After their wedding, Lily and James went on what was far less a full month of enjoying one another and their new marriage, and was more of a weekend spent in a small, cozy space. James kept the fire built the entire time; by the time their three days on Inchdraoidb was done, Lily thought that fire might have seeped into her very bones, setting her to glowing from the inside out. She still felt it the day they returned, as they were good-naturedly responding to the summons to Potter Gardens.

"We'll take a longer honeymoon," James promised, "maybe this summer…"

"I am perfectly… satisfied with the one we had," murmured Lily, heat rising up in her cheeks. "But I suppose I did make you stay in bed most of the time. If you want a proper trip to do some proper sightseeing–"

James growled and pulled her into his arms. "I did plenty of sightseeing," he said, bringing his hand up to cup her breast. "I just meant we had to come back so soon."

"Far too soon," said Lily, arching her back. "Perhaps this summer…"

James's fingers squeezed gently, his thumb pressing against her nipple like a small hello, before his hand dropped down to link with hers. "Any time," he said, voice dropping to a deeper register. "But now we should…"

"Yeah," Lily sighed.

Fleamont and Euphemia were waiting for them beside a fountain, seated, both of them with nervous looks on their faces. They weren't alone: Gideon and Fabian Prewett were there, grinning.

"They've done something," James whispered, amused.

"We've done something!" Euphemia called, just a heartbeat behind her son.

Lily laughed.

"Come here, and we'll tell you," Fleamont advised.

James conjured chairs for both of them, and they settled down. Lily was curious now. Both her in-laws looked mildly apprehensive, but the Prewett brothers were excited. It was fortunate that Fleamont did not make her wait long.

"We're building you two a house on this property," he said briskly. He held up his hand. "Now, I know you two would've wanted to choose one on your own, and normally we never would have taken it upon ourselves to do it–"

"-we also did want to surprise you," murmured Euphemia.

"Yes, and that," agreed Fleamont. He took a deep breath. "When we nearly died from the pox, we thought everything was in order. James… the moment you were born, we altered our will, and of course, you will inherit everything. That is what we want to do. Should that day come, we want you to be able to do what you want with Potter Gardens and the company."

James was looking from one to the other, confusion written on his features as clearly as though inked on by a quill. "Of course," he said. "Potter Gardens is home."

"And yet," Fleamont said, anger under his words, "if we had died last spring, that choice would have been taken from you."

"What?" Lily asked, leaning forward. "What do you mean?"

"The Ministry wrote a new law regarding inheritance," said Fleamont. "They sneaked it in with the solstice vote. Hardly anyone had even heard of it, considering people were still scared of the basilisk pox in June."

"Conveniently, while everyone was either ill or terrified of getting ill," Euphemia said bitterly.

"Too conveniently," muttered Fabian.

"Come now," Gideon said indulgently.

"What does it have to do with us?" Lily asked, confused. Then, like a bolt of lightning, it struck her. "It's something to do with me, isn't it." Her voice was flat. "Because I'm Muggleborn."

"Yes," Euphemia said gently.

James blew out a low breath.

"They're trying to make it more difficult for Muggleborns to own property," Fleamont said. "The law disallows Muggleborns from inheriting a property outright—"

"But it wouldn't have been Lily inheriting, not just her, I mean," said James, bewildered. "I'm just about as pureblood as they come."

"Well, they've added in another bit to the law that makes it impossible for a pureblood to inherit if they've recently wed a Muggleborn," replied Euphemia, lip curling. "It's based on the unfounded suspicion that Muggleborns are likely to charm, curse, and potion their way into a marriage with a pureblood, as though it's unlikely for such a couple to have simply fallen in love. It's 'for the protection of the pureblood estate'. The couple must be wed for a period of two years before they can lawfully inherit." She drew in a breath. "And they must live on the estate to be inherited, to prove that the parents or benefactor approves of the relationship."

Lily could feel high heat in her cheeks. A quiet filled the garden.

It was James who broke it. "It's so unfair," he said. The words might have been childish, but it was a man who spoke them, cold anger filling the syllables. "They're making it impossible for Muggleborns to ever fit. First, they can't work like the rest of us, now they can't even marry and inherit like the rest of us?"

"It's evil," agreed Euphemia.

Gideon grimaced a little — Lily wondered if he still doubted that it was done on purpose. She couldn't see how it could not be purposeful.

"But we are going to take care of all of that," said Fleamont. "We'll take whatever the Ministry throws at us… we'll have that house built on our property, we'll jump through all of their flaming hoops. I'm not letting everything Euphemia and I have built be given over to the Ministry. Not this Ministry. Not any Ministry."

"I know someone who can help with that." Fabian's face was alight with helpful enthusiasm. "You know my sister, Molly? Her husband does a bit of building work, restoring old properties, resetting preservation spells—"

"Does he build from the ground up?" Euphemia asked, leaning forward.

"Well…" Fabian hesitated. "I'm not sure, actually."

"I don't think he does," Gideon put in. "For all his enthusiasm."

"What's that mean?" Fabian asked.

