Chapter Fourteen

July 22nd, 1981

James had fully expected Lily's magic to blow the roof off of the cottage, making her silent walk to the back garden almost as shocking as hearing that his son had been raised by abusive Muggles. It was like swallowing razor wire, trying to keep his composure. Only the look on Harry's face kept him from shouting or storming after Lily as she slammed the back door.

Growing up with Sirius had exposed James to what had previously been an unheard of example of the evils that some adults could reach. In some ways, James understood Voldemort more than he ever had Walburga Black. Voldemort and his Death Eaters sought to eradicate a percentage of the magical population, as though Muggle-borns like Lily and Hermione were a faceless infestation. Walburga Black, however, willingly and repeatedly sought to harm her own children. James could never understand that.

For all he knew about Lily's sister, he never imagined she could be that cruel either. The husband, Vernon, perhaps.

He wanted to ask Harry if he was okay. That was the instinct, even if he knew it was a stupid question. Even if he knew, by the look on his grown son's face, that Harry would do everything to assure him that he was fine. He was not fine. This was not okay. Nothing was okay.

"This is my fault."

Looking up, James made eye contact with Sirius, who looked more devastated than anyone else at the table. A part of him wanted to argue and tell his best friend that he was not at fault, but James could not bring himself to be Sirius's reassurance right then. Harry had been delivered to Petunia and Vernon when he should have gone to his godfather.

Opening his mouth to finally say something, James was interrupted by the sound of crying from upstairs. Before he had a chance to move or say a word, Harry jumped from his seat, muttering a rushed, "I'll take care of him," before darting out of the room in an obvious escape.

"What else?" The tightness in his throat released only to be replaced by a squeezing pain in his chest as he looked at Draco, seeing that the blond was the only one who had willingly offered information.

"Draco," Hermione said warningly.

James held up a hand in her direction, throwing a pained glare at her. He hated the way his voice cracked when he said, "He's my son."

"I don't know all of it," Draco admitted, making eye contact with James and looking as though he were purposely avoiding the steady gaze of Hermione. "Most of the things were whispered about in school. Lived in a cupboard until he came to Hogwarts. They starved him, treated him like their house-elf."

Not that it mattered, because everything he'd heard so far was damning enough, but James needed to know. "They ever hit him?"

"His cousin did," Hermione said in a whisper. "A lot. They didn't stop it. I think . . . His uncle tried to choke him once."

"Why?" Not that there was ever a good enough reason.

Though he had seen the hints of lycanthropy in the witch since her arrival with Remus—having known what to look for after growing up with a werewolf—James noticed the dark look in her eyes at his question, and for a split second, the prey instinct inside of him caused by his own Animagus form quivered at the anger that radiated off of her. His inner stag screamed "Danger. Flee." Remus must have felt something too because he settled a calm hand on her arm, and her shoulders visibly relaxed.

"He accused Harry of . . . a car backfired or something, and they thought Harry had done magic. Accused him of being up to something," Hermione spat out angrily.

James felt warmth for the girl grow at her reaction. He knew that type of anger. He'd felt it for Sirius's parents for half of his life. "Will you see . . . ? One of you—" He cleared his throat, looking between Hermione and Draco. "Make sure Harry's all right? I'll go talk to Lily."

Both silently nodded and made their way out of the kitchen. The second that they were gone, James levelled Sirius with narrowed eyes, unable to stop the way his hands were shaking. It both hurt and pleased him that Sirius looked broken by the information. "Swear it."

Swallowing hard and looking like he was holding back the urge to vomit, Sirius quietly choked out, "I won't let it happen. I don't care what . . . Someone will have to pry him from my dead fingers to take him from me."

Turning his attention to Remus, James sucked in a slow breath in order to calm himself. "And if Sirius is fool enough to get himself killed?"

James was aware of Remus's reservations about children. It had taken him longer than anyone to even hold Harry when he was born. When they had begun discussions about what to do in case the worst should happen, Remus had excused himself entirely from the conversation. That was no longer an option, and he hoped that his friend understood that.

