The Lost Generation (1975-1982)

The Lost Generation

(1975-1982)

Chapter Sixteen

Redemption


Tuesday, 7 April, 1981

They crept round the edge of the Forbidden Forest, hoping that Hagrid’s oversized boarhound, Fang, wouldn’t hear or smell them. Hand in hand, they found the path they had used before, stepping lightly over gnarled tree roots and avoiding snapping twigs. The forest smelled of spring, small white flowers blooming even in the deep shadows beneath the canopy of the trees, while the grass in a large circular clearing they favored was positively bursting with wildflowers, spreading to the edge of the sun’s reach like a carpet. They placed one of their blankets on the ground in the very center of the clearing, then spread another on top, under which they crept to remove their clothes, should any prying eyes be nearby.

Afterward, he lay on his back, staring up at the sky, the top blanket making him feel rather warm after his exertion, especially as it was an unseasonably warm day. A languorous peace fell over him and he ran his hand up her back, the sleek skin like silk under his fingers, urging her face down to meet his again. Her lips brushed against his and she opened her mouth, her bare breasts tickling agonizingly across his chest as he parted his lips and sank his fingers into her fine blonde hair.

She broke the kiss slowly, then put her elbow on his hipbone, supporting her head on her hand casually. She regarded him with some amusement in her icy blue eyes, tracing the red hair around his nipples with a thin, dexterous finger; he traced his own fingers down her throat to her chest, enjoying her quick intake of breath and giving her a sly lopsided smile. They didn’t talk much, generally, at these times. They didn’t talk much at all, and that was fine with him.

But suddenly, her eyes opened wide and Roxanne Maine-Thorpe’s mouth dropped open as she stared over his head; normally this was a sight he quite liked, but then he heard slow, steady thudding footsteps behind him; someone had entered the clearing. He pulled himself up abruptly, turning to find a familiar face staring back at him.

“Hello, Bill Weasley. I sensed that you were here, but I see that you are busy procreating, so I will leave you....after I wish you my hearty congratulations....”

Bill pulled up the blanket on which he was sitting so that Roxanne was covered, and he pulled the top blanket onto his own lap. “Um, hello,” he said to the Centaur. “We--we’re not procreating, so no c-congratulations are n-necessary,” he stuttered.

“Oh? I thought you were,” the Centaur responded placidly. “I saw quite plainly.” Roxanne’s face lost all color; Bill didn’t feel this was the time to go into Prophylaxis Potion and explain the difference between procreating and what they’d done.

“Well, technically, yes, but also technically, no,” he said, realizing that he must sound mad; he was also trying not to think about the Centaur watching them together. “Anyway--”

“I am sorry. I did not mean to intrude. I will simply offer my congratulations and leave. Congratulations.” Firenze gave a small bow of his head, turned, and began to walk out of the clearing, his gait slow and stately.

“I said there was no reason to congratulate anyone,” Bill said irritably as the Centaur left. He was finding Firenze no easier to deal with now than when he was younger. The Centaur turned around. He raised one eyebrow and looked at Bill knowingly.

“I am not congratulating you because you have begotten a child. I am congratulating you because you have a new sister. We have all seen it in the stars,” he said, looking up at the clear sky. “Mars was very bright last night, especially half-way between the darkest hour and the dawn....”

Bill’s jaw dropped. “You know for sure that I have a new sister?” That would be brilliant, he thought. His mum would be thrilled!

“Of course,” Firenze replied calmly. Bill frowned.

“Do you--do you tell everyone at the school when their mum has had a baby?” he asked, confused.

Firenze was still perfectly unruffled. “Of course not, Bill Weasley.” That was all.

Bill watched him turn and walk back into the forest without a by-your-leave, and it was a matter of just a few moments before he was gone from sight. Bill stared at where he’d been until all he could see were the still-vibrating branches that had been pushed out of his way. Bill looked furtively at Roxanne; he could tell she was bursting to ask questions--he rather had the impression that she’d never seen a Centaur in person before--but this wasn’t their pattern, and she held herself in check. No longer caring who else might see him, he stood and dressed quickly, urging Roxanne to do the same. He’d learned that she was very skilled at all aspects of clandestine trysts--beginnings, middles and ends. They were soon creeping out of the forest again.

Neither one of them fancied anyone in Gryffindor or Slytherin finding out that they’d been sleeping together; they kissed briefly and went in opposite directions when they neared the lakeshore; Bill returned to the castle by the western shore, skirting the greenhouses, while he saw a distant blonde figure at the edge of the eastern shore. He had the shorter route, so he reached the oaken castle doors first, pushing them open hurriedly and running inside, trying to work out where Charlie was most likely to be so he could also hear the good news. Roxanne was already a distant--albeit pleasant--memory.

He needn’t have worried about finding his brother; he had no sooner entered the castle than Charlie came hurtling down the marble stairs, stopping short when he saw Bill. “There you are!” Charlie cried, grinning. He frowned only for a moment at the blankets his brother was carrying, then looked up at Bill’s face, refusing to be distracted.

“Good news!” Charlie said, waving an envelope. “Mum wrote to say that she had the baby.”

Bill nodded. “Yeah, I know. I was just coming to find you.”

Charlie stopped. “How’d you know? Professor McGonagall just gave me the letter from Mum; she didn’t want to send it to just one of us or the other, so she sent Errol to her. I reckon Mum was knackered after all that or she would have told us sooner, and you know how Dad is, plus he was probably busy taking care of Percy, Ron and the twins.”

Bill frowned. “Tell us sooner? Sooner than within twenty-four hours?”

Now Charlie was frowning at him. “What are you talking about? The baby’s six days old now.”

Bill took the letter from Charlie and read, in his mother’s handwriting, that his sister had been born on the first of April at three o’clock in the morning. “Then why--?” he started to say, but on seeing the expression on his brother’s face, stopped dead.

“Why what?”

“Erm,” Bill hedged, not wanting to tell his brother that he’d been in the Forbidden Forest. He’d probably want to know why. The question rattled around his head though, it wouldn’t be denied. Why did the Centaur behave as though our sister had just been born?

“Says they named her Virginia but are already calling her Ginny,” Charlie went on. “Typical. I reckon they have to give us nicknames so we know when we’ve stepped out of line. I don’t think I’ve ever been called ‘Charles’ or heard you called ‘William,’ except when we’re in trouble.”

“Right, right,” Bill mumbled, staring at the letter. The truly queer thing about his mother’s letter is that she really did sound as though she’d just had the baby. Had she written the note and forgotten to send it off with the owl for almost a week? But no; 07.04.81 was in the upper corner. She’d written it on the seventh of April. Today.

Charlie grinned at him. “Isn’t this great? Another girl! Maybe Mum will cheer up now. She’ll have little Ginny to fuss over.”

Bill nodded, still trying to work out what was bothering him. “Hmm. Yeah, great,” he said, distracted. He was jolted out of his thoughts when Charlie punched him on the arm.

“Hey--!”

“I just worked out why you’ve got those blankets. Who was it this time?” Charlie was practically glaring at him and there was an edge to his voice.

“What?”

“I said who was it this time? I should really tell Mum what you’ve become, I should. She still thinks you’re so perfect. Shagging a different girl every week! Why’d you break up with Juliet, anyway? She was nice.” His voice ended on a whine.

Bill grimaced. He’d actually only been with Roxanne since breaking up with Juliet, but he’d led Charlie to believe otherwise. “If you’re so in love with her, you ask her to be your girlfriend,” he said irritably, thinking of Juliet with a pang. He missed her, he really did, but the row that had led to their breaking up....It didn’t bear thinking about. He had suspected that Charlie fancied her a little as well and had been living vicariously through him a bit; their breaking up spoiled that. Charlie was flushing furiously now.

“As if she’d look twice at a fourth year,” he murmured with his head down, so that it was almost impossible to hear him. “Not to mention that she still fancies you,” he added more loudly. “Although I can’t reckon why.”

Bill folded up his mother’s letter. “Shut up,” he said to his brother without rancor. He wanted to figure out what was bothering him about Mum’s letter and didn’t really listen to anything else Charlie said to him as he went up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower.

He thought and thought about it. All during dinner, Alex kept trying to get his attention to talk to him about the Potions homework, and Bill just kept responding in grunts and monosyllables, chewing his food thoughtfully and staring into space. When they were walking back up to Gryffindor Tower, Alex said to him, “Would you like to come watch the next time Lowell and I shag? I know you’ve been dying to....”

“Hm?” Bill said, his eyes blank. “Oh, yeah, sure. Whatever....”

Alex crossed his arms and stood in Bill’s path. “All right, if you were really listening to me, you’d never have agreed to that. What’s going on with you?”

“What? What did you say? I’m sorry, Alex. I’m just....something queer about the letter Mum sent about the baby....”

“Oh, right. Congratulations again. That should cheer up your mum.”

Bill nodded. “Yeah. That’s what Charlie said.”

“So what’s wrong? You can tell me. You know where all the bodies are buried. I’ll never tell,” he said with a grin.

Bill actually looked at him this time, smiling at him, grateful for his friendship. “I know, mate. It’s just--”

In a rush, he told Alex about being in the forest and talking with the Centaur. He didn’t identify the girl he was with. Alex whistled between his teeth.

“Forest, eh? Rather dicey, especially when it’s close to dark. Let alone after.” Bill thought he sounded as though he might have tried this himself. “Anyway, listen; did the Centaur actually say that your sister was born just last night?”

