Author's Note

Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors. I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!

I've never heard of this pairing, but the idea came to me in a dream last night, and I had to at least jot down the beginning. If there's enough interest, I'll continue the story. If not, it'll be a one-shot.

PS I'm not JK Rowling, so I don't own anything :(

Ch 1: Into the Past

The blast shoved Lily out of the second story window of her Uncle George's joke shop. She tumbled in a free fall, her dark grey robes whipping out around her, shredded and torn by the jagged edges of shattered glass she'd flown through until they waved in the wind like dancing ribbons. There was no time to feel pain though she knew a number of the razor splinters had embedded themselves in her back, arms and legs.

"Oof!" The muffled groan came from beneath her.

A particularly painful shard of glass sunk deeper into her shoulder as the figure that'd broken her fall shoved roughly at her, trying to get her off, and forcing a pained whimper from her throat, "Mmgh."

Lily rolled, rising to her knees to face the person, ready to apologize or ask for help - she wasn't precisely sure which. Her uncle was going to have her head, assuming her mother didn't first. At least her dad would see to her injuries before he started lecturing her about not messing with unknown magic. Her mum would just yell at her the entire time she bandaged her up.

She really shouldn't have taken the dare to show off her potion skills by tweaking her uncle's latest creation. It just made her so angry when her cousin, Roxy, taunted her like that! Saying she wasn't brave enough to be a Gryffindor just because she never bent or broke the rules. If Roxy's mum had Ginevra Potter's temper, or if her dad was the famous Harry Potter, she'd be just a bit more reluctant to draw attention to herself too.

"Shove off, Weasley!" sneered the male she'd landed atop of. He came into focus slowly, brushing off his robes and he staggered to his feet, towering over her. Too slowly. She shook her head, clearing the morning fog filling her brain and slowing her muddled thoughts.

"Potter. I'm Lily, not Rose," she muttered, annoyed to be mistaken for her ever so popular cousin. Maybe Roxy really was right. She'd done a bit too good of a job keeping her head down during her time at Hogwarts.

Lily hated when she was mistaken for her cousin. It wasn't like they were all interchangeable - despite their vast numbers. Yet it happened all too often. Though better Rose than Lucy, Percy's daughter who was in the same year as Lily. At least Rose was intelligent, though she had wild carroty-orange hair and her father's oversized nose. Neither of which stopped her from receiving her Head Girl badge in the post last week. Or stopped her from bragging about it nonstop ever since she got it.

Lily honestly didn't think she looked anything at all like the Weasley side of her family. Most people agreed that she looked just like her grandmother, whom she was named after, with her darker red hair, mimicking the heart of a ruby, and lack of freckles on her porcelain skin. Only her light brown eyes came from Ginny, and even those had freckles of deepest emerald green scattered within their depths.

"What?" he demanded, puffing out his chest and planting his balled fists on his hips. She supposed he was trying to appear intimidating, but her fragmented thoughts were too preoccupied to fully appreciate the effort.

She blinked, taking in his pale, nearly white-blond hair and piercing grey eyes. His eyes. They were crystalized wisps of smoke. His skin was stretched so tightly over his high cheekbones, that they appeared more blades ready to slice through the thin surface. Stress and worries far beyond his years showed in the purplish bags discoloring the skin beneath his striking eyes.

The boy looked about her age, possibly a year or two older. He reminded her strongly of her brother, Al's, best mate -

No. No, that wasn't right. This boy looked nothing like Rose. Why had the thought ever occurred to her that he looked like Al's mate? Al and Rose had been joined at the hip since starting at Hogwarts, despite being in separate houses.

How strange…

Strange? The word struck her. Yes. It was fitting.

Flickering her eyes about in a rapid scan, the word seemed to sum up her surroundings. The streets were packed with people, most of whom barely spared them a glance they were in such a hurry. No one offered her help or seemed to want to be a part of whatever was happening between her and the boy. Everyone passing kept going, deliberately looking away as if the sight of an injured girl wasn't worth acknowledging. More, they were going out of their way to ignore it.

No. She must be disoriented. That couldn't be what was happening. Lily took in her surroundings more closely.

Something thick and oppressive filled the air. Smothering. Like wading through molasses. Lily gasped, truly shocked that no one had come forward to investigate or help. Parents were too busy clutching their children close, almost in a rush to leave, skirting around them or even crossing the street to avoid them.

The shops were darker too. A few even had boarded up windows. Purple posters filled from top to bottom with neat script were plastered every few feet. And massive posters of Death Eaters had replaced the typical colorful displays. Bellatrix Lestrange stared at her from across the street. The witch's fingers were tangled in her gnarled, matted hair as she silently shreeked, her expression completely demented.

And Ollivander's was completely dark. How were the upcoming first years supposed to get their wands? He was the only wandmaker in Britain! It wasn't like he willingly took a holiday during his busiest time of the year.

It was Diagon Alley - but not as she'd ever seen it before. Not once had she ever been to Diagon Alley and seen the shop closed. Or any shop closed for that matter.

The only time she'd ever even heard of that happening were in the stories of the war. The stories her family and their friends told when they visited Hogwarts as guest speakers. When they regaled masses of riveted students with the horrors that were never ever spoken about at home or any other time.

"I asked you a question. Did your clumsiness knock all of your wits out? Assuming you had any to begin with, of course," the boy prodded sharply. The words might have been meant as a barb, but when she glanced up, all she saw was uncertainty mirrored back at her.

"Sorry," Lily began, flushing against the mocking jab. The warmth infusing her cheeks made speaking difficult, so she cleared her throat and said, "I'm a Potter - not a Weasley. Well, I guess technically I am through my mum, but -"

"What do you mean you're a Potter?" another voice demanded. Lily jerked around, falling back as three figures appeared out of thin air.

