Disclaimer: If I were really JKR, do you think I would be putting up with my boss?
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Lily looked down at her sleeping son, letting his slow, even breaths sooth her nerves. Despite a pleasant Sabbat and the consension to the even about to take place downstairs. Her hands wrapped around the top of the sidebar of Harry's cot. Was it too late to call it off? They could move back into the Manor and hid behind the estate's ancient wards. Let the world take care of itself. Her knuckles turned white from her grip as she heard the words she told James in school come back to her. 'All it takes for evil to triumph is a good man to do nothing.' No, no hiding then. At least not completely.
"A sickle for your thoughts?"
Lily gasped and spun, her wand practically apparating into her hand. A colorless beam shot from its tip before she could recognize the now dodging form of her husband. James wasn't quite fast enough to escape and she managed to clip his ear. The Marauder took it in good stride, laughing as he twirled his wand in a complicated healing charm followed by a mild cleaning charm—the same one they used on Harry, she noted absently as she lowered her wand, an apology falling from her lips which James waved off as he took a seat in the rocking chair.
"Just tell me what has you so wound up, dearest," he replied. He leaned forward, laying his forearms on his knees. His hazel eyes were solemn and held none of their usual laughter at the world. Lily turned away unable to stand the reminder. Her green eyes focused once more on Harry's back.
"Sometimes, I just want to hide away safe and sound—to retreat from England completely. Shouldn't my family be my first priority? What should I care about the world? Voldemort is England's problem. America wouldn't have this problem—or Australia—can you imagine Voldemort in Sydney? But then…"
"But then you remember what you told me in seventh year."
"Well, yes," she confessed. Lily raised her eyes to meet his again. "Is it wrong to be afraid, James? To worry about not seeing Harry graduate from Hogwarts because I just had to do the right thing? What if doing so causes pain? Does that still make it right?"
"What kind of world do you want Harry to grow in, Lily?"
The question was calm and not at all accusing, but each word stabbed at her conscious like knives. It echoed what she was trying to convince herself of all this time. It reminded her of what was important. What kind of world did she want Harry to grow up in? A world where evil triumphed because she did not have the will to stand up and fight back? Or a world of peace without the shroud of a Dark Lord?
"Darkness is necessary, James—for how can we appreciate the light without the shadows?" Lily held up her hand to forestall the protest she could see building on his tongue. She took a deep breath that shuddered a bit, but centered her nonetheless. "But there doesn't need to be a Dark Lord. 'All it takes for evil to triumph is a good man to do nothing.' And if a good man…or woman does nothing, they are no longer a good person. I think…that the world I want Harry to grow up in is one where he can be proud of his parents. He will find us, you are aware of that, aren't you? Voldemort will find us."
"We can try to avoid him as much as possible—"
"It won't be enough, James. Nothing we'll do will be enough." Lily took another shuddering breath, trying to stave off the tears she felt gathering in her eyes. She wrapped her arms about herself. She couldn't let despair take her—she couldn't; not if she wanted to be the kind of mother that Harry needed her to be. She barely managed to choke back a sob. She didn't notice James rising from the rocker and crossing to her and the crib. She spoke her greatest fear against his shirt while wrapped tightly in his arms. "He'll go to Petunia—Petunia, who hates everything about me. What kind of life would that be, James? What kind of life would he have?"
"We just have to keep Sirius out of danger. He'll make sure that doesn't happen," James assured her. He seemed so certain that she let herself believe him. Wasn't that the reason that they were going along with Sirius' crazy idea of having Peter as the Secret Keeper in the first place, despite initial misgivings? James repeated himself as if he was trying to convince someone of its truth. "He'll make sure that Harry is protected if something happens to us."
"Oh, James…I hope you are right."
'Blessed Mother, may he be right.'
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November slipped by uneventfully. Hermione and Harry spoke of many things, but one topic was noticeably left out: Ron's continued absence. Harry continued to study the Black grimoire and the books from the attic, in between "homework" from Hermione. Cautiously, he began to test out certain finds while Hermione was asleep, finding out what felt right and what did the most damage. Hermione was pouring over the little grimoire found amongst the books, looking up things in the rune books amongst the attic books. Harry caught her occasionally giving him odd looks, but he didn't question her.
Finally, the walls started to seem more imprisoning than sheltering and Harry had more than enough of playing it safe. He needed out, even if it were only for an afternoon. He went in search of his companion, finding her in the library staring at a thick tome about blood wards as if shocked at what she found.