"Nothing," said Gideon, startled, holding his hands up. "Just that he just got written up at the Ministry for those flyers—"

"That's just because the Ministry already doesn't like him—"

"—which is why he should keep his head down, they've got, what, seventeen children already—"

Lily looked from one brother to the other; both smiling, but there was an undercurrent of seriousness from both. Worry for family was rising within everyone she knew. The Prewetts worried over their sister's family, Fleamont and Euphemia worried over her and James, and even Peter Pettigrew had mentioned in his latest letter that he was leaving the "crowded" Diagon Alley to return home. That was just his excuse; Lily knew he wanted to keep an eye on his mother, who was all he had and who doted on him. Despite the warmth, and Nimue curled up in her lap, Lily felt a shiver run through her.

Thankfully, no one noticed.

"Well," Euphemia was saying, "we do need a builder of another sort, but after we're done with that project, surely we could see about some restoration of our own home."

"Whatever you like, love," said Fleamont.

"I know," Euphemia said, casting her husband a smug look.

Lily pet Nimue between the ears. The boneless, sleepy cat stretched a little, offering up a tiny purr, and settled again. In turn, Lily sagged further against James, resting her head on his shoulder, sighing. Truthfully, it would have been nice, once they were done with Hogwarts, finally, to set about finding a place of their own. Lily had half-dreamed of owning a little cottage in a place like Godric's Hollow, Holyhead, or even Puddlemere. All three places had strong connections to wizarding society, but they would have been comfortable places for her mother and sister to visit, with their Muggle cars and other ways of traveling. They could park on the Muggle side of town and heave over to wherever she and James were.

True, Potter Gardens wasn't far off from Godric's Hollow, but Lily could no more imagine her mother and sister walking through the woods than she could imagine them taking a jaunt on Old Bones's flying carpet. They couldn't even manage it when it was for Lily's own wedding, and that was when Fleamont had performed the charm that allowed the cars and carriages to park on his property in the first place.

"Lily," James murmured.

Snuggling closer, Lily set aside that dream. How often would Petunia and her mother have visited in the first place?. "I'm grateful," she said, looking at her parents-in-law. "It's, well, it's just safer, isn't it? There's safety in numbers. This is," she said firmly, "a wonderful idea."

"And that's just it," Euphemia said with great earnestness. "You'll have privacy, I promise. But there are enchantments on this place that are only allowed because they've been here for ages—"

"Centuries," Fleamont put in.

It seemed they'd sensed her brief moment of hesitation. Fondness welled up inside her, warming her. "Thank you," said Lily. "It makes a lot of sense—"

"Especially given the damned politics of it all," said James, running his hand through his hair.

"But for the sacriphant, we wouldn't have been able to do this much," said Fleamont, lips twisting. "Everything your mother and I have built could very easily have gone to the Ministry. Once you've lived here the full two years, you may go wherever you wish… you can now, of course, nothing is stopping you—"

"Except I don't want the Ministry taking away all these memories," said James. "It's not about the money, it's that it's my childhood. It's everything."

Lily rubbed his back.

"Still," joked Gideon, "if you two don't want it, I'll take it. Fleamont, you could name me heir. I'd live here for two years."

Everyone laughed at that.

"Just think," said Fabian, after a moment. "What if we hadn't had a sacriphant?"

"Dismal thought," Lily said quietly, taking James's hand.

"I wonder if…" Gideon faltered. "Nevermind. I just… wish we knew who he was."

Lily thought she saw, out of the corner of her eye, her parents-in-law exchange a fleeting look. A frisson of awareness went up her spine. They know. The realization clapped over her like thunder. Perhaps while they had been asleep, the Potters had figured it out… perhaps they had always known.

"We're not the only ones," said Fabian.

"What do you mean?" Euphemia asked.

"Well… just something Dumbledore said," said Fabian. "That the other side would want to know as well, and—"

"That's hardly magnificent guesswork," Gideon interrupted. "Everyone wants to know who it was. That's why they're kept secret in the first place."

"Whoever it was needs to be very careful," Fleamont agreed mildly.

"Speaking of Dumbledore, he's got a bit of an errand for us," said Fabian, rising and stretching. "I know Molly's husband has got cards… I'll send them along…"

They said their goodbyes to the Prewett brothers, waving them off, watching them walk through the gate, turn on one spot, and disappear. Lily settled in her seat, enjoying the rumble of Nimue's purr against her legs, and the feel of James all along her side. Curiosity nipped at her, but she ignored it.

LPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLP

Hand in hand, Lily and James walked through the Potters' family business. Perhaps Lily was used to attending to potions in the dungeons, where all light came from torches and lamps, but it struck her anew how bright everything was. And not, thought Lily, just the future. A giddy sort of happiness filled her as they wandered the spacious hall, and she couldn't help but smile over at her handsome new husband whenever the urge struck, which was several times a minute. Their footsteps echoed against the tile floor, the air was thick with the aroma of brewing potions, and Lily could not wait to at last finish her NEWTs and come here, to work.

Breathing in deep, she smelled lacewing flies and juniper berries, shrivelfigs and eyes of newt. "I love the way it smells here," she said, happily.

James chuckled. "You and my dad."

"I'm really going to love it here," said Lily, watching as three witches across the way sat beside a bubbling cauldron, giggling, and giving it a clockwise stir every thirty seconds. Despite the tension of He Who Must Not Be Named and the strangle-hold he had on society, most people were happy here.