Bill frowned, thinking hard. “No, not in so many words. It just sounded like--oh, I don’t know. When I’ve talked with him before, nothing he said was really crystal-clear....”

Alex backed up and stared. “Um, spend much time talking to Centaurs, do you?” he said, swallowing.

“Long story,” Bill murmured, starting to move again. “And I just can’t see my mum waiting six days to write to us.”

Alex shrugged. “She already had four kids to take care of under the age of five. My mum can barely cope with Oliver, and he’s the only one she’s got to worry about. He’s constantly flying around the house on his toy broom, knocking into things. For a while, she was convinced he’d forgotten how to walk. In fact, I’m not sure I actually did see him walk when I was home for Christmas. He might have done, but most of the time he was on the broom. Mad about it, he is.”

Bill laughed as they continued upwards. “Percy’s already reading and always has his nose in books. You wouldn’t believe the way he’s going through everything on the living room shelves. Dad even said he caught him trying to get the twins to settle down by reading to them. The twins, of course, are the probably the real reason no one could write to me and Charlie for almost a week; they’re always into everything. Ron’s not even a year old yet. He’s just started walking, but Dad says he’s an easy little bloke. Plus, the twins never pick on him. Well, not much, anyway. They go after Percy, as a rule. Probably why he keeps to himself.”

They hung about in the common room until rather late, and when Bill was dressing for bed, he had a sudden thought and went to his trunk. He pulled out the wad of letters his mother had sent him that term; he kept them tied up in a bundle next to his spellbooks and parchment. Halfway through his dressing, wearing an odd combination of his pajama trousers and an unbuttoned shirt, he sat on his bed sorting through them, finally coming to the one his mother had sent to him most recently.

Dear Bill,

First off, I should tell you that I haven’t had the baby yet, in case that’s why you think I’m writing. Don’t worry! As soon as she arrives, your father and I will write to you and Charlie. I would dearly like it to happen now, but then I never did cope well with waiting for any of you.

Are you having to give out many detentions, as a prefect? I remember when I was in school...

And she rambled on a bit about some school memories after that. Bill didn’t really pay attention. In fact, he remembered that as soon as he’d seen that it wasn’t about the baby being born, he’d tucked it away with the other letters, not really thinking about it. He looked carefully at the beginning of the letter again. I haven’t had the baby yet... Why would she say that she was going to write to them as soon as the baby was born and then wait six days?

He stared and stared at the letter, trying to work out what was really bothering him, and then, giving up and starting to fold it up again, he finally noticed it. In the upper right-hand corner of the parchment, his mother had scribbled the date very faintly. It was hard to make out, but as far as Bill could tell it read 04.04.81.

Now he knew what was bothering him.

* * * * *

Wednesday, 20 May, 1981

Sam Bell put down his fork and patted his stomach. “Oh, Tom’s shepherd pies just do me in. You’ll have to roll me back to the office, Lily,” he added, closing his eyes.

Lily Potter threw her napkin across the small pub table, laughing. “You shouldn’t eat so much at lunch, Sam. You’ll fall asleep this afternoon, and you didn’t get through half of that paperwork on your desk this morning.” She took a sip of tea and looked at him smugly. “I’ve turned in all of my reports and started helping Gemma with hers. She’s knackered; Neville’s got her up all night, teething. I’m so lucky with Harry. He’s got four teeth now, two top and two bottom, but he just chews on his stuffed Eeyore, never frets. Well,” she amended, “almost never. Not about the teething pain, anyway. If we actually leave the room before he’s fallen asleep, he gets terribly upset. I know we should let him drop off on his own, but--”

Sam nodded, draining his own mug of tepid tea. “Katie did that as well.”

“But she doesn’t anymore? How did you break her of it? We just can’t bear to leave him in his cot, crying his eyes out because he doesn’t want to be alone....”

He shrugged and shook his head. “She did try to get us to come to her a couple of nights after the first time, but she cried for a shorter time each night until she stopped altogether. The first time it wasn’t actually intentional. One night, a little over a year ago, Trina and I just both reached our limit. We turned in, she was still awake and started bawling, and neither one of us could drag ourselves out of bed. Trina kept saying, ‘What if something is really wrong?’ And I told her that she cries differently when that’s true, and if she was still crying a half hour after she’d started, I’d go in and see to her.”

Lily raised her eyebrows. “So? How long did it take?”

“Exactly twenty-eight minutes before she was quiet as a lamb. I really dodged a bullet.”

She laughed. “You did. And you know, I used exactly that expression the day before yesterday with Gemma, and she started ducking and bobbing about, wanting to know ‘What bullet?’ and ‘How on earth could an armed Muggle have found our office?’” Lily rolled her eyes.

“We Muggle-borns will just have to keep confounding the others, I reckon,” he said, laughing. “I shan’t be changing the way I speak, so they’ll just have to figure it out.”

“Nor shall I,” Lily said, raising her chin. “I do wish more Aurors were Muggle-born, like you. I feel a bit like I spend half my day just explaining the Muggle world and Muggle expressions to other Aurors. Last week, Fife wanted me to explain to him how ‘tellybishon’ works. As if I know!”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him that first you go to a shop that sells ‘tellybishons,’ you pay for one in Muggle money, you take it home to a house or flat with electricity, plug it in, turn it on and convert your brains to mush. He asked me--perfectly seriously--whether the part about converting your brains to mush was absolutely necessary to use the ‘tellybishon,’ and I said, no, not absolutely necessary, although it certainly helps.”

Sam wagged his finger at her. “You shouldn’t tease the purebloods, Lily. It’s not nice.” But he was grinning.

“Oh, but it’s so easy, Sam,” she replied, reaching in her robe pocket for her money. He put his hand up.

“Don’t worry, Lily. My turn today, remember?”

She raised one eyebrow. “No, you did last time we partnered. You must be thinking of someone else.”

He looked baffled for a moment, then said, his face falling. “Oh, that’s right. When I was on duty with Ward on Saturday, he treated for lunch....” He trailed off, and the two of them stared at the table; Sam swore to himself he wouldn’t cry, even though he would have minded Lily seeing him cry less than most people. Since she’d started working as an Auror she’d almost become like a little sister to him, and he and Trina got on very well with her and James as a couple as well.

“Are you on duty for the funeral?” she asked softly, lifting her eyes to his. He shook his head.

“No. I’m a pallbearer. They need plenty of help, after all. Three coffins.”

She nodded. “I’m on duty with Dedalus Diggle. God, I wish it were anyone else. I’m afraid he makes me laugh too much. His clothes are just too outlandish. And this will not be an occasion for laughter,” she said softly, her voice a little thick now. Sam nodded. “This is getting very--ominous. Three Aurors going missing in three month’s time, and their families all killed....”

Sam sighed. “Makes you understand why Moody’s so paranoid, though, doesn’t it?”

“Definitely. I try not to let on to James how worried I am, but sometimes I just--I wake up with these nightmares, and I have to go and check on Harry. A couple of nights ago I ended up just falling asleep in the rocking chair beside his cot, with my face against the bars. James found me like that in the morning. It was just the night before that, you know, we got word that ....”

Sam put his hand over hers where it lay on the table. “There, there, Lily. Yes, it’s more than a little unnerving. But we’re all taking precautions, and trying to work out what they had in common, why they were targeted....”

She grimaced. “Gemma and Doris and I have been all through their work files, which cases they’ve been on, who they’ve arrested, and there’s no set pattern. And we’ve all worked with all three of them--Ward, Harris and Johanssen--so if it’s a matter of cases, we’ve all shared cases with them. Why were they targeted, and no one else?”

Sam looked very grim. “Not to be pessimistic, but who’s to say no one else will be targeted? There are a lot more than three Aurors in the department. Maybe it’s not a particular case, but a matter of all of the Aurors being systematically wiped out,” he said quietly.

“By Voldemort?” she said, even more quietly.

“Right. And offing the families afterward is just his way of salting the earth, as it were.”

She put her other hand over Sam’s, so that it was sandwiched between hers. “Or maybe they’re not trying to get rid of all of us, as that would be a lot of work, but convince some of us to just walk away, for the sake of our families,” she whispered, then looked up at him. He saw how troubled she was. “I mean--if you thought Trina and Katie might be in danger because of this, what would you do?”

He drew his lips into a line. “I--I don’t know. Try to tuck them away somewhere safe, I reckon....But you can’t live in a cave, and I don’t want to live without my family....”

“Nor do I!” she said with feeling. “And James can’t just go off and hide; he has his career. Although now, every time he has a match I think about what a lovely target he would make, flying about a pitch, hundreds of people watching....”

“Well, even though it’s not as important as playing Quidditch,” Sam said, a smile starting to twist his lips, “Trina does like her job. You might not think that a barmaid is very important, but she has her faithful customers, and they tip her handsomely....”

Lily nodded. “I’d be the last one to say that that’s an unimportant job. Especially at Maxwell’s; that’s the busiest wizarding pub in Birmingham.”

“And that’s saying something,” he smiled. He squeezed her hand, then withdrew it. “Come on, unless you have a superstition about the last person I treated to lunch disappearing, let me get this one, Lily. All right?”

She frowned. “I’m not superstitious, you know that, Sam.” She threw up her hands. “Fine. Far be it from me to turn down a free lunch.”

