Chapter 7: Sparrowhawk

"Thank you, Lily," Severus said stiffly as he stood the hall of Annie's house. "I appreciate it."

She smiled up at him from her seat on the floor, tying Robin's shoes. "Don't worry about it," she said. "It's been so long since I've seen my godson!" She ruffled Robin's hair affectionately. "We're going to have such a lovely day- lunch out in the garden, and there's a family of ducks down in the pond. We'll feed them some bread! And he hasn't even met Harry yet."

"How is… he?" Severus asked, once again swallowing the urge to tell Lily to leave Potter and let her daughter grow up as nature intended. But he'd tried, and Lily just kept insisting that she was fine, they were fine, that she loved James, and Severus couldn't stand to hear that horrible little sentence again.

"He's doing lovely. He's walking already! Well, tottering." Her gaze turned wistful. "I wish you could see him, Sev," she lamented. But they both knew that that was impossible. With the location of Potter Cottage secret kept, and Harriet's location such an issue of security, Severus would not put her life at risk. His occlumency skills were good, and growing ever better under Dumbledore's tuition, but no occlumens was ever truly infallible. It was too much of a risk, and in truth, he didn't know if he could bear to see her raised as a little boy. There were times he hated the traditions of the wizarding world.

"Does Potter even know where you are now?" Severus bit out harshly.

"Severus, let's not argue," Lily pleaded. "Not now. It doesn't matter. Robin and Harry and I will have a lovely day together, and you can go to the doctor's with Annie, and not have to worry at all. It will all be fine."

"Harriet," Severus hissed.

"Harry," Lily said firmly.

"It's like you don't even remember you have a daughter!" His hair hung around his face, casting it into shadows, but she could not miss the flashing of his eyes even as he looked away and she was met with a wall of impenetrable Severus. But still, she had to try.

"I have a son," she riposted. "A beautiful, smiling, strong son." She looked down at Robin, who was clearly used to standing around waiting for grown-ups to finish talking. He had to do it every week when Annie took him to church. "Come on then, little man," she said with a smile. "Let's get going so your Mummy and Daddy can get on."

Severus watched them go down the garden path, hand in hand. His own hands were clenched, his fingernails digging crescents into his palms. She should be his… that should be Lily, with their son, and Harriet… Hur turned away and shut the door. "Annie?" he called. "Are you ready?"

There was no answer. With a roll of his eyes, Severus climbed the stairs to find her.

Down the street, Lily crouched before Robin. "Have you apparated with your Daddy before, Robin?" she asked.

Wide eyed, the child nodded. He didn't really know who this pretty lady was, but his Daddy had told him that she was his godmother. But he thought Auntie Isabel was his godmother, not this lady- Auntie Lily, he remembered. She smiled kindly. "Good," she said."I'm going to apparate with you, and we're going to go and meet my little boy. He's called Harry and he's a bit littler than you-he's not long turned one!"

"I'm four," Robin informed her gravely.

She smiled. "I know. You're a very big boy, aren't you?"

Robin just blinked at her. She looked a bit sad, he thought. "You're just like your father," she said. "He was always very quiet too." She stroked his cheek with the back of her fingers. "Now then, we're going to go to my house." She pulled a little scrap of screwed up paper from her pocket. "And finding my house is a bit like a treasure hunt- you have to have a clue first, or you can't find it. Shall we read it together?" She tucked Robin carefully against her side, wrapping an arm around him and unfolding the little bit of paper. There, in Wormtail's scrawl, was written 'The Potter cottage can be found on Old Farm Lane, Godric's Hollow.' She helped Robin sound out the words.

He tucked his chin close down to his chest. "I don't understand," he muttered.

"That's okay," she said, kissing the top of his silky little head gently. "You don't really have to understand." For a child, seeing the secret-keeper's note was usually enough. "Let's go and see the ducks, shall we?"

