never know, which seemed to imply hope; that Harry Potter was the child who would defeat him.

Not that Severus would consider it hope, of course, considering the circumstances. The boy was the child of the woman he loved, so obviously there was a conflict of interest. And Severus, he knew, thought that prophecies and the like were a bunch of nonsense; no way could the future be predicted.

Regulus, however, thought differently. Perhaps growing up in a household of constellation worshipers had done it. But divination, while not something he tended to focus much time on, for Regulus' mind always seemed entirely lost in the past, wasn't something to be scoffed at.

If Neville Longbottom was truly the one with the power and he had been killed, then what chance did they have? Especially, considering the methods the Longbottoms' had resorted to; they had the power to defeat him. They did. And he was revived, anyway. And would be again and again and again until the horcruxes were found.

Maybe Harry Potter was the key to it all.

Nevertheless, his and Severus' goal was the same; the Dark Lord must never know.

He would learn of it when Harry Potter struck him down, once and for all.

Though there were more pressing matters for him to focus on right now.

Regulus had not counted on Lily Potter showing up.

Dumbledore's orders had always been clear, just as he had said to Severus earlier that night; 'protect the spies' at all costs. Their lives superseded any of those within the Order because they were of more value to him. Those hadn't, exactly, been Dumbledore's words when he had spoken to him of it, of course. The old man was not so crass; he tended to conceal his more questionable instructions behind a smile and a suggestion rather than coming right out and saying it.

But, said it with suggestion his old Headmaster had; if he were to ever find himself in a situation where he would have to blow his cover to save someone, don't do it. There was a bigger picture to consider. The Greater Good.

Easy for you to say, Old Man, sitting behind your big fancy desk.

But now wasn't the time for bitterness; how was he going to get Lily Potter out of this?

"Impedimenta!"

She struck first and it was blocked, swiftly, and another curse sent her way. She blocked it and as she did, she thrust an elbow back upwards and got Regulus in the nose.

He yowled, pathetically, reaching up to grasp at it as it bled; not expecting it, having not been at all in attack-mode himself.

"What the fuck are you doing, Regulus?" Mulciber rounded on him, when he made no move to assist in attacking her.

Thank Merlin, he'd said his name. Maybe she'd react to it. Know to back up; come this way. He'd let her through. He'd help her.

She did. She backed up, careful to shoot a curse his way as she did – keep up appearances, he hoped that's all it was, at the distinctive slice through the skin of his shoulder as 'sectumsempra' escaped her lips. It was restrained, not enough to do real damage and probably the better of the options, under the circumstances. She couldn't jinx him into a body bind or a confundus, after all.

She needed him upright.

But, he had to keep up appearances also, and so he lifted his wand and fired a curse in her direction; careful to direct it a little too far to the left so that it missed. It struck two orbs, sending them to the ground, and when they smashed apparitions floated out of each of them, speaking two different statements, simultaneously, which he hadn't expected.

Nor had anyone, for the spectacle drew the attention of Lily Potter and Mulciber also, but she recovered fast and fired a curse in Mulciber's direction, all but forgetting about him behind her.

But, really, she had to at least make a suggestion of fear that there were two of them there; just as the thought came to his mind, he was suddenly struck with a stinging jinx right up his left arm. And he almost scowled at her. In fact, he thought he did but thankfully his mask concealed the indignation.

He fired a jinx her way, careful to miss her again.

"You're fucking useless, Black!" Mulciber snarled, as he engaged her with ferocity; "Crucio!"

Lily's scream filled the room and Regulus cringed; someone would hear. They would come. They'd all come and she'd be dead.

But she struck back, getting Mulciber with a 'sectumsempra', right across the torso, and he stumbled back and the Cruciatus lifted.

She didn't hesitate, firing another jinx in Regulus' direction, and then engaged Mulciber once again.

Their spells fired forth rapidly but, if Regulus had been her enemy, there was no doubt they would have easily floored her by now. Particularly considering that she often presented her back to him, a dead giveaway, and Regulus was beginning to realise his feigned attempts at bringing her down were not quite hitting the mark.

His reluctance was obvious.

Suddenly, Lily struck Mulciber with a spell that sent him several feet backwards, landing on the floor with a thud but she didn't react or run at the sight, her attention turning to the prophecy on the shelf that she had been inspecting upon discovery and she directed her wand at it and Regulus frowned as light fired forth, striking the orb and sending it tumbling from its holder.