He nodded at her and went to pay Tom, finding that his back was disappearing down a corridor leading to the private parlors. He decided to follow him, rather than wait for him to return, but suddenly, a hand pulled him into a doorway before he could reach the room where Tom had disappeared, and when the door slammed behind him, he found that the business end of a wand was pressed against his throat. It was long, as long as Sam’s forearm, made of a glossy reddish-brown wood that shone in the candlelight.

He was surrounded by four people in hooded cloaks and masks; the largest one was still holding his upper arm, and he nodded to a shorter, athletically-built man, who took Sam’s wand from his robe pocket, and, pointing at Sam’s legs, cried, “Locomotor mortis!”

The hand was released from his arm; Sam had lost all feeling in his legs and fell over, trying to turn his body so that he wouldn’t break his nose; he banged his cheekbone on the hard wooden floor instead. He was also aware of banging his hipbone on the floor, but he had no sensation there, so it hardly mattered at the moment. On the other hand, where his cheekbone had made contact with the floor it was throbbing with pain, and he knew he’d have a bruise to heal later. If he was going to have a later.

He looked up at them, swallowing, trying to work out how he was going to deal with four of them at once when he had no wand, useless legs, and all he could think of was, It’s me. I’m next. And then they’ll kill Trina and Katie....

“What do you want?” he croaked out, wishing he could feel anything below the waist.

The man who had pulled him into the room crouched next to him and said, “You’ll find out. This is just your introduction. We’ll find you when it’s time. Until then--think about your answer,” he hissed at Sam, who noticed that a long blond hair had escaped from the man’s hood. He jerked his eyes away from the hair to the man’s eyes, which were difficult to see behind the mask, but seemed to be light in color. His hands were meticulously clean, soft and unlined; the nails were perfectly manicured and had absolutely no dirt under them.

“How can I think about my answer when I don’t know the bleeding question?” he growled, looking over the man’s shoulder to the wizard who had taken his wand.

The blond man laughed. “The precise question doesn’t really matter, now does it?” he said silkily, amused. Almost lazily, he pointed his wand at Sam and said, “Imperio!”

Sam felt a feeling of complete peace flow over him; he felt free-floating and happy, not a care in the world. He was vaguely aware that the wizard who had put the curse on him was saying something, something about Lily, but another part of his brain was responding, No. Why should I? I don’t want to. You’ve got the wrong man.

Sam shook himself and the fog seemed to lift from his brain. The wizard was holding his wand down by his side, clenching it very hard, so that his knuckles were quite white; he could tell that the curse hadn’t worked on Sam. He’d successfully fought it.

Just when Sam had decided to lunge at him, the blond wizard suddenly raised his dark wand and disappeared with a pop! The man who’d been holding Sam’s wand threw it down and raised his own wand at the same time as the other two men; they disappeared with a triple pop! Sam dragged himself to where his wand was and took the leg-locking charm off his legs, cursing himself for being ambushed. He might be dead already were it not for the fact that they largely seemed intent on playing with him--for now. If only he could remember what the wizard was telling him to do, something about Lily....

He heard footsteps in the corridor and Lily calling, “Sam? Sam, where are you?” He heard a note of panic in her voice. He staggered to his feet, which felt like they were full of pins and needles, and put his wand away.

“In here, Lily,” he called, but not too loudly; he could hear that she was not far away.

While he was brushing down his robes, she pushed open the door of the room, frowning. “What are you doing in here? Tom came back to the bar and when he saw me standing about, waiting for you, he asked whether I was paying for us today. I told him that you’d gone to pay him, and he said he hadn’t seen you....”

Sam could see that she was breathing rather quickly; he stepped forward and put his hand on her arm. “I’m all right. It’s just--” He wasn’t sure how to put it, and a part of him didn’t want to admit that he’d been surprised by what were obviously four Death Eaters. He had his pride.

“What?”

He bit his lip. “Maybe--just as a precaution--I’ll have Trina and Katie go off somewhere for a while. A bit of a holiday. Maybe even America. Trina has relatives there. She also has an aunt in Hogsmeade. Perhaps they should go stay with her for a while....”

Lily put her hand on his shoulder. “What’s going on, Sam? What aren’t you telling me?”

She was good, but he’d known that before he’d started training her to be an Auror. She saw right through him. He swallowed again.

“I was ambushed,” he admitted. “Four of them. Death Eaters. They want me to think about my answer.”

“To what question?”

He looked up at her. “They wouldn’t tell me. But--I think I know.”

She covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, god, Sam. If that’s true--you should go away, too. But--” She stopped, clearly very perplexed.

Sam waited, but when she still didn’t answer, he said, “What?”

“Well,” she said slowly, staring into space, evidently thinking very hard. “It’s just that you’re Muggle-born, like me. Since when is Voldemort, who hates Muggles and Muggle-borns, recruiting someone like you?”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t know. That didn’t even occur to me. Might be he doesn’t know. Or maybe it’s because I’m an Auror, so he’ll have someone inside the Ministry on his side.”

Lily swallowed and looked very distressed. “We should call a meeting this afternoon. This is serious. Ward, Harris and Johanssen didn’t say anything before they disappeared, and look what happened....”

Sam looked grim. “You think we should? What if there’s already someone in the department who’s on his side? It might get back to those blokes who were here, and who knows what they’ll do then? Just because we didn’t know about it, that doesn’t mean they didn’t talk before they disappeared. Maybe that’s why they disappeared and their families were killed, because they talked.” Of course, Sam thought, he was talking to Lily already....

She paced, her hands held together before her mouth as she concentrated. “Then we’ll just see what Alastor thinks. He’s been around the longest. He’ll know what to do. You’re right; there may already be someone in the department who’s acting as a spy.”

They paid for their lunch at the bar, then Apparated back to the Ministry. They landed in a large circular underground space that was lined at the perimeter with doorways leading to the various departments. Especially in the current climate, Lily was glad that for security, among other reasons, the Ministry offices were scattered across the city of London in disused Tube stations which were inaccessible by non-magical means. At least no one could attack the Ministry of Magic in one fell swoop. It was a small comfort, though, when she thought of her missing comrades, and now Sam.

They went through the portal to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and past the clerk who sat in the outer office. He smiled at them and passed them through; Tobias was ancient and nearly toothless, nodding at them as they walked past his desk. But now, having a reason to suspect everyone, Sam looked at him shrewdly, and he saw that Lily was scrutinizing him as well.

Sam’s heart was beating rather quickly in his chest as they reached Moody’s desk; the old scoundrel was writing out a report, his quill scratching on the parchment as though it was as irritated as he looked. He muttered under his breath as he worked, and Sam pulled Lily aside, noticing that other Aurors in the office, also working at their desks, had taken notice of their approaching Moody.

“We can’t do it like this. We don’t know whether we can trust anyone here,” he whispered. “Follow my lead.” Lily nodded as Sam pulled back from her and said loudly, “No! I told you, Lily. I don’t want to talk about it.” He stomped to his desk and sat down, pulling a stack of folders toward him and dipping a quill in his ink bottle. Lily stomped to her own desk and sat grumpily, taking out a piece of parchment and beginning to write something on it. The problem now was that he didn’t know how he was going to get Moody’s attention. He hadn’t thought it out completely.

Sam thought Lily was going to jump out of her skin when suddenly, Moody said, “Potter! Come here. I want you to look at this report. I believe you were involved in this arrest--?”

Sam didn’t watch her walk to Moody’s desk, but was aware of her movements as he wrote. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her leaning over the desk, reading something.

“Well, I can’t really speak to that, as Sam was interrogating the prisoner at that point; I’d gone to check that the evidence was being properly catalogued,” he heard her say.

“Bell!” Moody bellowed now.

Sam arranged his face carefully into a scowl. “What now?”

“There’s something funny about your report!” Moody snarled at him. “Are you trying to send Death Eaters to Azkaban or get them off?” he demanded.

Sam stood, pounding his fist on his desk. “And do you enjoy calling me up on the carpet in front of the entire department?” All eyes were on them now.

“All right!” Moody growled. “I need a little something to nibble on anyway. We’ll go to the commissary to have this out. I am not happy,” he warned Sam, starting to move toward the portal, carrying the parchment. When Sam didn’t seem to be moving fast enough for him, he glanced over his shoulder and shouted, “Move!” Sam and Lily sped up, following him through Tobias’ office and then out into the large circular room again. They continued to follow Moody to the Ministry commissary, which was empty. Like the Aurors, most other Ministry employees only used the commissary as a last resort, as it was more enjoyable to get out of the office for lunch.

Moody turned to them. “All right. What is the meaning of this?” He held up the parchment he’d been working on at his desk; underneath what had been a narrative about his most recent arrest, in very large letters and what Sam recognized as Lily’s handwriting were the words, “URGENT: Sam and I need to speak to you without it seeming to the others that it’s our idea.”

Sam gaped. “When did you write that? I didn’t see you using a quill at Moody’s desk...”

Lily shrugged. “Simple transference charm. I was writing the words on the parchment on my desk, but I arranged it so that they actually appeared on Alastor’s parchment. I needed some way to communicate to him what we wanted without anyone else around being the wiser.”