"Are you sure?" James asked, affecting surprise. "I thought you didn't much like potions…"

Lily squeezed his fingers, laughing, pivoting toward him and pulling him closer. "You tease," she said, reaching up to ruffle his hair. It was hard to believe that after six months of enchanted sleep, several months of intense studying, and a wedding, they only had two more months before the rest of their lives truly began. They would take their NEWTs in mid-March, and then… they were free to move into the lovely house in Potter Gardens.

James kissed her lightly on the lips, neither of them caring overly much that they were at the company. Melting against him, Lily sighed against his lips.

"Oh, James Potter, there you are."

The wheezy voice was hardly familiar at all, so Lily was astonished to find, when she turned, that it was Old Bones who stood there, five feet away from them, much stooped and sunken in. In the mere two weeks since their wedding, he had seemed to age twenty years.

After a shared look of astonished concern, James said: "Old Bones! What – er – come, let's find you a seat, and I'll get you some water." Letting go of her hand, he hurried toward the old professor.

Really, it was baffling how much he had changed in the course of days. Lily trailed after them – James was nearly carrying Old Bones – eyes wide. It was she who conjured the glass of water while James settled Old Bones into a rather plush chair in an empty office.

"Old Bones…" James's voice cracked. "What – what is it?"

Lily's heart ached for her husband. While she had never taken Divination, he'd taken it from third year, and was very close with him. Aside from Professor McGonagall, Old Bones was James's favorite professor – he'd never forgotten that Old Bones had nudged them toward figuring out where some of the secret passages were, and he mentioned it often. "He's just cool, you know," he'd say; Sirius and Peter would immediately agree. But this transformation was astonishing.

"My dear boy," wheezed Old Bones, an uncharacteristically somber look on his aged face, "I have… I have… well, I have Spectris."

Lily gasped, clapping her hand over her mouth, and sank into another chair.

"Oh no," James said, "No, Old Bones – you can't!"

"I'm afraid," Old Bones said heavily, "My age has caught up with me at last. I – I don't have much time left. I have Seen it."

Spectral syndrome, or Spectris, was an uncommon and brutal illness that attacked mainly the elderly, though it had been known to attack the middle-aged as well. Entire organs would be eaten away by a mysterious force within the body that even the most advanced of Healers could not detect. Tears stung at the backs of Lily's eyes. At least with the pox, people had a chance. There were ways to fight Old Bones's syndrome, but all solutions were temporary.

"Damn," James swore. "Old Bones…"

"Is there anything we can do?" Lily asked softly.

"Yeah, anything," James offered.

Old Bones gave him a fond smile. "I have a… friend… who has volunteered to help me already," he said. "But it means much to know that you would help too. I am determined to finish this school year." His eyes misted over. "There are… ah. There are things I have Seen that I wish I could be there for, not least what I've seen in your future. But I fear that even with my friend's help, I may not be able to."

"You will," said Lily. The sunken eyes of the old professor were lit with determination. "Sir, you will."

"How is your friend helping you?" asked James. "Is it anything we can do–"

His liver-spotted hand waved. "He is helping me by donating blood and bits of tissue," he said with great dignity. "In fact… it's why I'm here. There is something you can do for me, James. I did come to beg a favor…"

"Just ask," said James.

"There are certain… instruments that would make this sharing of blood and tissue easier," said Old Bones, sinking back into the seat. "Of course, only licensed Healers can buy them – there's far too much potential for darkness." His hair was wispy, and sticking up in all places. Bright tears shone in his eyes. "But St. Mungo's will not let my friend help me… for no good reason… they just make excuse after excuse… It's like they want me to–"

He cut himself off, stuffing his fist into his mouth.

"Oh, I know St. Mungo's," Lily said grimly. "I'd be lucky if they let me in the door at all."

Old Bones shook his head, tears spilling out and dripping down his wizened cheeks.

"You're talking about a Tiberian Transferimento?" James asked, uncertain, giving her a fleeting look.

Lily's eyebrows winged upward. The ancient Roman wizards and witches had perfect a method of transferring blood and other parts of the body from one person to another in order to forestall death. It had been one of the main reasons why the Mediterranean magical society had eventually gone to war and caused the Fall of Rome: healthy young people were serving as organ farms for the powerful. Now, the practice was highly regulated: Old Bones might be fined ten thousand galleons for having possession of a Tiberius Transfer.

"He needs it, James," she said quietly, brushing her foot against his. "You know what they're like there. You know what they're like anywhere, really."

James blew out a breath. "Yeah," he said. "I know we have one or two… let me…" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Let me figure it out, okay?"

Old Bones's eyes fluttered closed and he let out a long sigh. "You have a kind heart."

His cheeks were sunken and a waxy yellow. Lily wondered if the disease was attacking his liver at the moment. What a terrible thing to have happened to such a beloved professor. By all accounts, the disease was as painful as the pox.

As though her thoughts had leapt straight to Old Bones, he murmured, "If only there was a sacriphant for this illness. Then I might have a fighting chance. But it's – it's not that sort of illness, I suppose."

"No, it wouldn't be," said James. "Again, Old Bones…" He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "I wish there was a sacriphant for you as there was for my parents. And everyone else in our world."