She saw the tallest first. It was her Uncle Ron, only different. He was thin and gangly, all arms and legs and freckles everywhere. Appearing so very young too. Much, much too young. And without the gut he'd recently been working on expanding with his constant sweet intake. He was glaring at her distrustfully, suspicion clear in his scowl. It was the same expression Rose wore when confronting misbehaving first years. He shifted suddenly, though not at all subtly, to put himself in front of a girl.

Her uncle's deliberate movement refocused Lily's attention on the girl he was attempting to shield. It was Aunt Hermione. In all her frizzy-haired glory, and just as young as her uncle. Lily usually only saw her looking like that at home. Normally, when she was out, she'd take the time to smooth the unruly strands and look more professional. Especially now that she was up for the Minister of Magic position. She was wringing her hands, her head whipping back and forth between Lily and Harry. Lily watched as her aunt's lips parted, understanding far more than Lily was able to comprehend in that moment.

Neither of them should have been there. Uncle Ron was managing the joke shop in Hogsmeade, so while it wasn't unheard of for him to visit the sister shop during the work day, it also wasn't all that common. Aunt Hermione, however, should have been at the ministry. She never took time off, or ventured away from her office during the day - especially not to go shopping. Nor should they have looked anything like what Lily was currently looking at.

After another second, she drug her eyes away to take in the third member of their trio. The final figure was nearly as familiar to her as her own reflection. The one and only Harry Potter. How peculiar that she didn't mistake him for Al. They were so similar in coloring, yet Al had never had that scarecrow, starved look about him. Nor did he wear glasses. Her brother had also never been so quick to whip out a wand and point it dangerously at a stranger the way her father was currently pointing his at her. And only her father had the trademark lightning bolt scar blazing across his forehead.

The whole scene was all wrong, and she couldn't for the life of her make sense of it. Because if Aunt Hermione wasn't supposed to be there, her father sure as hell wasn't either.

Merlin's balls, what had she gotten herself into?

"Dad?" Lily whispered, her jaw falling open as she returned to staring at the teenaged version of her father after a brief glance at the other two people beside him.

He was as young as her. It was all wrong. Black spots danced in her vision. The contents of her head shifted, making room for a rush of air that filled it, lightening it until it threatened to float away. Everything about this moment was wrong, and the glass in her back was really starting to hurt!

"Ow," she hissed, slumping forward and just barely catching herself from face planting on the sidewalk. That would have been mortifying.

"Harry! She's hurt. We have to get her inside - now," Hermione hissed fearfully, reacting first as usual.

"Aunt Hermione? What… " Lily began, but her aunt hushed her, rushing over.

"Shh! Don't say another word," she hastily breathed by her ear, the words running together as she hurriedly spoke. Hermione quickly unclasped the fastening at her throat and swirled her cloak off and around Lily, jerking the hood up to cover her brilliant scarlet hair.

"Ron, get your dad. Quickly," Hermione ordered. The clipped command left no room for argument, and her Uncle Ron took off immediately to obey, much as Lily had seen him do countless times over the years.

"Is this a trick?" Harry whispered thickly. There was so much longing in the question that Lily's heart went out to her father. He'd always said family was the one thing he treasured most. Seeing him now, in this moment, there could be no doubt in the sincerity of that claim.

"I don't think so, Harry," Hermione murmured, hesitantly reaching out to him. Her hand hovered in the distance separating them, but Harry seemed to feel it regardless as he lowered his wand.

Worry crumpled his face, as he too looked around, pausing when he recognized the other person in their little group. Disgust and hatred morphed his face into an expression Lily had never seen her father wear before. She swallowed nervously, understanding why people were usually a little afraid of the legendary Harry Potter. His wrath was nearly tangible just then.

"Malfoy, please, please - I know you hate us, but please keep this to yourself," Hermione begged, boldly staring him down.

Malfoy… Draco. Lily blinked as she recognized the name. This was Draco Malfoy. He'd worked with her father a number of times over the years. They weren't exactly friends, but her dad trusted him. She knew that much, at least. So why the animosity now?

Her aunt's panic began to register too. The way she was attempting to hide Lily from view of the passersby. Her aunt had always been the most clever in the family. Danger. Lily was in danger right now.

It was beginning to dawn on Lily just how buggered she was. Her family's youthful appearances. The fearful atmosphere of the typically merrily, bustling wizarding shopping district. Things were a lot worse for her than she'd immediately known.

"Like I'd ever do anything for the likes of -"

"Draco?" Lily whispered, gently reaching up to touch his hand. A spark shot through her at the contact.

"What?" he murmured, surprise filling his face as he looked back to her. Confusion replaced the surprise, though he attempted to mask it. It was a fairly passable job too, but she detected the cracks in his careful facade.

"I know you're a decent person. Please," Lily requested.

They stared at one another, some unspoken, foreign communication seeming to pass between them that she couldn't comprehend. Draco's mouth opened, but before he could speak, her uncle was back with her grandpa in tow, and Hermione was dragging her up.

"Run along, Malfoy," Mr Weasley ordered sternly, the surprisingly brusk command leaving no room for argument.

Then they were all hurrying inside the joke shop with Lily whimpering anytime someone accidentally bumped the glass embedded in her skin or a particular movement jarred one of her numerous injuries.

Lily glanced back over her shoulder once to find Draco still watching her, his blond brows pulled together, obviously perplexed. When a stranger bumped his shoulder, he blinked before turning and hurrying away, disappearing into the crowd.