Moody nodded at her and his mouth may have been forming a smile, it was difficult for Sam to tell. “Smart girl,” he rasped, then looked around furtively. “Listen, I’m not comfortable doing this here... What’s that transference charm, Potter?” She taught him the charm and he nodded. “Fine. We’ll go back to the office and have this out there--separately, at our desks, on fresh parchment.” He waved his wand at the parchment in his hand and made Lily’s words disappear. “Now. We haven’t been gone long. Let’s get back quickly so no one thinks they’re missing anything.” He nodded at Sam. “You were right to suspect a spy in the department. I won’t say anything more right now; I haven’t the evidence I need just yet, but give me time....”

They returned to their desks, discreetly casting the transference charms on their parchments and proceeding to hold their meeting under everyone’s noses. Sam scribbled on his parchment, “We have a problem.”

A messy scrawl appeared below this: “That’s obvious, Bell. Get to the point.”

He hesitated a moment before dipping his quill in the ink and writing, “I think I’m being recruited to be a D.E.”

“You think?” came the reply. “Don’t you know?”

“It’s complicated. I was told to think about my answer.”

“To what question?”

“That’s what I said,” Lily chimed in.

“He didn’t say. It was implied.”

“Dumbledore.”

“What?” Sam frowned.

“We need to talk to Dumbledore. After work. You both go to Hogwarts, separately, leaving at different times. I’ll go now and speak to him. Potter, you wait until the end of the day. Bell, you beg off two hours before quitting time. Have you got a good broom?”

“Yes, the one I used in school for Quidditch. Don’t use it much anymore.”

“It’ll do. Potter, can you be there?”

“I don't think so. I’ve got to take over caring for Harry; our friend Peter is away, and James was taking care of him today, but he's got a match tonight and has to leave as soon as I get home.”

“Don’t worry, Lily. I don’t want you getting mixed up in this,” Sam wrote. He thought of the wizard who’d tried to put him under Imperius, wishing he could remember....He’d said something about Lily....

“If you’re sure,” Lily wrote; he saw that there were double lines between her brows; they only appeared when she was very worried.

“I’ll fill you in later,” Sam promised.

Sam watched Moody storm out of the office, and he continued to sort through his files while surreptitiously keeping one eye on his watch. He was glad that Frank Longbottom was on field duty with Fife. He was also glad that Frank’s wife Gemma had gone home early to relieve her mother-in-law, who was taking care of their son. Frank and Gemma would probably have picked up on there being something wrong, and Sam didn’t want to involve anyone else, especially anyone with a child. Lily had crossed the room and was helping Doris Crockford with some case files while he continued to work. Five minutes before three o’clock, he put his work away and said to Lily, “I’m leaving for the day.”

Lily scowled at him. “Some of us are going to be working for another two hours.”

He scowled right back. “Good for you. I’m leaving.” Resisting the urge to look around the room and see who was present, he hoped whoever the spy was believed their little antagonistic performance.

Sam strode to the door and Disapparated after he was through the portal; he went to his flat in Birmingham first, to retrieve his broom, and when he arrived in Hogsmeade he aimed for the area just behind the Honeydukes sweetshop. He made his way down the High Street to the Three Broomsticks, having decided that he needed a drink before he attempted to have this meeting. He was shaking from head to foot as he reached for the handle on the pub’s door, then froze when he heard a familiar voice speaking loudly on the other side.

“What you want to do doesn’t really matter, now does it?” the voice drawled with maddening superiority.

That’s him, Sam thought. That’s the bloody sod who was at the Leaky Cauldron....

His heart thudding painfully, Sam watched as the door swung outward and the owner of the voice emerged from the dim recesses of the pub. He thought he would faint when he saw the wizard in question, but a split second later he could only think, No. Not a shock at all. Should have known.

Lucius Malfoy looked down his nose at Sam Bell. “Well!” he said to his companions, of which there were only two now. Sam recognized Crabbe and Goyle, who’d also been in Slytherin, a couple of years behind Malfoy. They were quite substantial in size and could have been two of the other three masked and hooded wizards in the pub. “Look what the cat dragged in and spewed up,” he said, a lopsided smile on his face.

Sam forced himself to pretend to be amused. “It’s been a long time, Malfoy,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. Mustn’t make him think I know he’s the one.

He saw Malfoy flinch and hesitate for a moment himself. “Yes, yes,” he said very quickly after that, as though trying to convince himself that he hadn’t had his wand against Sam’s windpipe just two hours earlier. “It has, hasn’t it? It seems only yesterday that I was beating you for the House Cup, wasn’t it? Not to mention being named Head Boy....”

“It was nine years ago,” Sam reminded him with a nod. “And I let the other prefects know that I didn’t have any interest in being Head Boy. Still scratching my head over how I became a prefect.”

Malfoy’s smirk became more pronounced; Sam wanted to hex it off his face. “As am I, old boy, as am I....”

Sam tried to keep his breathing easy. “You’ll remember, though, that while Gryffindor didn’t win the House Cup in my final term, we did win the Quidditch Cup that year.”

Malfoy tipped back his head, appraising Sam from beneath his almost-closed eyelids. “Yes, yes....A worthy adversary. In many ways you carried the team, I’d say. The rest of them weren’t really up to their captain. But then, my players weren’t either,” he sniffed. "By the way, you can stop carrying your broom around; you're no longer the Gryffindor captain," he added, his mouth twisting in a sarcastic smile, nodding at Sam's worn-looking old broom.

Sam swallowed, actually glad that Malfoy had gone back to needling him, as he'd felt tense and extra-suspicious due to his brief compliment. Don’t trust him, don’t trust him, his brain shouted in the background.

“So,” Malfoy said, crossing his arms and remaining planted in front of the pub door, as though blocking Sam’s way. “What brings you to Hogsmeade?”

Sam nodded at the pub. “Drink. Long day.”

Malfoy glanced up at the large clock visible on the top of the village hall, farther down the High Street. “Rather short one, I’d say, actually.”

Sam grimaced. “Long enough for me. And Moody’s been on my back again. Had to get away from him. Barking mad; sees dark wizards everywhere.” He watched Malfoy’s face carefully when he said this. He half-wished Moody would just show up now, firing hexes, but he knew that he'd already gone to Hogwarts to speak to Dumbledore.

Lucius Malfoy smirked at him, and Sam wished he dared to hex him. You bleeding, effing Death Eater, he thought, trying to maintain something close to a pleasant demeanor. I won’t let you destroy my family.

I won’t.

* * * * *

Peter paused, petrified. He could hear the voices on the other side of the door to the Three Broomsticks, the familiar rise and fall of Sam Bell’s voice, the superior drawl of Lucius Malfoy. He couldn’t afford for Sam to see him with Malfoy; even if Bell wasn’t wise to the fact that Malfoy was a Death Eater (something Peter doubted), Sam trusted Peter, and Peter couldn’t afford for that to change, even though he was coming to hate Sam even more than James.

He had taken care of little Harry and Katie while Lily, James, Sam and Trina had gone out together, more than once. He smiled and nodded as they kissed their precious little ones goodbye; he’d practically needed to boot them out of the flat. And he’d been fine with it at first, apart from muttering, “What am I, Mary Poppins?” as he cleaned sick off their chins and porridge off the walls.

What had been worse than being left behind was being included. The seven of them had all gone on a picnic to the park, and Peter had been trying to talk to James about Quidditch (James doing most of the talking) while Trina was playing with the babies and Sam and Lily sat apart, talking about their jobs.

Peter had watched her face, how animated it was when she was speaking to Sam, the way she’d laugh and put her hand on his arm, the way he’d respond with a mischievous grin and a playful tug of her hair.

James had noticed as well, so Peter knew it wasn’t just him having an overactive imagination. Back at their flat that night, while he was curled up on the sofa, trying to get to sleep, Peter had heard them having a row about it. It was impossible not to hear it through the closed bedroom door.

“You’re being ridiculous, James!” she insisted.

“Ridiculous, am I? The way you look at him...And around here it’s always, ‘Sam says this,’ and ‘Sam says that.’ You’d think he was the only other Auror in the Ministry! You never talk about Frank Longbottom that way, or Moody, or any of the women. I’m bloody sick of hearing about SamSamSamSamSam!”

“Well maybe if you ever consented to have a conversation about anything other than Quidditch, I wouldn’t need to talk to Sam so much.”

“Aha!” James cried in triumph.

“What ‘aha?’ I said talk. That’s all we do--talk. Are you implying we’ve ever done anything else?”

“You started off talking to Remus and Snape, too,” he declared.

There was a long pause, then Peter could hear Lily’s voice again, low and dangerous. Peter, for once, wouldn’t have been James for the world at this moment. “How dare you--”

Without warning, the bedroom door had been flung open. Peter feigned sleep, his heart going a mile a minute. She crossed the small sitting room, opening the door to the flat.

“Lily!” James called after her. “Where are you going?” He sounded less adversarial now, and a bit scared.

“For a walk. I need to--to get out of here for a while. Before I say or do something I’ll regret.” She slammed the door and the noise woke little Harry, who started howling in his cot. Peter continued to pretend that he was sleeping through the racket. James went to tend to Harry.

“Ssh, ssh, Harry. everything will be all right. Mummy’s just a bit upset right now. She’ll be back, don’t you worry. Ssh, ssh....”

But Peter thought he didn’t sound very confident of this. What if James was right? What if there was something between Lily and Sam?

Peter seethed, Don’t you touch her, Sam Bell.