Robin didn't seem to mind the yawning, pressing abyss of apparition, holding tightly onto Lily, and they both landed quite safely just inside the secret-kept wards. She opened the front door. "I'm home, Mrs. Bagshot," she called. "How's my little Harry then?"

Lily had to revise her opinion of Robin as a quiet boy when he ran screeching around the garden chasing a pigeon, Harry toddling after him on chubby little legs. The two boys couldn't be more different- Robin, tall even for his age, with long silky dark hair and serious eyes, and Harry, all curves and smiles and baby roundness with a tuft of James-wild hair sticking straight up from the top of his head. Her little boy burbled with laughter even as his little legs went from under him and he plopped down onto his well-padded bottom. She plucked another daisy from the lawn, slipping it onto her daisy-chain.

Robin ran up to her, then, shyly, looking at his feet, pulled his hands from behind his back and offered her a daisy. "For me?" she asked with a smile, and he nodded. "Thank you," she said, pulling him closer to kiss his head. "They're my favourites." She tucked it into her hair and he grinned. "Shall we go inside for cake and lemonade?" she suggested.

Robin grinned from ear to ear.

In typical timing, the doorbell rang just as she was strapping Harry into his high chair. "Stay here," she warned both boys before answering the door. There were only a few people it could be, a few people who had access through the fidelius wards.

"Albus! This is a surprise!"

He smiled benignly. "I thought I would just drop in and see you."

"I would have thought that you would be busy with getting everything ready for the start of term on Monday," she said.

"A short break, my dear. Perhaps I could come in for a cup of tea?"

Lily dithered. "I've a guest," she admitted..

Albus' bushy eyebrows drew together slightly. "A guest?" he asked.

"Yes," she agreed. She had no idea if Albus knew about Robin- Severus was so very secretive. She really could think of no way to explain this away without it sounding like she was having an affair. She was about to come clean when Albus' face suddenly cleared.

"Ah," he said. "Might it perhaps be Severus' little boy? I am aware that he and the child's mother had an appointment today… a muggle doctor, I believe? I did wonder who would be watching the child."

Lily visibly sagged with relief at not having to keep the secret. "Yes, it is," she said. "If… if you don't mind being subjected to the sight of two small children smearing chocolate cake on their faces, perhaps you'd like to come in for some tea?"

Dumbledore smiled benignly. "Some tea would be lovely… and some cake too." He stepped inside, taking off his hat and hanging it on the coat stand. "Maybe I could have moment alone with Severus' lad? We met not so very long ago. He's a charming little creature."

Lily glanced up at him. She had no idea why Dumbledore would need to be alone with Robin, but then, she knew he would never harm a child, and he was always mysterious about his intentions. She supposed that it came from his formidable intellect. "Take the living room," offered. "I'll make some tea."

"That would be lovely," he twinkled. Then his voice grew serious, and she was reminded of standing with her head down and her hands clasped before his desk in the headmaster's study, explaining why she'd been seen talking to a boy, in her nightdress, outside her common room and in the middle of the night. "Lily… how did you circumvent the Fidelius wards for the child? Did Peter meet him?"

"No, I got him to write it down," she said. "Don't worry, the note's already destroyed- I know how dangerous it can be."

"Good," Dumbledore replied, sidling past her into the kitchen. "Ah! How nice to see you again so soon!" he twinkled at Robin. "Now then, how about you and I go through into the living room?"

Robin, sitting obediently at the kitchen table, shot a look at Lily. "Go on," she encouraged. "I'll have some cake all ready for you when you've had a little chat with your Uncle Albus- wasn't it nice of him to come to visit?"

Robin slid off his chair, and Dumbledore held out a hand towards Robin. The little boy just blinked at him, ignoring it. Albus chuckled. "An independent one, aren't you? Just like your father. Go on then, go through…" He guided Robin into the bright living room with a hand between the boy's shoulder blades.