"If something happens to Sirius," Remus began, looking sorrowfully at Sirius as he spoke, "then Hermione and I will take Harry." James suspected that Hermione would not give Remus a choice in the matter even if he wanted to argue. "I don't know where we'll go, but we'll . . . we'll go."

Sinking his fingers into his hair, James pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes. "I trust you three more than anyone in the world. You've been my brothers, my family," he finally said after a long minute of silence. "We're going to fix this. Prevent it from happening again." Sitting up with determination, he flicked his wand at the plates of food around the table, clearing them all to the sink regardless of whether or not his friends had already eaten. "We're all to blame for what happened to him. Every last one of us. And I'm holding us accountable."

"We'll fix it," Sirius agreed.

"We won't let it happen again," Remus added.

James nodded at both of them before grabbing Sirius's leather jacket from the hook near the back door. He dug through the pockets until he found what he was looking for and then left the cottage and his friends behind.

Lily knelt in the corner of the garden, waving her wand in intricate patterns that lit up portions of the wards. He had watched her and Hermione investigate and take notes the day before. James figured that she was trying to distract herself, and he did not blame her one bit.

He sniffed loudly, letting her know that he was there, and then tapped on the box he'd removed from Sirius's jacket, pulling two cigarettes from the package and sticking one behind his ear as he lit the other with the tip of his wand.

Despite how she had lectured Sirius on his habit—and would likely do with James later on—he knew that she turned to vices when stressed, and was not surprised when the first words she spoke to him were, "Give us a fag."

Lighting the second cigarette with the end of his own the way Sirius had taught him to do back when they were fifth years at Hogwarts, James stepped forward and placed it between Lily's elegantly outstretched fingers. He jumped a little when she snatched it from him, her movements as quick as a snake.

"I figured it out," she said, not looking at him. Her words came floating along the smoke as she exhaled. "The wards. Other than creatures, they don't keep anything out. We knew that, of course, but Dumbledore said that they were security wards, and I didn't even think to question him."

Furrowing his brow, James knelt down beside her. "What do you mean?"

She looked at him, her green eyes glassy. She looked both terrifying and terrified. Nothing like the doe that her Patronus was. There had always been a fierceness about his wife that drew him to her, a strength that went beyond her magical ability. She often reminded him more of a lioness or bear than a gentle deer. She looked dangerous.

"I know what the wards are. They're security, all right, but they're not protective." Her voice was tight, and James watched as her jaw tightened with each word. "They're alert wards."

His stomach turned over, and the mixture of betrayal and cigarette smoke made him want to throw up.

"Dumbledore will be notified if we die," Lily said, flicking her cigarette into the flowerbed. "When we die."

"We won't . . . That's not going to happen."

"He's done nothing to stop it. Why are we still here? Everyone knows where we live. From what they've told us, the Fidelius that Dumbledore is supposedly working on won't even keep us safe. And why these wards? He doesn't care whether we live or die, James, he only wants to know when it happens. So he can take our baby. So he can preserve his fucking prophecy!"

He expected her anger and the accidental magic that would come with it. James felt sick from keeping his own in check, but he was afraid of hurting those he loved if he let it loose even for a second. The air around them crackled from the intensity of her anger, and James's attention was drawn to the ground where the grass beneath her bare feet began to die. On instinct, he tossed his cigarette and took her hand, feeling a sharp pain similar to the hexes she used to throw at him back in school when he stepped out of line. Ignoring the sting, he pulled her tight to his chest and wrapped his arms around her, burying his nose in her hair.

"I don't know what Dumbledore is planning," he whispered. "I thought I could trust him. He wants Voldemort gone. I'm willing to sacrifice anything to keep you and Harry safe, but . . . I won't do it for anything less. I want our world safe, but not at the expense of my family."

There had been times, he was ashamed to admit, that he thought about what Voldemort offered him. It was no secret that the Dark Lord had propositioned him several times to join the cause. Sirius too. Even Remus had once been offered a place, though far below with his "own kind." James had never once wavered in the face of Death Eaters and Dark Magic. He would never consider joining them. But he had thought about leaving. Taking Harry and Lily and running as far as he could. He wanted to fight, but he wanted his family safe more. Until now, it felt like siding with Dumbledore had been the safest option.