In the meantime, he’d continued to give Voldemort the names of people who might be involved with the Prophecy, but the Dark Lord was having everything vetted now by Seers, human and otherwise. After four Death Eaters had been captured by the Ministry while going after some Prophecy candidates later identified as incorrect, Voldemort had explained to Peter, “My servants have better things to do with their time; there are better ways for them to serve me than going to prison.” He had said this after upbraiding Peter yet again for his incorrect information--upbraiding being his having to suffer the Cruciatus Curse again.

Many of the Seers did not even know they were working for the Dark Lord, as he sent his minions to them, rather than going himself. Finally, Peter hit the nail on the head. Draco Malfoy’s birth date made him a Moonchild candidate, and according to someone Voldemort considered to be a reliable Seer, he was the Moonchild. The only catch was that his father was Lucius Malfoy, Death Eater. The Dark Lord did not take it lightly that his servant’s son might contribute to his fall, nor did he hide this from Malfoy.

It had been the first time Peter had seen Malfoy since he was a frightened first year and Malfoy was Head Boy. He tried to hide his trembling as he sat by Voldemort’s right hand, while the Dark Lord spoke to Malfoy about his son’s destiny.

Malfoy’s shaking was barely visible; Peter had to stare at his hand on his snake-headed cane to see it. When he lifted his eyes he saw that Malfoy was glaring venomously at him.

“Oh, don’t blame Wormtail,” the Dark Lord said smoothly. “He heard the Prophecy when it was given and he has identified your son as one of the players in it, but I am not just taking his word for it. I have had a very competent Seer and Astrologer draw up a chart for you son. He is indeed the One--of Three, anyway. Of that there is no doubt.”

Sweat was running down Malfoy’s pasty, pointed face. “Please, M’Lord. I fully intend to raise my son to be your loyal servant...”

Voldemort’s eyes never left Malfoy’s. “You can say that all you like, but at a certain point in his life he will do as he pleases, not as you might like him to do; he could even rebel against everything you do and stand for. I am certainly rebelling against my father with every fiber of my being, every day of my life.

“No, I am not just going to take your word for it, Malfoy. I need more of a guarantee if I am to spare your son. After all, there are two other people in the Prophecy, and they must all act in concert. If even one of them departs this world, the Prophecy is not fulfilled. It does not have to be your son who dies. I will spare your son on one condition....”

“Yes, M’Lord. Anything M’Lord...”

“I will place an Obedience Charm on him. Some of my power will actually be transferred to him as a result. However, when he is older, if I give him a direct order, and he consents to do as I ask, he will do it, if it is possible. And if he refuses--he will die. So raise your boy well, Malfoy. You don’t want him questioning my authority when he’s older, do you?”

“No, M’Lord. Thank you, M’Lord,” he responded, bowing, his voice trembling. Out of the corner of his eye he looked at Peter; the hatred was almost palpable.

“Wise choice, Malfoy. Let us take care of it at once.”

“N-now? M’Lord,” he added hastily.

“The sooner the better,” Voldemort had intoned.

Peter had been somewhat relieved by all of this; he wouldn’t have to name other Moonchildren--especially himself. That was when he had begun to turn over in his mind the possibility of giving Harry’s name to Voldemort, which he'd since done. If Lily and James could be convinced to raise him as Voldemort’s servant, Harry would also receive the Obedience Charm, and Peter could tell Lily how it was his idea to save Harry this way (without revealing that it was he who had given Voldemort Harry’s name in the first place). Lily would be so grateful to him....Yes. It would be a way for him to be her hero, to save her son. She would love him for it....

The problem was, Peter had been a little worried about being the one to talk to Lily about it. What if it backfired? It should be someone else, he decided regretfully, someone very close to her....

Sam.

Sam could convince her, of this Peter was sure. But Peter knew he'd need an incentive first. If other Aurors seemed to be disappearing at random and their families were killed...Sam might be more likely to see the wisdom in complying. So Lucius Malfoy, as the father of the Moonchild, was given the job of putting Sam Bell under Imperius, and Peter was supposed to check on his progress. Sam would then talk Lily into raising Harry as a loyal servant of Voldemort, and Harry would also receive the Obedience Charm. It was better this way, Peter thought. After all, if Peter asked her and she refused, she wouldn’t actually be very well-disposed toward Peter, especially if she learned that it was his idea.

Sam Bell was the key.

* * * * *

“Well, as pleasant as this has been, I am expected at the school, I am on the board of governors, you know,” Malfoy informed Sam archly.

“At your age!” Sam burst out before he could stop himself; they were the same age, after all, only twenty-seven.

“Yes, well I have just purchased over a thousand Galleons-worth of very rare books for the school library, as well as refurbishing the Potions dungeon and the Slytherin common room...” He paused in his bragging and looked down at his feet, then turned back and forth, staring at the ground as though he’d dropped something through a hole in his pocket. However, against Sam’s expectations, he said, “Where the devil is he?” He turned and opened the pub door again, as though he hadn’t just been talking to Sam, but there was no one on the other side very close to the door.

Sam took the open door in hand and entered the pub. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, Malfoy, I came for a drink.”

Lucius Malfoy nodded and watched Sam enter the pub, his eyes cold as ice. “Of course, old chap,” he replied with a mock-jovial lilt to his voice. “Do enjoy your drink,” he added, sounding more than a little sinister now, as though he were planning to poison Sam’s drink from a distance.

Sam strode to the bar, ordering a pint from Madam Rosmerta, pressing his hand to the counter so it would stop shaking. What was Malfoy going to try to get him to do? he wondered. And Malfoy was going up to the school, so he couldn’t go and join Moody now, to talk to Dumbledore. Going up to the school bare-faced as he was, Malfoy must have legitimate business, Sam assumed. Gloating inwardly, he was sure, after what he’d done to Sam at the Leaky Cauldron, and laughing up his sleeve at the way Sam had had to come running for a drink hours before he was supposed to be leaving his job.

Sam raised his glass to his lips and drank, thinking of his wife and daughter. How was he going to get out of this? There had to be a way....

But as he drank and stared at his own haunted eyes in the mirror over the bar, he couldn’t see what the way out might be.

“I don’t blame you,” the mirror said to him in a glum voice. “If I looked as miserable as you I’d be drowning my sorrows, too.”

* * * * *

Tuesday, 16 June, 1981

“Sam!”

Lily dashed into the small cell and stopped short. Sam Bell was sitting on the edge of the pallet, staring at his hands; he didn’t lift his eyes to hers.

“Hello, Lily,” he said to the floor.

She strode across the small space and crouched before him, taking his hands in hers. “What happened, Sam?”

He pulled his hands away, finally lifting his eyes to hers. “That’s already caused enough trouble, Lily,” he said hoarsely.

“What has?” she asked, moving to sit next to him on the pallet. He inched away from her so that their legs were no longer touching.

“Holding hands.”

“What?” she repeated. “Sam, I don’t understand. They’re--they’re saying that you--that you killed Trina.”

Sam swallowed, picturing Trina’s face again, the shock registering on her features as she flew backwards, through the French doors, over the balcony rail, taking the flowerpots with her...

“I disarmed her, but I--I didn’t think about where she was standing, and she--she flew out the window--”

He choked, unable to continue. Lily let a small cry escape her and she put her arm around his shoulder, but he extricated himself again, and she retreated to the far end of the pallet, looking hurt.

“But why did you need to disarm her?”

He raised his eyes to hers. “She had put Cruciatus on Katie.”

Lily gasped. “What? Surely not! Why on earth--?”

“She was under Imperius.”

Lily froze, staring at him in shock. “She was? How do you know? Who did it?”

“Lucius Malfoy.”

Sam remembered Malfoy, just hours before, trying to put Imperius on him again outside the terraced Birmingham house where the Bells lived on the top floor.

“You shall convince Lily Potter to raise her son as the Dark Lord’s servant,” the silky voice had intoned.

Sam felt light as air, carefree and incredibly happy. But a voice at the back of his mind said, No; Lily would never do that. Stupid thing to ask her.

“Did you hear me? You shall convince Lily Potter--”

Right. As if she wouldn’t laugh me out of the room...

“--to raise her son--”

“NO!” he roared, breaking free of the spell.

He had stared into the eyeholes of the mask Malfoy wore; Malfoy was evidently still unaware of the fact that Sam knew who he was. The eyes narrowed.

“What did you say to me?”

“I said no! I will ask Lily no such thing. And--and I know--” But he stopped himself. No. Don’t warn him. Don’t tell him. Let him find out when we raid Malfoy Mansion....

The Death Eater laughed briefly. “Fine. We’ll do it the hard way. You’re her closest friend, you work with her quite frequently. If you won’t listen to me, maybe I can have someone ask you to whom you will pay attention...”

Sam reached for his wand, but Malfoy had already disappeared with a pop! Sam whipped his head around, hoping that no Muggles had seen that. He put his wand away, hoping no one was seeing that, either. Running his hand through his hair, he climbed the steps to front door, a weariness quite consuming him. Why on earth did Malfoy think Lily would ever agree to raise Harry to be a Death Eater? It was absurd. And he was a baby! Why him? Why Harry?

Wearily, he climbed the stairs up to his flat. He could have Apparated to the landing outside their door, but their downstairs neighbor, Mrs. Farley, sometimes came upstairs to ask them to feed her cats, and he didn't like to risk it. He couldn't actually Apparate into the flat, as he'd had anti-Apparition wards put on it, for security. And the fire allowed communication only, not transportation, for similar reasons. As he dragged his weary feet up the stairs he thought how smug he would feel when raiding Malfoy’s house the next day. He’d tell the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office there was something there in which they might be interested, as an excuse to enter, and then they’d have him. He smiled as he climbed the stairs, imagining Lucius Malfoy in Azkaban....