"Indeed," said Old Bones. "I suppose the fellow will be busy…" He gave his head a shake. "I wish they wouldn't insist on such secrecy, you know."

"I s'ppose it's dangerous," suggested James.

"Someone very dear to me… well, let's just say that someone very dear to me would like to thank them, whoever they are." Old Bones shrugged, seeming to rally. "But I suppose you're right…" He looked about the room. "The cure initially came from here. It'll have to do to just thank your father, wouldn't it?"

Lily shared another glance with James, this one of warm sympathy for the dying man in front of them. Old Bones's thoughts had wandered from his own private misery to the one so recently shared by so many of the wizarding world.

"And maybe he can pass on our thanks," said Old Bones.

"I don't think he knows who it is," said James. "If he does, he hasn't told me. The Ministry keeps that information quiet, I reckon."

"Ah, perhaps it's wise of them," sighed Old Bones. Then, offering them a trembling smile, he said, "Well, don't listen to me. My words have been going on walkabouts these days… I just wish…"

"We don't mind," Lily assured him.

"Help me up, would you?" Old Bones asked.

"I'll see you in a couple of days," James told him. There was a bank of fireplaces down the way, and the three of them meandered toward it. Lily kept a pace back as they chatted. It really was a tragedy that diseases like Spectris had no known cure, only highly regulated ways to forestall the disease. I'd be just like him, Lily thought. I'd need to throw myself at the mercy of people like James and Fleamont and Euphemia… St. Mungo's would begrudge letting me even walk in the door.

Once Old Bones was safely away, Lily took James's hand again. Together, they stared at the fireplace into which Old Bones had disappeared. The merriness from earlier had disappeared. Spectris was a horrifying thought.

"I wonder why St. Mungo's won't help him," James said bitterly.

"You said he's estranged from his family?" Lily asked. "Maybe they've got something to do with it…"

"Probably," James said. "It's a Bones who's head of the Department of Pox and Plague… I bet he's managed to… ah, it's hard to imagine someone doing that to their own family." He sighed. "And it may not even be that… Dad respects Edgar Bones, honestly."

"You'll get him what he needs?" Lily asked, peering up at him.

"Yeah," said James, swallowing hard. "Yeah. I'll do what I can. I mean… it's Old Bones." He made a face. "I don't know if Dad will say yes, but I'll try."

"You're a good man, James," she said firmly. And it was true. One of the many wonderful things about James was that instead of using the gifts he'd been born with to elevate himself above the rest, he used them to help others.

He smiled at her, some of the light returning to his hazel eyes. "Glad you married me?"

"So far," she said, spirits lifting.

Her spirits remained lifted the rest of the day, even during a particularly trying discussion with her mother. Some of the photographs they'd had done were ready for review, and Lily had sent a handful of them over to her mother and sister by owl. They were her favorite ones: she and James in the small nave at the church, hands clasped, both beaming; the three of them together, waving at the camera, outside the church; and one of her, with a large petunia in her hands, waving it in the direction of her sister, whose elbow could be seen just at the edges of the photograph.

Her mother, however, hadn't expressed much sentiment at Lily's choices. Instead, she'd seemed bewildered by the speed with which Lily had received them.

"Mum," Lily had protested, twisting the cord of the phone around her fingers. They'd traipsed over to the other side of Godric's Hollow in order for her to call and make sure the owl hadn't been blown off course by the unseasonal wind. "They aren't the final final photos… just the ones the photographer thought we'd want to see."

"And Lily," her mother whispered, ignoring her. "How am I supposed to keep these?"

"What do you mean?" Lily asked. Static issued from the receiver and she frowned at it, tapping it against the paned glass of the red telephone booth. Not for the first time, she wished her mother had agreed to owning a two-way mirror through which they could talk. "What do you mean, though, Mum?" she repeated, unsure if her mother had heard her. The silence had been going on quite some time, and she wasn't entirely sure it was due to the Muggle telephone.

Her mother's sigh gusted in her ear. "Petunia's quite serious about her young man," she said, voice small and hesitant. For no particular reason, Lily's heart clutched in her chest. "It's just… Lily, these pictures move."

"Oh," said Lily. Of course the pictures moved. In fact, she'd nearly forgotten that in her mother's and father's wedding photographs, the bride and the groom remained quite stationary, solemn, even, and did not steal kisses from one another. "Oh, right."

"He's over quite a lot," her mother offered after a pause. "He doesn't know about – about any of this. He doesn't know about your situation. All he knows is that you left us for school quite a long time ago–"

"That wasn't my fault!" said Lily, making one full turn in the cramped confines of the red telephone booth. "I had to go, you see, and learn how to–"

"I know you did."

But there was a hint in her tone that suggested her mother was not quite as understanding as she had always portrayed herself to be.

"Lily, my dear, you're starting your own new life. You're newly married and you – you have other interests. Petunia doesn't have that. Not yet." Lily's gaze wandered up the street, to where James leaned against the corner of a tiny Tesco, unabashed that his clothing was unlike anyone else's on the street. His hands were jammed in his pockets and Lily thought he might be whistling. This helped the sudden sourness in her stomach. "-dating Vernon for a while, and you know how sensitive she is to anything out of place."

