AN: Sorry it took a while to update. Wrote this a while ago and forgot to put it up. Life's been a bit...weird, lately. So here it is.

Disclaimer: It all belongs to people infinitley more creative than I.


More often than not, life doesn't go according to plan. It just happens, and you've got to follow it. I didn't plan on being a witch. I didn't plan on going to Hogwarts, or becoming Head Girl, or fighting in a war, or getting married, or having a child before my 21st birthday. But it's all happening, and I can't stop it.

Dumbledore visited late last night, dripping from a typical April thunderstorm. He looked graver than usual, and I knew something was wrong. I gripped James' hand tightly before heading into the kitchen and busying myself with making a pot of tea. I could hear their voices rumbling incomprehensively in the adjoining room. I assumed they were talking about the numerous deaths that had been occurring with more frequency over the past few weeks. The Deatheaters have been killing with more accuracy and turning up unexpectedly at secret locations. It's clear to all of us what is going on – there's a traitor amongst us.

We're losing this war. Maybe I shouldn't say that, because you only lose when you give up hope, but it's true. Now we're turning on each other, suspicion in every look, accusation in every sentence.

Thinking that perhaps Dumbledore had discovered the double agent, I hurriedly prepared a tray and returned to the warm living room.

"Professor," I said, handing Dumbledore a cup. He accepted it with a gracious smile, which didn't quite reach his uncharacteristically sombre eyes. "Any more information on the Somerby murders?"

"Unfortunately not, my dear," he replied, blowing gently on his steaming tea. "However, as I was just saying to James, another situation has arisen. Please sit down."

I sat heavily besides James, and he quickly took my hand as we shared a nervous look before turning back to Dumbledore. Not another death, I thought. Please, not another death.

With a sigh, Dumbledore placed his cup on the coffee table, and pressed his fingers together gently. "You two must go into hiding."

"What? Why?"

"Something terrible occurred this evening." He cleared his throat, as if finding the words was difficult. "A prophecy has been made, about a boy who will defeat Lord Voldemort. A boy who will be born in July, to parents who have thrice defied the Dark Lord."

Instinctively, James laid a hand on my stomach. "You believe it to be our child, Dumbledore?"

"Not necessarily, but it is a possibility."

"But it's just a prophecy, Dumbledore," I pleaded. "What does it matter? You know better than I, that Divination is unreliable, at best."

"And besides," James said roughly, "If our son does defeat Voldemort, than surely that would be a good thing," he faltered. "Wouldn't it?"

Dumbledore looked for a second as if he was about to say something, but decided against it and merely sighed yet again. "None of this would even be worth discussing, if one of Voldemort's servants had not overheard us. I know for a fact that the Deatheater did not hear the prophecy in it's entirety, but he heard enough to interest Voldemort. He could be on his way right now. Which is why you must go into hiding."

"Hide?" James repeated. "But, Professor, what good will hiding do? Are we not fighting anymore? I can name no more than a handful of people left in the Order who have not hidden themselves or fled the country. Is this it?" he demanded angrily. "Is this your big plan? We simply stay hidden in our houses, burrowed away like timid animals until he finds and kills us all?"

I rested a hand gently on his arm, but he brushed me off, and got to his feet. Anger masked his face, but I could see the worry and fear underneath it. He was as scared as I was, for our lives, and the life of our child.

"James, see reason," Dumbledore said quietly. "You are one of Voledmort's most wanted as it is. You are responsible for more Deatheater arrests than half of the Ministry's aurors, and yet you are only just twenty. Lord Voldemort would give any excuse to kill you. Protect your son." He stood, and replaced his tall pointed hat. "I suggest the Fidelius charm. I could be your Secret Keeper -"

"No," interrupted James. "Sirius…"

"I strongly urge you to take my protection, James," Dumbledore said quietly.

James prickled. "If you are suggesting Sirius is a traitor, Dumbledore, than you are mistaken. I would trust him with my life. I would trust him with your life."

Dumbledore looked to me, but I shook my head. "Thank you for your offer, Professor, but Sirius would die rather than betray us."

He spread his hands in defeat, and led the way to the front door. Cupping my face with a wizened, old hand, he said, "Take care of yourself, Lily."

"I will, Professor."

"And, James, I have only your best interests at heart. We have not given up hope, and we will not stop fighting. Do not let a silly quarrel come between us."

"No, Professor," James murmured, gripping the old man's hand, before opening the door to the chilly night. "I will place enchantments around the house tonight, and get Sirius to perform the fidelius charm tomorrow."

Dumbledore bowed, and with a swish of his cloak, disappeared into the night.

"You think what we're doing is weak?" I asked quietly, helping James clear up the teacups.

He didn't meet my eyes, but his lips tightened. "I could still fight, Lils," he whispered. "We'll never win this war if we don't fight." He looked up. "We can win, I know we can." His voice was pleading, as if he didn't really believe it himself, but needed me to tell him he was speaking the truth.

"I'm not going to raise this child alone, James. I can't." Predictably, my eyes filled with tears. "I need you. Please."

"I don't hide," he whispered, sinking in to a kitchen chair, and burying his face in his hands.

"Then you'll be killed," I yelled, grabbing onto his shirt. "He wants us dead, James. There's nothing we can do anymore. Nothing."

He stood up, his eyes filled with unshed tears also, and wrapped me tightly in his arms.

"There's nothing more we can do," I mumbled into his chest. "Just say you won't leave me. Let the others fight. Don't kill yourself."

"We'll be okay, Lils. As long as we're together, we'll be okay."

I can't help thinking it's not that simple. Voldemort wants us dead. That's the truth, and no, maybe it wasn't part of the plan. But Dumbledore's right – we've done enough. James and I are already on Voldemort's top ten most wanted, and this isn't going to improve matters. I don't know what we're going to do, to be honest. I don't know how long we can stay here, waiting to be found. We're just going to have to try and keep living as normally as possible. Keep loving. As naïve as it may be, I really think love will prevail.


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