Before turning and beginning to climb the last flight, he thought he heard an odd popping noise above him, and when he reached the door of their flat, he discovered that it wasn't closed all of the way. He'd no sooner pushed it open and entered his home than his wife was thrusting photographs at him and screaming hysterically, “What is the meaning of this?”

“Wha--what?” he sputtered, trying to close the door and work out what was going on. Trina stood in the entry with her arms crossed, tapping her foot, while he turned the photographs around to better see them.

All of them were of him and Lily. They were sitting at a pub table--it looked like it was probably the Leaky Cauldron--and his hand was sandwiched between hers and he was gazing into her eyes. She gazed back and then he lifted one of his hands to push an errant lock of red hair behind one ear, squeezing her hand when he had done that. He looked at the next picture; he and Lily were in a doorway, both of their wands drawn, and his arm was around her, holding her tight to his side. They were looking furtively at something outside the picture. Another photograph showed them holding each other tightly and crying, Sam smoothing her bright hair, her arms around his waist. He looked up at his wife.

“Where did you get these?”

“Never you mind where I got them. I want to know the meaning of this!” Her eyes were wild, but oddly, they weren’t meeting his eyes. He kept trying to look her in the eye, but her gaze kept sliding away.

“The meaning of what? We had lunch in a pub, we were hiding from suspects in a doorway, waiting for a chance to strike and that last one--that could be from just about any one of the many funerals we've gone to in the last few months. You know how it's been. Ruddy awful; just the day before yesterday I was a pallbearer for a seven-year-old...But you know that. Why on earth are people taking photos of me and Lily and trying to make out that--”

But then he noticed the large trunk sitting in the hall. “Trina--what’s this for?”

“I’m leaving!” she cried, her voice rising hysterically.

“Leaving? Why?”

“You’ve seen the bloody photographs! You have to ask why?”

Sam swallowed and ran his hand through his hair. “There’s nothing going on between me and Lily. We’re just friends. Those photographs all have perfectly innocent explanations...”

“Oh, I’m sure they do,” she snorted, still not meeting his gaze. “I’m sure they do.”

“Trina!” he pleaded with her. “Look at me, please. I love you, and I love Katie, and I am not carrying on with Lily Potter.”

She crossed her arms and turned away from him. “I’ll stay on one condition.”

“Anything. Absolutely anything, darling....”

“You shall convince Lily Potter to raise her son as the Dark Lord’s servant,” she said mechanically, in a flat voice that made Sam frown.

“Trina? Oh, god, Trina! Listen to me! Fight it, you’ve got to fight it! Malfoy was here, wasn’t he? He gave you those photos...”

“You shall convince Lily Potter to raise her son as the Dark Lord’s servant...” she chanted again in a singsong.

He shook his head, even though she had her back to him. “No, Trina. Lily would never do that and I would never ask her. Which does not mean that we’re carrying on. She’s my friend, that’s all. Please, Trina. Fight it,” he said softly, desperately, turning her round and clutching at her shoulders.

She shook him off and pulled out her wand, backing up into the living room, where Katie was rolling around on the rug, happily playing with a rag doll. Trina lifted her large dark eyes to his now, but it was like there was nothing there. They were blank and unseeing.

“Do it,” she said, her voice completely like her own.

“No! Fight it, Trina! I love you! You have to fight!”

Katie was gurgling with glee, oblivious to the odd behavior of her parents. Trina looked down at her and a disturbing smile slid across her face. Without looking at her husband, she said, “Do it if you want Katie to be safe.”

Sam’s jaw dropped. “What? That madman has told you to hurt our daughter?”

“Do it!”

“NO! I won’t!”

He wasn’t prepared for it for a moment; she pointed her wand at Katie, his precious little Katie, crying the dreaded word: “Crucio!”

A blood-curdling scream was pulled from the child for a second that felt like an eternity; Sam’s insides clenched and, without even considering any other course of action, he drew his wand and pointed it at his wife, shouting, “Expelliarmus!”

Sam bent over, his head in his hands, his own voice echoing inside his head, wishing Lily would leave him alone with his grief, shame and guilt. He couldn’t tell her what had really occurred, he just couldn’t. She would blame herself then, and it wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault but Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

Lily was silent for a while. Finally, she said, “So. Lucius Malfoy just walked up to--”

“No. I never saw his face. But I know it was him.”

“What do you mean you never saw his face?”

“He was wearing a mask.”

Lily sighed, then rose and began pacing, wringing her hands. “Sam--that won’t stand up in court. We need something that can be compelling evidence concerning who made Trina torture Katie....Although I’ll testify on your behalf, as a character witness, and so will loads of others. You have an excellent record in the department. At the trial--”

Sam shook his head. “No trial.”

She stopped abruptly. “What do you mean, ‘no trial?’”

He lifted his face to her. “Do--do you have any parchment with you? And a quill?”

She hesitated, then drew what he needed from her pocket. He got down on his knees, spreading the parchment on the stone floor, the quill scratching away while Lily paced and muttered names of people who could testify for him. Surely he was going to have a trial--they’d never send an Auror to prison without a trial.

But then Lily saw that he wasn’t writing down the list of names she was reciting. “Accio parchment!” she cried, making it fly across the cell and into her hand. She glanced at it, appalled.

“Sam! This is a confession!”

He nodded. “Yes. You don’t need a trial when there’s a signed confession. I’ve already put my name to that.”

She glanced down at it, looking very confused. “But--but you didn’t mean to--”

“You know the law as well as I do, Lily. There are loads of spells besides the Killing Curse that can cause death. If you cast a spell that results in someone’s death--”

“But what about Katie?”

He sighed. “We’ve already drawn up a will. Did it soon after Katie was born. We named Trina’s aunt as her guardian, should neither of us be in a position to raise her. She divides her time between London and Hogsmeade. Goes up north, generally, for the summer. Nice and cool there much of the time, comparatively speaking....” He couldn’t believe he was talking about the weather. His Trina was dead and he had killed her.

“Sam--you--you have to have a trial....”

“Not if I don’t want to. Not if I sign a confession.” He nodded at the parchment in her hand. She held it up angrily.

“I’ll rip it up!” she declared. He gave a small rueful laugh.

“Go ahead, Lily. I’ll write another. And another....”

He closed his eyes, still crouched on the floor. How could this have happened? What was going on?

She crouched next to him. “Sam. You can’t do this. Does this have anything to do with--”

“No,” he said quickly, his voice hard. She cannot know how involved in this she is. “Just--just do me a favor, Lily.”

“What?”

“Raise Harry to be a good man. Like James. Oh, I know he was a rascal in school, but--”

She nodded. “Yes. Of course. Why are you telling me this now?”

He pulled his lips into a line. “It’s important. Promise me, Lily. Please.”

She nodded again. “All right. I promise,” she said softly.

He pointed to the parchment. “Please have my confession registered,” he asked now, his throat feeling completely parched. He could barely get the words out. She nodded yet again and left without another word, while he curled into a ball on the floor and wept for the life he had taken, the life he had lost, and the life his daughter would have without her parents, all thanks to Lucius Malfoy.

* * * * *

“Oh, James!”

She had just popped into the living room and, seeing him sitting on the couch, she ran to him and threw her arms around him, crying disconsolately.

“How--how’s Sam?” he asked tentatively, not confident of a cheerful answer. She had talked to him by Floo about what had happened, before she’d gone to talk to Sam. He was glad Peter had gone to visit his mum; they could speak more freely than when he was in the flat.

“They gave him ten years,” she said thickly, sniffing.

“Already! How did they organize a trial, and witnesses--”

“No trial.”

“No trial!” He stared. “Why not?”

“He signed a confession.”

They were both silent for a while. “One Auror’s family after another....devastated. What’s to become of all of us?” Lily whispered forlornly, her head on James’ shoulder. He stroked her hair, shivering.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, looking down into her eyes, his heart in his throat. He wanted to ask her to stop, to quit, to do anything else but be an Auror--but he dared not. The decision had to come from her. He didn’t say anything because he thought she might be close to making just such a decision, and if he indicated that he was in favor of her quitting, he was afraid she’d decide to do just the opposite....

They prepared for bed in silence, but when he had extinguished the lights, James found Lily reaching for him with a desperation that he hadn’t expected. They lay together afterward, her head on his chest as was their wont, while he traced gentle circles on her shoulder.

“Maybe we’ll have another baby,” she whispered in the dark. “A little sister for Harry, perhaps.” James grunted noncommittally. He was still afraid to speak, afraid of what would come tumbling out of his mouth. She was silent for a while before saying, “I love you, James.”

He kissed her forehead, trying not to hide his relief that they weren’t going to be getting into any protracted conversations about her career. He whispered back, “I know, love. And I love you.”

“Do you know? I mean--yes, I’m upset about Sam. But you do realize that you and Harry mean more to me than any friend ever could? You know that, I hope?”

She sat up, looking at him intently. He couldn’t see her face in the darkness but he could hear the catch in her voice. He cupped her cheek with his hand.

“I’m sorry I was jealous of Sam, Lily. Truly. I don’t know what came over me. I just--I still wonder sometimes how it is you’re with me, and then I don’t feel safe, I suppose, as though I might blink and discover it was all a dream....”