These words brought Lily back from James's side. "Out of place?" she asked, incredulous. "In my own family?"

"I didn't mean that."

"Then what did you mean?" Lily demanded. "You left my wedding because of poor little Petunia's feelings, and now you won't even keep pictures of the event because her boyfriend might happen to see them?" Something in her chest cracked.

"Lily, they're magical. And we're not. They don't belong in my house! They're lovely, I love them, but what if anyone saw them? How could I possibly explain that? It's to protect you, as well!"

"Weak," Lily said.

"Don't be cruel, Lily."

Neither one of them had been happy when the conversation finally ended, with Lily promising to come retrieve the photos before she returned to school for her last two months as a student. For a long moment, Lily rested her head against the glass, lips pursed, running over every word in that conversation, wondering why everything her mother had said sounded both reasonable and like a rejection at the same time. The foug of her breath crawled over the glass, and she idly wrote the letter L in it. There had been times, especially after her friendship with Severus had finally broken for good, that she'd been tempted to flee back to the Muggle world and pretend magic, Hogwarts, and everything else had been simply a dream. There were times when the bias against people like her, with one foot in the Muggle world, and one foot in wizarding society, had threatened to crack her resolve and send her fleeing home to her parents and sister.

But it was conversations like these that reminded her that she didn't fully belong there, as well. Lily sighed, watching her transparent L ghost away. Her gaze caught once more on James, who was bent over, robes trailing on the ground, examining a vent. Lightness caught her once more, and with a determined push, she left the telephone booth and strode over to her husband, flinging her arms around him when he turned.

"Take me home?" she suggested.

"Yes, please," he said, whirling her around, making her laugh when moments ago, she might have cried.

LPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLP

The days glided by. Lily determinedly set aside her small annoyances and large concerns to focus only on her new marriage and the life that was going to begin once her studies were finally complete. After the initial tour, her excitement at working for Fleamont Potter's company began to grow until she wished that she had her NEWTs already, and that she hadn't been dosed with a sleeping draught that had stolen six months of her life. The excitement was strong enough, and those first days as a wife happy enough that even collecting the pictures from her mother was not the ache it could have been. Petunia wasn't there, which meant she got to have a cup of tea and tell her mother everything about the reception. They'd finished with a long, lingering hug, and Lily putting the photos carefully in her handbag before Disapparating.

But her happiest hours, not including the ones she spent in private with James, were spent at the company.

"We thought we could rotate you through the various departments," Fleamont had explained. "I have an idea what you might be best suited for, but it's just an idea, and I want you to be able to make your own decisions. Every potioneer," he added, "has their own pet project, their own idea of what they want to spend their life working on." The smile he gave her was a fond one. "You're young," he added gently. "You may not even know exactly what that will be. And that's why I want you to explore instead of forcing yourself to stick with one department."

"That sounds like an internship," Lily had replied, smiling. "A good thing," she'd added in a rush. "I think that's exactly what I need."

There was, to Lily's surprise, a level of secrecy that put even the Ministry to shame. There were places in the company, she learned, that even James had never seen, where potioneers worked on developing new potions and antidotes, hair creams and other beauty projects, and other things of which Lily only heard hints.

Before she could begin working, however, she had to have a charm made for her that would allow her to pass through the wards that guarded the company's various products. Thus, they presented themselves rather cheerfully at one of the few places they hadn't been on the tour: the reception area at the very front of the offices, where visitors were given their impermanent passes, and workers were given their permanent charms.

"Looks like my dad is giving you jewelry," James teased, waving a bracelet with several charms on it at her.

"His son could learn a lesson or two from that," Lily pointed out, laughing up at him. Taking it in her hands, she admired it. Wrought in silver, small charms hung from it: a skull, a cauldron, crossed wands emitting stars, a tarot card signifying The Mage, and a small cat that looked up from its tightly curled body every once in a while and opened its mouth in a silent meow. "This is perfect," she said, admiring it. "Wow, I can go anywhere…"

"Remember, I'll want you to come home every once in a while," James joked.

"If you're lucky," Lily said, giving him an absent wave.

Considering that just a moment ago, James had been playful, even flirtatious, when he said her name – just her name, Lily – in a tight voice, it sent a chill straight down her spine. It jerked her head up; her eye's caught her husband's. There was a darkness in there she'd never seen before: James was a brave man, solid, and dependable. But there was fear on his face.

And then, Lord Voldemort was there, passing into the waiting room like a dark shadow. All air and noise was sucked out of the room at his approach.

James had tried to warn her – he'd clearly seen him coming through the wide panels of glass – but it was too late to duck away. Knees wobbling, Lily turned slightly, hand going to her pocket where her wand was tucked safely away. There was nothing she could do, not with him there, flanked by two unremarkable-looking wizards, clearly disguised.

"Good afternoon," said Voldemort, voice higher than she'd expected.

She tightened her mouth, to keep it from trembling. He knows, she thought wildly. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched two witches scuttle out of the way, through the open door. Lily had one brief, blinding urge to follow, but Voldemort was between her and the door.

And Lily could not leave James.

Clenching her jaw, she forced herself to remain motionless.

"Nothing to say?" Malice twined in his tone, sending fresh fear to waft over Lily.