"Now then, young man," Dumbledore twinkled, crouching down in front of Robin to kneel on the hearth rug. "You've had a lovely day, haven't you?"

Robin watched the headmaster from under his dark eyelashes. Slowly, he gave a little nod. "And I'm sure you'll remember it for a nice long while," Dumbledore told him. "You just might not quite remember where you were."

And then Robin started to whimper, then he screamed, his high wail cutting the air. Lily dashed through from the kitchen, only just preceded by the sound of the cake knife clattering against the countertop. Her wand was already in her hand. "What are you doing to him?" she cried out. "Stop it! Stop!"

Dumbledore patted Robin's head. "There, there," he said. "All done now." He straightened up, and Lily immediately snatched Robin into her arms. "What did you do to him?" she demanded, trying to soothe the crying child.

"It was for your safety, Lily," Dumbledore said solemnly. "I've just removed the knowledge of your address from the boy, that is all. I would so hate for it to fall into the wrong hands."

"You don't trust Severus!" she accused. "Shh, Robin, it's fine. He's not going to touch you again. I promise." She put him carefully on the floor. "You should go into the kitchen- I've put some cake for you on a plate on the table."

With a last sniffle, Robin agreed, and a gentle push to his shoulder sent him trotting off. "Why don't you trust Severus?" Lily asked.

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "In this, my dear, it is wisest not to trust Severus. Do not trust anyone you are not sure of- trust in your husband, and trust in his friends. You will learn, I think. But perhaps best not to mention this to Severus, yes?"

"He was going to do it," she said woodenly. "He was going to hide the memory himself. He wants us to be safe, Albus! He wants me to be safe!"

Dumbledore took off his glasses, carefully polishing them on the edge of his sleeve. "Do not underestimate the power of love, my dear Lily. Love, and the power of hate." Lily made to interrupt, but he held up a hand, silencing her with the power of a teacher, the power of a man over her in all society. "Severus loves you," he told her. "You try not to see it, but you know. And you resist, as is right, you resist because you stay to the light. And Severus hates James. You know that too. Do not underestimate what Severus feels- his mind goes deeper than even you would expect."

"He would have done it," Lily insisted weakly

"Well, now there is no need," Dumbledore said smoothly. "I have saved him a task. But I think he does not need to know that it caused his son pain."

"Why?" Lily whispered. "Why did it hurt him? It shouldn't hurt him… should it?"

"No, my dear, not usually. But Severus has always been very skilled at hiding his thoughts, even as quite a young boy. Perhaps this child has inherited something of his talent for shrouding his mind, and it caused him pain. Or perhaps his magic is not so very strong, as he cannot shield his thoughts."

She frowned. She wondered if Dumbledore could possibly be suggesting what it sounded like. "He's a… he might be a… squib?" She whispered the word, not wanting Robin to even hear a memory of the word on the wind. To not have magic, to see this world around you and be unable to participate… She'd seen what it did to Petunia. No one deserved that. Not Severus' little boy. Not when Severus had overcome so much to accept Robin.

A sad smile split Dumbledore's beard. "Perhaps, and perhaps not. You see now, why it would be best not to burden Severus?"

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes… But what if Robin says…"

"He's a child," Dumbledore placated quickly- a little too quickly. "Pain is but a moment for them, a moment easily forgotten. The cake will quite remove the trauma, I am sure."

All the same, Lily felt uneasy as she watched Robin eat little morsels of his cake. Albus had turned his attention to Harry, cooing and playing with the younger child, and Harry crowed with laughter.

Lily glanced up at the clock. "I need to take Robin back home," she said quietly. "His parents should be back by now." She hesitated a moment. After Dumbledore had hurt Robin, she was reluctant to ask this… She gave herself a mental shake. Albus hadn't meant to hurt the child: he hadn't meant any harm. Harry would be safe with him, as safe with him as he could be. "Would you mind watching Harry? I won't be long."

"I would be delighted," Albus assured her.