She leaned down to kiss him, then whispered close to his lips, “I’m the one who should be wondering why you’re with me, silly....”

He pulled her mouth back to his, kissing her deeply, feeling his desire for her start to move through his body again, but a split second later, Harry started fretting in his cot, and she pulled away reluctantly. She slipped into a dressing gown and went to the baby, cooing to him as she changed his nappy and then settling comfortably with him in the rocking chair, as he tugged at her breast and she gazed down at his contented face. James watched them both, feeling the fragility of the life they shared and thinking of poor Sam Bell, going off to spend ten years in Azkaban, his wife dead and his daughter as good as orphaned.

Nothing will ever separate us, he swore to himself, watching Lily and the baby.

Nothing.

* * * * *

Wednesday, 1 July, 1981

Severus pushed his lank hair out of his face and continued measuring out powdered dragon-scale for Madam Marsh. He thought longingly of being on the deck of the Patricia, as he had been the previous night. The dingy apothecary was stifling, all of the windows closed and the smell emanating from the combined potions ingredients forming a miasma powerful enough that Severus had had to resort to breathing through his mouth after putting a spell on his nose to stuff it up.

Only a minute after bidding Madam Marsh good day, the door to the shop opened again, admitting another blinding beam of sunlight into the tenebrous room. Silhouetted in this beam of light was a tall wizard in a pointed hat; from what Severus could see he had a rather long white beard and hair. Severus’ breath caught as he realized who the new customer was.

Albus Dumbledore walked slowly toward the counter, making his way around the barrels of beetle eyes, bat wings and bicorn horns. He smiled gently at the young man he’d come to see.

“Hello, Severus. I received your owl. I am sorry I was not in my office when you came to see me. I had urgent business at the Ministry.”

Severus swallowed, his eyes flicking nervously toward the door. He hadn’t expected Dumbledore to come to Dunoon; he’d hoped to receive an owl in return.

“Ah, worried about someone seeing us together? I quite understand.” He flicked his hand at the grimy window and the sign which showed the public that the shop was open flipped over, and Severus heard the bolt slide home in the door, locking it.

“Where is your uncle?”

“At the dock, seeing to--various things. I don’t expect him to return soon. I was to be in charge of the shop this afternoon.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Very good. Shall we go up to the flat, so we can sit down and have a civilized conversation?”

Severus nodded and led the way to the door that concealed the stairs. In the flat, he waved his former headmaster to a comfortable chair and asked whether he’d like some tea.

“Sit, Severus. Let me take care of that.” With a wave of his hand, a tea tray appeared in the air before him. When they each had a cup in hand, Dumbledore regarded the young man before him quite seriously.

“So. What is this trouble you’ve got yourself into, Severus? You weren’t very specific in your letter.”

“I--I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know where to start--”

Dumbledore nodded and gave him a small smile. “Let’s try the beginning,” he said quietly, his blue eyes twinkling kindly behind his half-moon spectacles.

Severus swallowed, then began slowly. “In--in my seventh year, I was recruited to be a Death Eater.”

Dumbledore nodded and looked back at him quite calmly. “Who did this?”

Severus bit his lip. Would he be believed? “Lucius Malfoy.”

Dumbledore nodded again, as though this were no surprise. “Continue.”

“I--I didn’t need to do anything at first. Be available,” he lied, afraid that his old headmaster would cease to believe him if he said that his job was to recruit Barty Crouch’s son as a Death Eater as well.

“I assume that that changed, or we would not be having this conversation,” Dumbledore said quietly.

Severus drew his mouth into a line and nodded. “The Dark Lord became aware of--of a prophecy. Concerning him.”

Dumbledore’s eyes lit up. “Ah, so he knows about that, does he?”

Severus’ eyes also opened quite wide. “You know about it?”

“The person who gave the prophecy....she was at Hogwarts, you know. When it was given.”

Now Severus’ mouth was open as well. “No--I didn’t know.” They were silent for a few moments. “The thing is--he’s been trying to find out who the people in the prophecy are. He’s been getting this Death Eater to work it out for him--but he was naming a lot of wrong people. A lot of the killings you’ve probably been hearing about....” He swallowed. Dumbledore leaned forward.

“You are perfectly safe here, Severus. I promise you that.”

He shook his head. “I--I haven’t killed anyone. Not--personally. But--but I stood by--and I cast the Dark Mark into the sky over the houses afterward....”

Dumbledore looked as though he was choosing his words very carefully. “Can you tell me who did do the killing, Severus?”

He looked at the old man, his heart in his throat. “I could,” he said slowly. “But I’d be killed.”

Dumbledore nodded. “I am of course ready to offer you sanctuary at Hogwarts....”

Severus bowed his head slightly. “And--and I may take you up on that, eventually. But--there’s something a little more important I need to speak to you about. It’s not about people who’ve already died, people who can’t be helped. It’s about someone whose death can be prevented....”

Dumbledore sat up straight, clearly very interested. “Go on,” he said urgently.

“It’s--it’s Lily’s son. Lily Evans. Potter,” he said quickly, hating the name. “Lily Potter’s son. The Dark Lord believes him to be one of the people in the prophecy.”

Dumbledore looked like he understood everything and needed no more. “Ah. I see.”

“Lily and her son--and Potter too, I reckon--need to be taken off somewhere safe. They should also know--one of their friends is a traitor. One of them is working for the Dark Lord.”

He’d never seen the headmaster of Hogwarts look so interested in anything he had to say. “Who is it?”

Severus shook his head. “I don’t know. I probably shouldn’t even know that much. If only I had some way of being in the room when the Dark Lord is speaking with him, without his knowing I’m there....”

Dumbledore shook his head. “No. You don’t want to be in the room. You want to be able to follow the traitor when he leaves. Voldemort--” Severus winced at the name, but the headmaster went on; “--he has ways of feeling that people are present....” He looked thoughtful.

Severus had a sudden thought. “Potter’s Invisibility Cloak!”

Dumbledore frowned. “What?”

“Potter has an Invisibility Cloak. I saw--saw him take it off once. This is to protect his family. Surely he’d let me borrow it?”

Dumbledore looked very grim. “Better let me go to him with these concerns and ask to use it. Don’t worry,” he added, putting his hand up to forestall Severus’ objection. “I’ll really be acquiring it for your use. But James needn’t know that. Do you really think he’d let you, of all people, borrow his Invisibility Cloak? Although,” he added thoughtfully, “that explains a great many things he was able to get up to when he was at school...”

“Of course, sir,” Severus said, swallowing, hardly believing that he’d consented to be a spy. But when he’d heard about Lily’s son....when he thought about them coming after her too....And what if he’d been required to do it? What if he’d been told to put the Killing Curse on her, or her son? If it were Potter, he thought he could manage it....but then again, James Potter had saved his life. It was a debt that rankled. Well, he thought stubbornly, after this the debt will be paid, Potter. You saved my life; I’ll do what I can to save your worthless life and Lily and her son.

“When do you think you will have need of the cloak, Severus?”

He thought about it. “I never know when I’m going to be summoned. Better for me to have it as soon as possible.”

Dumbledore nodded. “I’ll go to James. I believe the Montrose Magpies have a game tomorrow night against the Wigtown Wanderers. They’re no Puddlemere United, mind you, but you can’t have everything....”

Severus stood, uncertain what to do. The headmaster also stood. “Thank you, sir. Thank you for believing me. I won’t let you down.”

Dumbledore nodded at him. “See that you don’t,” he said, surprising Severus. The old man extended his hand to him and Severus took it. When he had released his hand, Dumbledore said, “I’ll let myself out. I don’t like to Apparate into someone’s home; terribly rude, I think, but Disapparating to leave seems perfectly civilized to me, don’t you think so?” he said pleasantly, as thought they hadn’t just been discussing Severus spying on Voldemort.

“Yes, sir. I see what you--”

And, not making a sound, Dumbledore was gone.

* * * * *

Tuesday, 27 July, 1981

Severus Snape appeared on a vivid green hillside in the Welsh countryside. A little way off, he saw the cottage. It was stone, with a thatched roof. As he drew nearer he saw that it had picturesque diamond-paned leaded windows with flowered curtains, red-painted flower boxes overflowing with plantings. He swallowed, remembering his fantasies of being married to Lily, trying not to think of James Potter living the life he thought he’d been meant to have. He put his hand on the latch for the garden gate, hesitating. Flagstones bisected the cottage garden, leading from the gate to the red-painted front door. It had a golden lion’s head for a knocker, he noticed. How Gryffindor, he thought, then tried to push this thought away. We’re not in school. We’re adults. We can talk like adults. But suddenly, all he could think of was, Lily is behind that door. He opened the gate and slowly walked to the door, raising the knocker once, twice, then waiting patiently. When it opened, Severus was unprepared for the sight of Lily standing before him, looking just as she had in school, holding a baby on her hip who bore a most unfortunate resemblance to James Potter, except for having Lily’s vivid green eyes.

Lily looked surprised to see him. “Severus! I--what are you doing here?”

His face was very serious. “I need to speak to you Lily. It’s very important.”

She stood silently, bouncing the baby up and down to pacify him. He was waving his arms about and gurgling, then started struggling.

“Down!” he said, still struggling. “Down down down down...”