"Good afternoon," she and James chorused together.

"That is better," said Lord Voldemort. "We wouldn't wish to be impolite to a visitor, now would we?"

Lily swayed a little, forcing her knees to unlock. Why – why – was he here? Why did he have to choose today, of all days, to come here? "No, we wouldn't," she murmured. "Please, pardon us for our surprise." The words shook a little. Lily's neck felt tight; it tightened to the point of pain when Voldemort's eyes moved to her face. In his looks, she saw the remnants of what must have been very handsome features. They were symmetrical and even, cheekbones high, eyes wide-set, nose even and straight. But there was more than a hint of otherness; his skin was waxy and white, his features blurred, and there was a deep, red gleam in the recesses of his irises. He's just a man, Lily insisted to herself. But seeing him up close, she could not quite make herself believe it…

"No," James was saying, in the second she'd taken to look her fill of this snake-like man who had been terrorizing their society for more than a decade. "We wouldn't want to be rude." Lily nearly moaned at the hint of bravado buried in the forced courtesy. James, she pleaded silently. As though he could hear the silent message, James flicked a glance to her. Warmth washed over her, banishing much of the fear. "What can I do to help you?"

Voldemort was quiet, attention turned once more to James. One of his companions shifted, crossing his arms. "It seems," he said quietly, "that I have a mystery I must solve myself." Anger whipped out, released without a target, a curse without a victim. "I have come with several questions."

She and James shared another, longer look.

"We may not have answers," said James, with a tiny nod.

"I believe," said Voldemort, "that you do."

Lily's skin crawled. Her hand was clenched around her wand, through the fabric of her robes. The tip of it pressed hard enough into her thigh that it would surely leave a bruise. Her brain was screaming at her to run, to flee, to not be the person that drew the anger out of Voldemort, like venom from a snake. But there James stood, straight-backed and upright, and she couldn't leave him.

"What's your question?" James asked, the shadow of a tremor betraying a hint of fear. "Let me see what I can do for you."

"This company," said Voldemort, drawing himself upward, "was the initial place in which the antidotes to the pox were brewed up, is it not?"

"The initial, yes," said James. "But not the only, once the sacriphant's blood was replicated." He paused. "At least… I believe so. I was… otherwise occupied during the – during everything."

Voldemort might have been hewn from granite. "I have heard," he said coldly, "that both you and your parents have had rather extraordinary recoveries from that which might have done permanent damage or killed others."

"We have had some luck," said James, with such a semblance of cheer that Lily wanted to hug him. "You're right."

"Extraordinary luck," Voldemort repeated. It had been some minutes, Lily realized, since he had blinked. "Do you know the source of your luck, wizard?"

"I beg your pardon?" James said politely.

"Your parents would be dead had there not been a sacriphant," Voldemort said flatly. "A pity they fell ill; I'm told they are purebloods of great stature. I know it was mostly a disease that was nurtured in filthy quarters. I have heard tell that Potter Gardens is a magical wonder in our society." Thin lips twisted in a white face. "Though I realize that even such a wondrous estate has not been without recent additions of weeds."

Heat rose up in Lily, hot and violent, the blush nearly instantaneous.

But Voldemort was continuing. "It is all very well and good that your parents survived, but it has become a matter of interest to me, the identity of the wizard who enabled it. I question why there is so much secrecy surrounding his identity, when surely he knows that he would be well… celebrated." Voldemort, Lily realized, was choosing his words with careful precision. "Let us know his name so that we might honor him!"

"Honor him," Lily murmured before she could stop herself.

"Honor him, and toast to him," said Voldemort.

His hands were white and spidery. Lily clamped her mouth tightly together; the coppery taste of blood filled her mouth. Her breath froze in her throat. Stupid! her mind blared at her. It had been stupid of her to open her mouth, to draw his attention toward her. Something akin to despair filled her belly. Why had Voldemort even known who she was?

The name Severus arrowed immediately in her thoughts.

There was a ring of red around Voldemort's pupils, Lily noticed, in the split second before he turned away. The red was not merely a gleam.

"Are you certain," he asked James, "that the owners of this company do not know the answer I seek?"

"No, they don't." The immediate reply rang with confidence.

Voldemort's gaze slid back to her.

Perhaps it was the single thought of Severus — bleak as those generally were — but in the split second that Voldemort's gaze held hers, Lily seized up everything that she had ever learned about Occlumency, and shielded her innermost thoughts and suspicions. For, it had to be said — but not aloud and not to Voldemort — Lily had, once or twice, wondered if her new in-laws knew more than they were telling. The man before her, whose menace and malevolence threatened to suck her into his orbit, would seize upon that tiny hint of doubt. And then it would be Fleamont and Euphemia drawn in.

Palms sweaty, stomach churning, Occlumency a tattered veil over her thoughts, Lily stammered: "They certainly wouldn't tell me," she said. Then, she lied on instinct: "We've hardly spoken of anything…"

Voldemort's attention drained away from her. It wouldn't surprise him to find that pureblood parents barely brought themselves to speak to their new Mudblood of a daughter. Something in their replies must have — miraculously — satisfied him; now he was nearly out the door, snapping out instructions to contact him if anything ever changed. Lily ignored these in favor of reminding her legs to continue to support her, and grabbing the desk in front of her to hide that her resolve to remain upright was withering.