"What do you want to do?" he asked Lily, not trusting his own decisions right now. He felt like he had put them in this position due to his blind allegiance. "I'll follow your lead."

Sniffling, with her head still pressed to his chest, Lily muttered, "I want to know what the hell Dumbledore was thinking. I want to know what he did in their timeline. I want to strangle my sister. And kick Vernon right in the cock."

Unable to stop himself, James chuckled against the top of her head.

"I mean it."

"I know you do."

"I'm not having a laugh, Potter."

Pulling back and kissing her forehead, James smiled softly. "I know you're not. And I'll Apparate you to Surrey myself just as soon as we can leave Godric's Hollow. I'll even buy you brand new dragonhide boots for the job. Pointy ones."

Lily laughed, angry tears streaking down her cheeks, turning the momentary smile into a frown. "I hate her. I thought maybe one day she would change . . . but not after this. I'll never forgive her." She shook her head emphatically. "I'll forgive Peter before I forgive Tuney for this. For all we know, he was scared for his own life. Petunia had no excuse. None."

James nodded but said nothing. Hearing that Peter had betrayed them was unthinkable, and he refused to condemn the man who was like a brother to him, not without hearing his side and finding out why. Now, however, James was finding it very hard to remember where he had stashed his mercy and forgiveness. He decided right then not to tell Lily about what Draco and Hermione told him. If she wanted to know details, she would ask for herself.

"Harry went upstairs with . . . Harry."

Lily wiped at her face and sighed. "God, I hope he doesn't think he did anything wrong. I left because I didn't trust myself not to start screaming, and I figured that was the last thing he needed if he'd been raised by . . . Goddamnit, James."

"I know. I know," he said with a heavy sigh. "Remember how Sirius was after hols? Maybe we treat Harry like normal. Don't pretend that we don't know what we know, but . . . I wouldn't draw much attention to it. He's probably embarrassed."

James recalled several instances where Sirius would have an angry outburst if his family situation was mentioned. The first time James had seen a bruise and asked about it, Sirius had reacted by punching him in the mouth. It was the only time they had ever physically fought, and the night ended with both of them bloody and crying. Sirius never liked to be confronted about what happened at Grimmauld Place, and he loathed pity to the point that he considered sympathy the same thing. James did not think that Harry would react violently, but he understood that even if the Muggles were at fault, there was a certain amount of pride involved.

"He's a grown man. Best not baby him," James said. "Just make life better."

Lily followed James back inside the house, noticing that he slipped the cigarettes back into Sirius's jacket. She did not know why she expected to see everyone still seated at the table, waiting for her to finish her tantrum. Nevertheless, she felt a pang of sadness at the sight of only Sirius and Remus still there.

"Where are they?"

"Upstairs," Remus said, offering her a sympathetic look.

She squeezed his shoulder as she rounded the table, taking note that Sirius was avoiding eye contact with her. Well, that won't do.

Silently, she moved behind him, squishing herself between his chair and the wall. She wrapped her arms around his neck from behind, resting her cheek on the top of his head. Though he rarely spoke of his family other than angry outbursts, drunken rambling, and sarcastic quips, Lily knew that Sirius had grown up in a household devoid of love. She had been at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall when Walburga's Howlers arrived. The red envelopes had come frequently the first month or so until Professor McGonagall had shot a Blasting Hex at one early October, showering the table with red confetti. No one mentioned anything about it ever again, lest they earn a stern look from their Head of House, but it was rumoured that McGonagall had put a charm on the mail wards. Either that or Walburga had just given up. Regulus Black received letters and packages just fine in the years that followed.

Lily sighed with relief when she felt Sirius grip her hands, gently squeezing her fingers.

"I'm so sorry."

"Shush," she said, kissing the top of his head. "James, will you figure out lunch for everyone?" The breakfast plates, she noticed, had already been cleared. There was still time before the next meal needed to be served—if anyone even wanted to eat; she certainly did not have an appetite—but it allowed her husband to keep himself occupied. He was tapping his fingers lightly against the countertop, something she knew he did when he was anxious. If they had more room in the garden and weren't confined within the wards, she might have suggested a short game of Quidditch.