All three watched as it tumbled to the ground, smashing instantly on impact as the others had done before it, and the apparition appeared. Mulciber quickly scrambled closer, tearing his mask from his face when he was close enough to hear the words of the destroyed prophecy before it was lost forever; relay it to the Dark Lord through his memories, if not in physical form.

"The one with the power to vanquish –"

Lily lifted her wand again – "Expelliarmus!" torn from Mulciber's lips sending it flying – and Regulus understood.

Regulus shot a curse, as if to hit Lily, and then fired a following one on its heels, a quiet 'confringo', that blew up the shelf behind them, sending he and Lily to the floor, arms up to protect themselves against the sudden crashing of the woodwork that came down upon them, along with all the surviving prophecies; each of them smashing upon impact and their own individual predictions filling the air, alongside the offending one that needed to be protected, the object of their mission.

And in the commotion, there was no chance that the words could be heard.

Not even if the Dark Lord were to burst into their minds with the full force of his legilliemency and attempt to hear the words for himself.

"You idiot!" Mulciber roared, rounding on him.

Lily Potter met his eyes across the floor, her gratitude palpable, and he forced himself to look away, focus on the fact that Mulciber looked quite ready to slaughter him in that moment.

Regulus bounced up onto his feet, gave a chuckle and shrug, speaking with the same nonchalance he would do as a teenager; "Come on, man. He called me out of my coming home party. Can't help it if I've had a few drinks."

Mulciber glared at him, murderously.

Both would feel the full force of their master's fury. Both would suffer the Cruciatus. Perhaps, even, the killing curse for their incompetence.

Mulciber rounded on Lily Potter, suddenly, filled with rage as she grasped for her disarmed wand and began to flip herself over; too slow. Vulnerable. Not a chance at defending herself.

Screw Dumbledore's orders.

"Avada keda-"

"Expelliarmus!"

Mulciber's wand flew several feet into the air.

A deathly silence filled the room, broken only by the sound of the thin wooden object hitting the stone ground.

Mulciber followed it with his eyes, rounding to face Regulus the second that it did, with eyes that expressed shock, confusion and further rage; "What the hell?"

"We need her alive," Regulus declared.

"Why?"

Why, you ask? Good question.

Killing as many Order members as possible was part of the mission, also.

Regulus' mind went blank; there was no way he could talk his way out of this.

Mulciber's eyes flashed with realisation.

Of course they did. Many of the other Death Eaters had been suspicious of him, some of them for years, because of the Foundation.

And now, Mulciber knew the truth.

Regulus raised his wand as Mulciber spun, lunging for his own, and the quick movement meant that Regulus' spell only just missed him and then Lily Potter sprung to action and sent a further curse his way. And, suddenly, the room was filled with lights and further smashes and the murmured voices of the prophecies joined their cries. This time the attacks were ferocious, now that Lily and Regulus were not holding back the impact of their own spells.

The noise, Merlin, if the others hadn't heard her screams before, they would certainly hear this.

Lily was using a mix of jinxes and curses; 'sectumsempra', 'einlatus', 'impedimenta', 'stupefy'.

But surely she knew; there was no way. It had to be done. It had to.

For them both.

"Expelliarmus!"

Lily disarmed him, when they finally managed to overpower him, their attacks coming together, too fast for him to repel them both.

The door to the room burst open, just as the curse left Regulus' lips;

"Avada kedavra!"

Mulciber fell to the ground; dead.

Peter Pettigrew stood in the doorway.

Eyes locked on Regulus.

Regulus did not look in Lily's direction; she was concealed behind the shelves. He willed her, silently, to remain so. Don't let him see you. Otherwise, this was all for nothing.

Regulus lifted his wand, swift in his movements, and Pettigrew did the same; Regulus firing a curse in the insufferable man's direction, another killing curse – it came so easy to his lips that it sickened him – and Pettigrew turned his wand on himself and, suddenly, the man was no more.

And a rat went running from the clothes that piled, escaping Regulus' further curses that he fired at the creature, as Regulus raced to the doorway; failing in his endeavours.

Catching sight of it as he reached the doorframe.

The rat escaped through a hole in the wall.

Back to the Dark Lord.

Fuck.

Regulus could do nothing but run.