"Fish and chips," Harry announced. Hermione looked at him as if she was seeing him for the first time. Emerald eyes met toffee and Harry's focus changed instantly. "What's wrong?"
"I know how you survived," Hermione whispered quietly. Her eyes shone, but Harry couldn't tell if it were tears or intellectual delight. She continued in a low, furiously-paced whisper. "She figured out how to do the impossible—she must have. I don't know how she got the power for the array—no…I know how. She did it in ritual space and called upon the Goddess. That would certainly lend the power needed. We both felt that. Oh, Harry, I think I know when she did it as well. You must not have gotten a hold of Sirius' wand. It had to be a ritual that drained more than she had planned… Don't you see, Harry? It had to be a secret from everyone. No one could have known; she couldn't risk it getting out."
"Hermione, slow down," Harry interrupted, uncomfortable at the thoughts that were spilling out of his best mate's lips. "What are you talking about?"
"The array on your back!"
Hermione had mentioned it before, the strange tattoo that covered his back that was revealed after the cleansing charm. Harry had brushed it off, to be perfectly honest. It wasn't that important to him currently. There would be time later to study it, time after Voldemort was defeated, after—just after, if there was an after. Hermione, obviously, hadn't agreed with him and had continued her research. He should have guessed from all the rune books.
"Alright," Harry declared, trying to refocus on what had caused him to search her out in the first place. "We can discuss it over fish and chips."
"Kreacher can make that?"
"I was thinking of actually going out," Harry said with an eye roll. Hermione bit her bottom lip and wrinkled her nose, her 'thinking' expression. He allowed her the time she needed to weigh the pros and cons of acquiescence to his idea. He had seen her staring out the window a few times when she had thought that she was alone. Four months in the same building was a bit much for anyone to take, even if they understood the necessity of it. Harry was confident that Hermione would agree to his proposal. Any protest that she'd offer, he was certain he could counter effectively.
"The guard out front?"
"Invisibility cloak, dear Granger." Harry didn't point out that without Ron, the two of them could fit easily without being seen. By the way her bottom lip trembled though, he knew that she had thought of it herself.
"Okay," she agreed, "just let me get my coat and gloves."
Fish and chips turned into an afternoon of shopping in the muggle world—well, what shopping they could do without going to Gringotts and getting some of Harry's money converted. He learned that Hermione had a trust fund as well, from her great grandmother on her father's side. She couldn't access all of it until she was twenty-five, but the allowance from it was enough to keep her going for a while. They also learned that candles literally came in all shades, shapes, and scents when they visited a shop whose address was written in the little grimoire that Hermione was studying. Finally, Harry gave up trying to understand it all and let Hermione figure out what she wanted while he chatted with the shopkeeper about the various crystals on display.
"So she said it is a good starter stone and helps focus magic," Harry was explaining to Hermione as they left the store. He held the clear quartz up to let the weak December sun shine through it. Hermione was tucking her bag into her purse, but Harry saw her indulgent smile before she looked back up at him, a serious expression on her face.
"It does and should help with our next project," Hermione replied. Harry cocked his head to side as they walked through the nearby park. Grimmauld Place was on the other side and down a block. They'd have to get under the cloak soon, but not quite yet. Snow had begun to fall while they were shopping and was now covering the landscape in a soft dusting. The water crystals looked like glitter in Hermione's curly hair. Harry wished that he knew how to tell her that she looked very pretty like that.
"Okay, I'll bite," Harry said instead and giving himself a mental shake. "What's our next project?"
"Well, remember how I said the array offered an anchor to your mother's protection? There's a couple of rune phrases that would suggest that that it can be used offensively—consciously, Harry, not incidentally like what you did with Professor Quirrell."
"So…you're saying that I could point," he said and gestured with the hand holding the crystal point, "and blast something?"
"Well," Hermione huffed as if the paraphrasing offended her (which when he thought about it, it just might), "I wouldn't use those words, but essentially, yes. You should be able to blast something."
"That could be useful—Resolves the whole wand issue kind of neatly, don't you think?"
"We still don't know how reliable it's going to be," Hermione reminded him. Harry nodded and pointed the little rock at a nearby bench. He scrunched up his face in concentration, trying to force his magic through the quartz like he would his wand. After a few minutes in which all he achieved was a headache behind his eyes, he glanced at Hermione with a skeptical expression. She gave him an encouraging smile and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know how to access it, Harry."