Leaving the boys to themselves, Lily made her way upstairs, nervous about what exactly she wanted to say to Harry. She wanted to follow James's advice and not baby him, knowing that the potential for his embarrassment was high. The last thing she wanted to do was drive any type of wedge between them when she felt their strange relationship and growing bond was already so delicate.

"You have to talk to me sometime, Harry."

Lily stopped at the sound of Draco's voice, feeling guilty that her reaction likely fuelled any animosity between the two.

"On a scale of Potter Stinks badges to dressing up like a dementor and scaring you during your Quidditch match, how angry are you?"

"You're such an arsehole," Harry muttered irritably, but Lily could hear the subtle affection hidden beneath his tone. She had used it for years on James. "And for the record, I hated those badges more than the dementor thing. I wasn't scared. I cast a Patronus, if you don't remember."

"It wasn't corporeal," Draco said with a huff.

"I'm sorry I just walked out."

"No one blames you, Harry," Hermione said. "Least of all your parents."

"They deserved to know," Draco added. "You know they did."

"I know they did, but . . . Isn't there a better time for stuff like this? We're not preparing to fight the Dursleys," Harry argued. "Don't look at me like that Draco."

"What? I happen to think that taking a side trip to Surrey might be a great bonding activity for us all. Merlin knows that I've wanted to go for years, but you'd never let me."

"They weren't even living in Surrey after . . . well, after everything," Hermione said pointedly. "Harry's right. We should be focusing on Voldemort."

"They still deserved to know," Draco said coolly.

"I'm not saying that they didn't, Malfoy—"

"Listen, Granger, you need to—Wait. Hold . . . Hold the fuck still."

"Language!" Hermione snapped. "There's an impressionable child in the room, if you haven't forgotten."

"Shut up," Draco said with a harsh tone.

Lily listened closer, taking another step down the hallway to see if she could peer into the room. The door to her bedroom was cracked slightly. Harry—both of them—were out of sight, but she could see Draco clearly. He stood near the foot of her bed, looking insistent. His hands were outstretched but not far. She caught a glimpse of curly brown hair and assumed that Draco was holding Hermione's face.

"What's wrong with your eyes, Hermione? Is this because of that mate thing?" Draco's words were clipped, but there was an undercurrent of concern in his voice.

Neither Harry or Hermione said a word.

Lily put a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes, glad that Remus was downstairs and not present for this reveal.

"No," Draco whispered.

"Draco."

"It wasn't Lupin," he said, matter-of-factly.

"Of course not," Hermione said, her voice thick with emotion. "It was someone else. We needn't worry, though; he's dead."

"I did this."

"You did not," Harry said, his voice louder than before.

"I sent us back here, and you were in a bloody forest. Fuck!"

Tempted to intervene, knowing that her baby was also in the room, Lily took a few steps closer to the room. Draco disappeared from her sight, so she gently pushed on the door, opening it just enough to make eye contact with Harry, who looked up at her helplessly from the floor. His head was pressed back against the crib, and her baby's fist was pushed through the bars, resting on top of Harry's head. Draco and Hermione were embracing.

"I'll fix this," the blond muttered quietly. "Between the two of us, we can figure out how to brew Wolfsbane."

"Three of us," Harry muttered.

Draco kicked him in the leg. "We want her to feel better, not poisoned."

Harry let a small smile break his stoic expression.

Lily smiled softly and cleared her throat.

Draco jumped away from Hermione as though she were infested with spattergroit. Lily arched a brow at him curiously, and chuckled. "Thank you for keeping your swears while the baby is sleeping," she said sarcastically—in reality, she thought that maybe Hermione cared more about Draco's language than she did. Growing up with James and Sirius as role models . . . Lily was shocked that Harry's first word had not been "fuck."

Harry leant forward and turned around, likely checking to make sure the baby was still sleeping. Lily smiled as he touched the tiny hand, letting fingers curl around his thumb. The sight gave her a strange feeling in her stomach reminiscent of how she felt in the few hours after Harry was born. After she had been well-plied with Pain Relief Potions, there was a euphoria that followed Harry's birth where Lily thought she might like to have more children. Of course, seeing now that she technically had two . . . and one was old enough to—"Ach." She shuddered, bringing her shoulders up to her ears.