I could go to my mother.

The thought was instantly stamped out, just as the door firmly shut behind the most dangerous man in the British Isles. What, exactly, could Lily do at her mother's? Perhaps she could hide there until both Petunia and her mother became too obnoxious to live with, but they would be constantly on the watch for anything from Lily's side of the street. She would have to give up her wand…

And she'd have to give up James, who could never blend in with the Muggles.

Never, ever.

It was this thought that straightened her spine. Her chin lifted and she caught and held James's shocked gaze with her own.

This was her world, imperfect as it may be. And she wasn't giving it up.

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An hour later, Lily had downed a healthy amount of firewhisky. There, it mingled with the fire left from her honeymoon with James, and began to feel quite a bit like particularly foolish bravado. Her mind still screamed at her that they had defied Voldemort; Lily had managed to lie to him, even. Still, her hands shook in the aftermath, and she sat on them to hide that from the small crowd who had gathered at Potter Gardens at once to hear their tale.

"Blimey," Peter kept saying. He'd been the last to arrive, and was still wearing his Ministry cloak. "Blimey, you really met him."

"He's not some celebrity, Peter," Sirius said, cuffing him over the ear.

"I didn't mean it like that," protested Peter. "Merlin's beard, Sirius."

"Weren't you terrified?" Remus rounded toward them.

"James wouldn't have the sense," Sirius told him.

"I nearly started laughing," said James; his face was reddened with alcohol, but his mouth was still white around the edges. "I almost couldn't control it. He just walked in there, plain as day!"

"I was terrified," Lily said dryly. She did not tell them of the impulse she'd had, however short-lived, to run back to her mother and her sister's Muggle life. Her hands balled into fists. "Terrified," she repeated.

"You'd hardly have known that by looking at you," said James, warm and kind. "You were brilliant."

At the end, her knees had nearly given out.

A tremor passed through her.

The others might have noticed but for an astonishing occurrence. There, in the center of the room, a blaze of red and orange light split the air straight down the middle. James cried out, leaping to his feet. Lily followed, drawing her wand—

—but it wasn't necessary. The fire, of course, was no draw to battle, nor the glow of a curse. Warmth swept over her, and the last of her tremors ceased. Fawkes appeared within his own blaze, chuntering, strutting toward them with a grand air of self-importance.

"Fawkes," she breathed.

"Looks like someone else has noticed you've defied You Know Who," Sirius pointed out unnecessarily, flopping back onto the sofa, tucking his hands under his head. "Unless I've missed my guess, that's Dumbledore's phoenix."

"No shit," James said. "Who else do we know who has got a phoenix?"

"Boys," Fleamont said mildly. "I believe there is a message for you — all of you."

"Maybe he's heard what's happened today," James said eagerly. Then, indicating himself and Lily, added: "And he wants to hear it from us."

Fawkes was holding out a letter. But instead of being addressed solely to James and Lily, it was addressed to five of them: James, Lily, Sirius, Remus, and Peter. It might have arrived apropos of nothing… except, once Lily had her turn with it, having read the words and experienced her eyebrows crawling up toward her hairline, she wondered if Dumbledore had perhaps been waiting for just a moment like this.

"Wow," said James, awed. "He wants us to help him!"

"Because of You Know Who?" Peter asked, uncertain.

"I don't care what reason he has for inviting us," Sirius said carelessly. "I've got to do something now we're finally nearly done with school and our NEWTs. Might as well see what Dumbledore's got to say about this alternative career opportunity."

"Anything's got to be better than working at the Ministry," Peter said glumly.

"Cheer up, Pete," James said warmly. "We'll all be together again, doing things. It'll be like old times. We've missed having you at Hogwarts, you know. It's just not the same without you."

For of course, there was no question of them joining. Lily would have done so years ago had Dumbledore but asked.

"What shall I tell him?" James asked, quill already in hand. Eagerness exuded from him the same way malevolence had from Voldemort.

"Ask him where he wants us," Lily said firmly, "and when."

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They went to their first meeting of the Order of the Phoenix before they returned to school. It went by in a whirl: Lily's head had spun, and she'd held tight to James's hand the whole while. But the entire time, from the moment they'd leapt from the train onto the disused platform, Lily had felt a burgeoning rightness. This was what she wanted to do, she wanted to help stop the machinations of Voldemort and his crew of Death Eaters, who hated people of her birth for no reason. The thought, unbidden, had risen to her mind again and again that surely, with Severus on the side of darkness, Dumbledore and the Order might need someone with her love of Potions.

There were no more thoughts of leaving the magical world and moving in with her mother.

The only blot on the meeting was when she'd looked about the crowd, smiling to see the Prewett brothers, she'd locked eyes first with Ginny Peverell, and then her brother, Harry.

What were they doing there?

But there had been no time to question them, not even when they'd all left together, leaping onto the same train. Lily might have waited until she and James were alone in order to air her questions — namely, why had Dumbledore allow a witch and a wizard who weren't even fully trained into the Order? — except that Remus brought it up the moment they had shut the door to Potter Gardens.

"What were they doing there?" Remus growled, kicking off his battered boots. He was voicing Lily's own thoughts.