"Thanks," Lily said. "Come on, then, Robin… let's give your face and hands a wash, and then take you home to Mummy and Daddy, okay?" She dampened a cloth in the sink, carefully washing off the chocolate smears from around Robin's little mouth, and pulling out her wand to clean off the stain on his t-shirt. She quickly repaired the ragged hem too: Robin was clean, which was more than could be said for Severus as a child, but his clothes definitely had the same slightly aged air as his father's had. "Honestly, Albus, can't you give Severus a raise?" she groused. "Look at the state of Robin's clothes."

"Severus must cut his cloth to fit his means," Albus informed her. "As we all do."

With a deep sigh, Lily stood. "I suppose." She nibbled on her lip. "Albus… you know how much James and Severus dislike each other… I'd really appreciate it if you didn't mention to James about Robin being here."

He looked at her sadly. "You should learn to trust your husband."

"Albus…"

He looked down at Harry. "I won't tell him. But you should."

She sighed in relief. "Thank you, Albus."

She did hurry, though, because for all of Albus' promises, she didn't want James to come home and find her not there, give Albus the chance to tell him. Robin trotted down the road beside her as fast as his little legs could carry him without an all out run.

Severus answered the door almost immediately on her knock. "All okay?" she asked, ever so slightly breathless from her march up the street.

He inclined his head. "Did he behave?" he asked

"Perfectly." She hesitated on the doorstep. "There's no need to alter his memories… Albus has already done it."

Severus' eyebrows shot together. "Albus?" he asked. "I was unaware that Albus would be there." His displeasure was in every clipped syllable.

Lily had the grace to look ashamed. "He dropped in for some tea," she explained, her words garbling in her haste to be gone, to get away before Severus could ask any more probing questions. She didn't want to have to lie to him. "Look, I've got to get back… I'll see you soon, okay?" She ruffled Robin's hair. "See you again," she said kindly. "I had fun with you today."

Robin looked between them. "Can I chase the pigeons again?" he asked. "And cake?"

"Yes," she agreed with an indulgent smile. "Of course. See you, Severus. Goodbye, Robin." She turned and hurried down the street.

"Lily…" Severus called after her, but she didn't turn.

Robin tugged of Severus' hand. "I can go again, Daddy?" he asked.

"Perhaps," Severus said darkly, his eyes on Lily's retreating back.

He didn't know then, he couldn't have known, that that was the last time he'd see Lily alive.

The new term galloped by in a whirlwind of lessons and detentions and sorting out Slytherin troubles, interspersed with bathtime for Robin and keeping a close eye on the endless round of medications the muggle doctors had given Annie: pills upon pills of all different colours and sizes. Sometimes, too, there were calls to the Dark Lord, and he dreaded these more than he ever had. The Dark lord was growing even more bloodthirsty, if that was possible. Severus was grateful in the extreme that his position at the school kept him away from the killing for the most part, though of course he cursed being Albus Dumbledore's pet in the presence of the Lord, and of the Death Eaters.

He kept his mind clouded and vague.

The Dark Lord complained that teaching children was rotting Severus' brain.

He kept a desire for Lily uppermost in his mind, hoping against hope that if the Potters were found, that he might gain something from it.

The Dark Lord laughed at Severus for wanting a mudblood. Severus secretly hoped that, as the Dark Lord found it amusing rather than infuriating, he might be able to save Lily, and then, perhaps, she'd take comfort from him. Perhaps she'd be his. He should have hated himself for imaging the death of James Potter.

He didn't.

He imagined a sister for Robin, a little girl with his dark hair and Lily's green eyes. Maybe she'd have Harriet for a middle name, to remember that other little girl.

He kept these thoughts to himself.

He suffered cruciatus whenever the Dark Lord felt so inclined, leaving him shaking and weak.

He survived.