At the strange looks that Draco, Hermione, and Harry gave her, she cleared her throat and explained, "I just realised that I could technically be a grandmother since you're old enough to . . ." She trailed off, a limp hand gesturing at Harry.

His cheeks pinked, but he smiled at her crookedly and laughed.

"Would it put you at ease if I promised to not get him pregnant?" Draco asked.

"Jesus Christ," Hermione muttered, rolling her eyes before turning her full attention to Lily. "I imagine you two would like a moment? I'll be happy to take Draco downstairs and keep him occupied. Preferably with a Silencing Charm."

"Thank you," Lily said gratefully. She shared a brief look with Draco. Having grown up with Severus, and being able to pinpoint certain ways that Slytherins liked to cover up their more vulnerable emotions, she caught the way his smirk dipped just a touch when he made eye contact with her. Figuring that it had something to do with any guilt he might feel about outing Harry's secrets, Lily looked away, leaving the man to his feelings. Snakes, she learnt the hard way, never liked to be provoked.

Hermione ushered Draco out of the room, closing the door behind them.

Harry moved to stand, but Lily held up a hand to stop him and sat down on the floor, crossing her legs.

"So Draco knows about Hermione's condition now?"

Harry frowned. "Yeah. I didn't want to tell him. It's her business."

His words obviously had a double meaning. "I'm glad Draco told us," she whispered, taking Harry's hands just as he was about to cross them over his chest.

Still not completely sure of what to say, Lily tried to think of everything she knew about Harry and who he was as a person. Quietly adding up his individual personality traits and quirks as though they were potion ingredients, she smiled when she finally thought of something. Everything she knew about Harry since meeting him told her that he never thought of himself. He was someone who saved others with barely a thought to the consequences for his own well-being. That was irritating and went against everything she wanted for him, but the fact that there were actually two of him could help play to her advantage to get them both through this.

"I need your help."

Harry sat up straight, his pinched lips relaxing somewhat as his expression changed from guarded to concerned. "What is it?"

"I figured that, since he is technically your godfather as well, perhaps . . . that might be too much for Sirius to take on by himself." Lily gestured toward the sleeping baby behind him. "I'd very much like you to help protect Harry." She watched as her grown son turned around to look at the dozing younger version of himself.

When he looked back at her, Lily squeezed his hand. "I don't want him to end up with my sister. I would never want that. James and I have had this plan since before he was born. Sirius is his godfather, but in the case that something happens to him, Remus is next on the list. If the Ministry throws a goddamned fit about him being a werewolf, then I trust either Marlene and Hestia or even Frank and Alice Longbottom. Can you make sure that no one ignores our wishes?"

Harry looked down at their joined hands and put his free one on top of hers as though he were trying to bring her comfort. "What if—and I'm not saying it will happen, because we're going to make sure that there isn't ever a need for it—but what if all of those people are unavailable? What if there's no one left?"

Feeling sick at the thought of everyone she knew ending up a casualty in the war, Lily sucked in a breath. "Never my sister. Never," she said emphatically. "I don't care what anyone says, not even Albus Dumbledore. Harry, look at me."

His brow furrowed, but he kept his gaze on her as she spoke.

"I died for you." When he opened his mouth to object, looking so like a little boy in that moment, she shook her head and cut him off, "No. I died for you. And I know it wasn't a thing that I did in the heat of the moment. I've been planning on . . . I've been preparing. I know what I did that night. I'm your mother; I'm his mother." She gestured to the crib again before cupping Harry's face in her free hand. "I do not want to die knowing that he will have an unhappy childhood. So if there are no options left, I want you take him, and I want you run. I need you to make sure that he grows up happy. That is my wish above all other things. Do you understand me?"

The movements were small as Harry nodded his head, but his gaze was determined and gone was the look of discomfort he had previously been wearing. He no longer looked like an embarrassed child; he looked like his father: brave, protective, and resolute in his purpose.

"Thank you," Lily said as she leant forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead—right against the lightning-shaped scar.