"I wondered the same thing," Peter said sourly. "They're not even old enough, are they?"

"Who, dears?" Euphemia said indulgently, waving her wand. Their shoes shot into a tidy row beside the door.

"Those Peverells," Peter told her, slumping through the door to the sitting room. "They were there at the meeting."

"They're hardly old enough," said James, shrugging out of his cloak and hanging it up before giving his mother a kiss. "I know we're still at school—"

"Not like they are," said Sirius, clapping his hands together. "They're not even seventeen yet, are they? When are their birthdays, again?"

Lily lingered in the small foyer, and therefore was privy to seeing her parents-in-law exchange a look heavily laden with a meaning that was curiously obfuscated. Buckles on her boots half undone, Lily sat back on her heels, mouth falling open slightly. They know something about the Peverells, she decided, in all of one instant. Whatever it was they knew was not as clearly written. Eyebrows slowly rising, she stared at them, her thoughts swirling.

Remus's next words did not help.

"Full of secrets, those two," he muttered, Thunder across his brow.

James winced, pressing his fingers to his temple. "Mmph," he said. "Like what?"

"Are you all right?" Lily asked, dropping beside him, covering his forehead with her hand.

"Yes," he said, taking her hand and pressing a kiss on her palm. For one moment, it was just the two of them in the room.

Fleamont cleared his throat.

"Did you put a memory charm on me?" James asked, turned toward Sirius.

"Not since fifth year," Sirius said composedly. "Why?"

"My head hurts like you've cast one of your shoddy charms on me," James told him, with a tiny laugh. "You sure about that?"

"Sure as sure," Sirius told him. "And my charms aren't shoddy, Prongs, if I'd put a charm on you, you'd never know it was even there."

"Keep telling yourself that," said James, tossing a pillow at him.

"I tell it to my mirror every morning," Sirius informed them.

Lily snuggled against her husband, chuckling a little.

"I didn't tell anyone this at the time," Remus began, "because I wanted to talk to them at a different time." He rolled his eyes. "They were—"

"Perhaps," Euphemia said, quite loudly, "We can allow them some secrets." A flush of color rose in her cheeks. "They seem quite helpful to me. They saved you lot from sleeping the rest of your lives, after all."

"Not me," Peter smirked.

"That's true," said Remus, scratching his head. "But—"

"And if Dumbledore trusts them, surely we should too?" Euphemia went on. Lily had never known the gentle woman to interrupt anyone, but there she was, eyes snapping.

"I don't not trust them," Remus told her. "But they—"

"Remus," Euphemia said, determined not to let him finish his sentence. "Perhaps their secrets are there for a reason."

Lily peered from one to the other. James put his arm around her and she nuzzled against him. Surely, this was about more than just the draught of living death, which was hardly a secret. What's the biggest secret they could possibly have? They're teenagers! But then, in an instant, it came to her. What was, at this moment, the largest secret that anyone could have? The wizarding world, after all, from members of the Order, the professors of Hogwarts, and Voldemort himself… all were united in their desire to know who had saved so many from the pox.

"One of them's the sacriphant?!" The words gushed out of Lily.

Again, the look between her parents-in-law was quite telling.

"Couldn't have been Ginny," said James. "She was with us." His face was blank with shock. "Are you serious? That's what you think all this is about? You think Peverell's the sacriphant?"

"Any suspicions you may have," said her father-in-law, his lips barely moving, "are better left unsaid."

Peter made a face. "But if it is him—"

"And even unvoiced," Euphemia said gently. "They are hunting whoever it was. It's better not to even speak these things out loud."

"The walls," said Fleamont, "can listen."

"I knew he had a secret," Remus said, troubled. "I didn't know it was anything like this. Blimey." He grimaced. "I was going to… have a small talk with him. Now I don't think — well, I don't think I will."

"Wise," said Euphemia. "The more secrets are spoken of, the more chance they have of being overheard. We learned that when Grindelwald was ascending. I'm just terribly sad that you lot have to learn these lessons as well." She paused. "But I will say that I think the Peverells are trying to help. There's no darkness in them."

Lily caught Peter rolling his eyes.

"He's so young," said James, something queer and even protective in his tone. His arm tightened around her shoulders. "They're even younger than we are. How can they…?"

"Maybe they aren't even young," Sirius said, cheerful. He stretched his hands over his head. "Maybe they're in disguise." When they all laughed, he faked an injured expression. "So we all think they have some big secret. And I think you're all thinking too small. Maybe one of them's Merlin and the other one is Nimue — the real Nimue, Lily — and they're settling in our time and helping us straighten everything out."

"That would explain some things," Remus muttered.

Then they were all laughing again. Lily sank against James, swirling thoughts settling. It was a diversion, speculating on the mystery of the Peverells, but — when it came down to it — it didn't have much at all to do with her, did it? The conversation turned to less dire things. Across the room, Euphemia winked at her. Lily wanted to help build a better world. The Peverells seemed intent on helping with that, however obfuscated their reasons for doing so might be.

That was all she really needed to know.

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Author's Note: After a long absence, hello! And happy holidays! I've been working madly on my latest arc and it is almost done, thank goodness. I hope you enjoy. Please take the time to review, thank you!