Halloween that year was a dismal day. It poured with rain, all the students huddled in the castle, aside from a few brave quidditch fools, barely visible through the driving rain. A few brave quidditch fools and Severus, a water-repelling charm on his cloak as he slogged through the grounds. There were days where he considered having Annie's house linked to the floo network.

He knew he didn't have long before he'd be expected to put in an appearance at Dumbledore's gods-forsaken Halloween feast. How he hated the feasts. The Christmas feast was probably the worst: only those students with no family to go to left to be entertained by the residential staff, who were contractually obliged to put in their appearance. The idea that residential staff might have families, or even children, seemed to escape Albus' notice. Severus knew it grated on Minerva too. He wondered if that was why Albus did it.

Severus' day got no better. Annie began to scream at him as soon as he came in, and Robin took to a corner to hide. Severus supposed that the child's fear and bewilderment showed that this was unusual behaviour, and that, at least, was a blessing. Annie only seemed to take her anger and hatred out on Severus, and showed all her love to Robin. He let the insults roll off him, grateful that the house was soundproofed, and silently extricated Robin from the corner to deposit him in the bath.

He knew he was late for the feast by the time his calm, silent presence had restored the shaken boy to normality and put him to bed.

He was halfway down the stairs when the sudden lancing pain hit. He gasped, then folded, collapsing against the stairs with his arm clutched to his chest. A guttural shout escaped him. His arm was burning, flayed, surely it was being eaten alive by a thousand rats! He didn't hear Annie shouting for him; he didn't hear Robin's renewed sobs. The buttons from his sleeve ricocheted off the wall, sent flying by nothing but the force of Severus' raw power in his pain as he scrabbled at his arm, trying to see what was wrong, trying to assess the damage.

When he'd ripped his sleeve back, still gasping and panting, there were no rats, no blood, no charred skin, but his Mark stood out, crimson, redder than blood. He dragged his wand from his robes, placing the tip against the skull, but nothing happened. This was no summoning- it was a thousand times worse than the pain of any summoning he'd known. He cast a numbing charm instead, which at least took the edge off the pain so he could think.

Groaning, he pulled himself to his feet, clinging to the bannisters. "Severus?" Annie croaked.

"See to Robin," Severus replied hoarsely. He turned everything over in his brain as he gingerly inched his way down the steps. The pain could only mean something was happening to the Dark Lord… and he remembered the Dark Lord's obsession with locating the Potters. The obsession that had worried Severus sick for months. Could he have… possibly… He knew he could not consider anything else before he knew Lily was safe. "I need to go," Severus slurred.

The first part of the trek through the house was torturous, though as he reached the garden, moving became easier. He didn't know if it was the fresh air on his face or the pain beginning to lessen, but his strides were stronger, longer, as he stumbled past the anti-apparition wards on the house and into the little copse of trees. He turned on the spot and vanished, apparating into the street in Godric's Hollow.

He shouldn't be able to see the house, he thought dumbly. It was secret kept. He shouldn't be able to see it. That thought blocked out the state of the house for a few blissful seconds. Then the blown out windows and the gaping hole in the roof sank into his conciousness0, the tumbled stone from the side of what Severus knew had been the nursery. "Lily," he breathed, and then he was running up the path towards the front door that hung off its hinges, the pain in his arm nothing more than an annoyance.

He stopped short at the foot of the stairs, where James Potter's sightless, dead eyes stared up at the ceiling. Swallowing hard, he stepped over the empty shell of his schoolday nemesis. A thousand what-ifs flashed through his mind. This could only be the work of the Dark Lord, surely… and he'd begged intercession for Lily's life so many times… perhaps the Dark Lord had been in the mood to reward a follower, perhaps he hadn't, perhaps it hadn't been the work of the Dark Lord, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. Perhaps only carried him as far as the door to the nursery where, in the flickering lamplight incongruously lighting the destroyed room, Lily lay.