"If I'm going to fight Voldemort with it, I think I'm going to need a lot of practice," Harry replied. He didn't get a chance to say anything else as the tell-tale cracks of multiple people apparating filled the air. Harry barely had time to pull Hermione out of the way of a red bolt. He managed to return fire with a volley of stunners while Hermione cast a shield to cover both of them.
'Six of them,' Harry counted in between spell volleys. Harry was careful to stick close to Hermione. These were not good odds, despite what little training that they had and all the studying they've done over the last few months. Somehow, that little point stayed in his off hand as he wove hexes and some of the lighter curses he had found among his studies with his wand hand. Hermione kept her shield up while she used jinxes and charms in ways that Harry was fairly certain was not their intended use. The heavy scent of magic filled the air, snuffing out the wintery smell of snow, as the group continued their battle.
All too soon, the two Gryffindors found themselves back to back, surrounded. Hermione brought up a more complicated shield that arched over them like an upside-down fishbowl. Harry could hear her panting from the strain of keeping it up as she returned fire on her half of Death Eaters. Harry's worry grew as he sensed her tiring. It couldn't end here; it just couldn't.
Desperation filled him as magic began to gather just below his skin. Later, much later, he would describe the feeling as his magic preparing to burst from him. For now, he couldn't spare a thought to explain the swelling he felt. His vision went bleary, as if he had lost his glasses. He felt unfamiliar words on his tongue, begging to be said. There came a presence just outside of his awareness, familiar yet not, and Harry felt the magic tingle through the air like lightning.
Then the bleariness became blackness streaked with peridot veins. He could hear screams of pain and his own voice, speaking the words that made no sense but felt right all the same. He could feel Hermione's back pressed against his, an anchor in the fearful confusion of the moment. And the magic—oh, the magic. It was a beautiful feeling as the power arched through him like electricity in one of those plasma globes that his science teacher brought in one time when they were studying the phases of matter. He was strong and he was mighty. Nothing could beat him. He was invincible.
"Harry," he heard distantly after an eternity in that paradise of power. Hands touched his face and the blackness began to fade a bit, revealing Hermione's pale face. "Come on, Harry, focus."
"Her-Hermione," he breathed shuddering as the magic ebbed, draining away in little spurts that made him shake. Hermione gave a relieved breath and, closing her eyes briefly, rested her forehead against his. Feeling a bit dim, he realized the hands cradling his face must belong to her. Then the smell hit him. It smelled like the time that his Aunt Petunia had forgotten about a roast in the oven, only far worse. He gagged and ripped himself away from Hermione just in time to avoid being sick on her. He couldn't bring himself to look at the burnt bodies that surrounded them. "What," he gasped, "happened?"
"Let's get safe first," Hermione reasoned, taking a hold of him. The squeeze of apparition made him sick again, but he had nothing to bring up and thus was left dry heaving on the front steps of Grimmauld Place, just inside the Fidelius' protection. The front door opened and Kreacher's large eyes peered out through the crack.
"Master Harry needs mint tea," the house elf announced before popping away, presumably to fulfill the self-given order. Harry gave a sarcastic chuckle and looked at the, if possible, even whiter Hermione.
"Somehow, I think it might get better with practice," Harry announced grimly. Hermione was now so pale that she looked like she might give Myrtle a run for her money. The know-it-all gave a mute nod in response. "I don't think the crystal would change anything though."
Hermione gave a short snicker as if she was trying not to laugh. Then she took a deep breath that changed into another snicker. Soon, they were both laughing hysterically. If anyone could have seen them, they would have looked like loons.
But they were alive and that was what mattered.
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Author's Note: Sorry that it took so long to get this chapter out. Several things happened in quick succession of each other. I started a course on the Sacred Wheel (I'm Native American, if you couldn't guess from the name). Then I had a friend move in with me. Then my familiar died unexpectedly, which has really affected the entire household, particularly my daughters, but also my husband—who is the closest thing I have to a beta as he proofs my chapters and listens to me as I babble about them. Then my car got a hole in the gas tank. Then there was mandatory overtime at work.
I've actually had the chapter written for a couple of weeks, but couldn't find the time to type it up and catch Alex in a mood to read it over for me. Anyroad, the next chapter is already written as well and I've got the Lily half typed up already. I'm not fond of what I've got for the Harry half, though, so I might end up scraping it and rewriting it wholemeal…which apparently isn't a word…and according to dictionary dot com means "whole wheat" and is a British slang? Oh, well, I'd have to ask Granny when I see her next where she picked up from.