Severus was on his knees on the floor beside her before he'd even had a moment to take in the scene, and he lifted her, calling her name, begging her to wake up. His fingers went to the pulse in her neck, guided by the memory of his healer's training, but there was no pulse, there was no breath, there was no life.

He held her in his arms.

He howled.

He howled out every day he'd spent without Lily by his side, and he howled out every unfairness that had led them here, every misunderstanding, every moment of selfish, horrible pride, every unkind word and every wretched cutting remark. She lay limply in his arms, her beautiful long red hair trailing across the floor, her tiny freckles standing out so plainly on her deathly white face and the light gone from her lovely eyes.

He held her as his screams faded to deep, wrenching sobs, and still she didn't stir.

And still, he was alive. Every pain in his body attested to that- the agonising ache of his Mark, the shredded remains of his throat, the tightness of every muscle and the burning of his eyes, and, most of all, the part of his chest where his heart had been ripped out whole. He couldn't take a full breath: each one came out as a strange little exhalation, a puff of air.

It was only in the silence left after his hurricane that he heard the cry that wasn't his; the thin little reedy sound. Painfully slowly, he lifted his head and looked for the source of the sound.

There, in the crib, was the child- Lily's child. His little goddaughter, Harriet, disguised. As gently as he possibly could, he laid Lily's empty form back onto the floor. He pushed himself to his feet, wobbled there a moment, then reached out to grip the edges of the crib. He tried to shush her, but only a strange hiss came from his throat. Swallowing hard, he tried again, getting a slightly better sound on the second attempt. He reached down into the crib to pick her up, and she immediately clung to him, winding her chubby toddler hands into the heavy fabric of his robes. He turned back towards the door now, his only intention to cradle this little piece of Lily, to keep her always with him.

He came face to face with Dumbledore. He was breathing heavily, clutching the child against his chest, and he just stared at the headmaster. Albus shook his head sadly. "Oh, my poor, poor boy," he crooned. "If it could have been avoided… if we'd only known… It must be so hard for you, my boy- I know what she was to you."

Severus nodded; a jerky, strange nod where his neck couldn't quite control his swimming head. "Excuse me," he said hoarsely.

Dumbledore held out out his arms. "I can take little Harry now," he said.

Severus pressed Harriet closer to his chest. "No," he said, his voice a little stronger. "She's coming with me. She belongs with me."

Dumbledore gave a sad smile, his twinkling eyes watery. "Oh, Severus, surely you cannot think that you could take Harry? No. He will have a good life, Severus, away from the stress and the endless stares of the magical world."

"No," Severus said flatly. "She can have a good life with me."

A bark of laughter emerged from Dumbledore. "With you?" he questioned. "You, Severus, who can barely keep your own blood child above abject poverty, you who won't even ensure his safety by removing him from his mad mother? You are no father in anything but blood- you don't have it in you to love a child, and wouldn't Lily want love for her child? No, Severus. I will take Harry."

There was no sorrow left, and there was no anger, only hard, cold hatred. In that moment, Severus hated Dumbledore, and he hated the Dark Lord, and more than anything else, he hated himself. If he'd been a better person, Lily would not lie dead on the floor. The child in his arms would not be an orphan.

With one last choked cry, he thrust Harriet into Dumbledore's arms and fled into the night.

Authors note:

Fidelius. Bloody fidelius. I've had so many back and forth discussions of fidelius, both for Harriet, and for this chapter. In PoA, the Potters are under fidelius for only a week before their deaths, but in DH, Lily's letter shows that they've been in hiding since before Harry's birthday. I don't understand how they can possibly be in hiding in the Potter's ancestral home without fidelius, so I've taken the executive decision that Fudge was talking utter bollocks in PoA and didn't actually have a clue. The Potters were under the fidelius since at least July 1981.

Speaking of getting everything muddled, turns out the 31st of October 1981 was a Saturday… so Vernon went to work on a Sunday? I think not, somehow… Rowling must not have checked her calendar!