She gave in, placing him carefully on the smooth tiled floor, on his bare feet, and he went running into the cottage, wobbling back and forth. She was wearing a summery dress and Severus tried not to stare. Memories of their times together in the dungeons came flooding back, memories of her skin beneath his hands....

He shook himself mentally, trying to concentrate on the present. The child was walking already; he hadn’t realized he might already be that advanced. Severus had no idea what babies were supposed to do at various times in their development. As he looked at Lily, the one girlfriend he'd ever had, he wondered whether he'd ever learn about this first-hand.

“Severus, I don’t think you should be here.” She didn’t say that they were running away from anything, but he knew that until recently they lived in a flat in Cardiff. Dumbledore had said he would recommend their moving to the old Potter cottage, their summer place before they were killed in James’ fifth year. He knew that Dumbledore had told them that they were in danger, but he also knew that he hadn’t told them the real reason. Lily had told Dumbledore that because she was an Auror, she was worried that she and her family might be targeted. So she’d taken a leave from work and Potter was attending fewer practices, whatever he could get away with, and they’d moved with their son to the country. James Potter was attending a Montrose practice today, however, and that meant Lily would be home alone.

“Please, Lily; hear me out. May I come in?” He hoped he could keep his voice from shaking.

She looked reluctant, but finally stepped aside and allowed him to enter. The cottage was divided in half, roughly, with the sitting room taking up one half and bedrooms, seen through open doorways, on the other. A doorway in the rear of the sitting room revealed a kitchen addition. Lily sat on a couch that was perpendicular to the empty fireplace. Severus settled uncertainly into a chair on the other side of the hearth, while the baby climbed up onto the couch next to Lily and starting flicking at her earring with his fingers.

“Ouch! Harry, stop. Go play; Mummy has to talk to her friend.”

Her friend. Hopefully she really did believe he was a friend. He remembered the way he’d torn up the letter she’d written to him. Not for the first time, he wondered, Could we have got past that? Did I really have to be so stubborn and proud?

But the small child did not get down from the couch. He sat back next to his mother, sticking his lower lip out, pouting. Suddenly, they heard what was unmistakably the sound of a car; they both found themselves sitting up and staring at the door, and only when the knocker came in contact with the painted wood did Severus realize, Death Eaters don’t knock, or drive cars. It’s nothing to worry about.

Lily looked like she’d been a bit on-edge when she’d heard the car, too. She sighed and rose to answer it, saying, “Excuse me for a minute, Severus.” She left him alone with the baby; Severus eyed him suspiciously, not knowing what to expect from him. He was unaccustomed to being around babies. He tried to think of a spell that would help if the child became--too friendly.

Lily was standing at the open front door, holding the edge tightly, her knuckles quite white, as though she would slam it any second. A somewhat shrill voice cut through the thick summer heat, chilling him.

“Lily, Mum needs you to do this! I don’t care if it’s illegal! Isn’t it enough that Daddy died in that traffic accident last year? She’s all we have left!”

It was Lily’s sister, he realized. Her father died last year? She didn’t say anything.... Then he realized that she hadn’t confided in him for a very long time. She used to talk to him quite a lot about her mother’s cancer. It sounded as though her sister was trying to get Lily to cure her.

He could glimpse the sister if he leant over a bit, to see around Lily, standing in the doorway. He knew that Petunia Dursley was a half-dozen years older than Lily, and that she’d been in the wedding party (although the only one he’d looked at that day was Lily, so he didn’t really have a memory of her sister). She looked a bit horsier than he expected, and far older than twenty-seven. Lily sounded as though she’d had this conversation with her sister before, and it hadn’t sunk in then either.

“Petunia, there’s a reason why the magical community tries to keep Muggles from knowing about what we can do. And I’m not even sure that I could help mother, even if I didn’t care about breaking the law! When witches and wizards get cancer, they usually immediately remove the cancerous cells by magic, or transfigure them, but you said Mum has it all through her! How could I remove it without killing her? And I’m not permitted to, anyway. Petunia, we can only prepare ourselves for the inevitable...”

Lily’s sister’s voice shook. “I will prepare. You can stay here. Don’t bother coming to the funeral. You won’t be welcome. Not when you could have saved her and refused. What’s the point of you being a witch if you won’t save her? You know what you are, and that husband of yours? Unnatural. Abnormal. How can you not save your own mother? It’s just--” But the severe-looking woman couldn’t continue; she buried her face in a handkerchief and turned away from the cottage door.

“Petunia--” Lily pleaded, but Severus hear the clicking, retreating footsteps, the garden gate slamming shut, a car starting up again. Lily returned to the couch after slowly and quietly closing the door.

She raised her eyes to Severus as he said, “I’m sorry if this is a bad time, Lily, but--”

“My mother is dying and I can’t do a damn thing about it and my sister hates me because of it. Is that your definition of a bad time, Severus? Because that is my definition of an absolutely shitty time, thank you very much.” Severus didn’t know what to say. First she was afraid that her family was being targeted, so she moved to the country and all but quit her job, now she finds that being in hiding is preventing her from being at her mother’s bedside. Tears were flowing silently down her cheeks. The child had gone into his room; he was playing on the floor with some blocks and stuffed toys.

Severus and Lily sat opposite each other, looking down, not speaking. Finally, he said softly, “I came here to--to warn you that the Dark Lord will be coming for you. Well, actually, for Harry...”

She looked up at him, perplexed. “What are you talking about? Harry? What could he possibly want with Harry?” He knew that she was confused because Dumbledore had only mentioned their being in danger because of her being an Auror; this was the first time she was hearing about any danger to her son.

Severus glanced toward the nursery, frowning; the child was arranging some stuffed toys in a row, an impromptu parade. He looked back at Lily.

“The Dark Lord keeps careful track of omens and signs. A seeress has predicted his downfall--she gave a prophecy which some centaurs helped interpret. The centaurs have pinpointed two of the three people involved...”

“Severus! You’re not making any sense. What is this prophecy?”

He frowned. “Let me see if I remember all of it: The Dark Lord will be defeated by a triangle: a lion, a Moonchild and a flame-haired daughter of war...”

“And Harry is--?”

“Evidently, he is the lion. He is a Leo, correct?”

“Yes, but so is James. Harry was born a week before his birthday; James called it his early birthday present,” she smiled feebly. “Who is the Moonchild supposed to be?”

“A family named Malfoy had a son last year a few weeks before Harry was born.” He bit his tongue for a moment, before he could reveal that Malfoy was a Death Eater. That would just distract her. “July seventh. Which makes him a Cancer. Those born under that sign are also called Moonchildren. I know because I’m also a Cancer.”

“And the flame-haired daughter of war?”

“The centaurs are still working on that one. The confusing thing is, some of the centaurs think that there are doppelgangers for each of the people in the prophecy. They think that the Dark Lord will be defeated twice, that there are two sets of people who fulfill the prophecy...”

“Defeated twice? Defeated means defeated, doesn’t it?”

“That’s why it’s confusing...But the Malfoys have struck a deal. They are promising to raise their son to be a servant of the Dark Lord. He has promised not to kill the child, for now. I came to plead with you, Lily. Strike a deal. Save yourselves and Harry. Don’t try to fight--you can’t win.” He almost choked on the words, worried about how risky Dumbledore’s plan was. Get the Dark Lord to believe that he will be making Harry Potter his servant, then ambush him....But Lily and James couldn’t know that was the purpose, or Voldemort would be able to tell they were lying. It was a balancing act.

“What? That’s why you came here? To tell me to raise my son to be Voldemort’s servant?” Severus drew in his breath at the sound of the name. “How do you know all of these things, Severus? I thought you were working at an apothecary in Dunoon. How do you know about prophecies, and Voldemort coming after us? How?” She had stood and was pacing around the room nervously. She glanced into the nursery; Harry had fallen asleep on the rug, his head pillowed on a stuffed bear. She went to him and picked him up so she could put him in his cot, but the movement woke him and he fussed. She shushed him, setting him down, giving him his bear. And then she sang to him.

Sleep, my baby, on my bosom,
Warm and cozy, it will prove,
Round thee mother’s arms are folding,
In her heart a mother’s love.
There shall no one come to harm thee,
Naught shall ever break thy rest;
Sleep, my darling babe, in quiet,
Sleep on mother’s gentle breast.

Sleep serenely, baby, slumber,
Lovely baby, gently sleep;
Tell me wherefore art thou smiling,
Smiling sweetly in thy sleep?
Do the angels smile in heaven
When thy happy smile they see?
Dost thou on them smile while slumb’ring
On my bosom peacefully.

Severus listened to her, trying to shut out of his head an image he’d nurtured when he was younger, of Lily, rocking their child to sleep...When the lullaby was over, she closed the nursery door quietly, and he was surprised to see her turn to face him with blazing eyes.

“You’re one of them, aren’t you? You’re a Death Eater.” Her voice was cold and assured. He tried not to open his mouth in shock, but he thought his face probably gave him away anyway. Does she think I’ve come to kill her? he wondered. He knew he had to admit the truth.

“I was--but I’m not now, Lily. You must believe me! I was recruited at the end of my seventh year at Hogwarts, and for two years I was--cultivating a son of an official who is very high up in the Ministry of Magic...” She looked shocked. He swallowed; he hadn’t even told Dumbledore this. “But then I heard about this prophecy, and you and James and Harry being targeted. I went to see Dumbledore, and he--he understood why I did what I did, and promised me I would not be punished, that I could be a spy, I could be useful." It wasn't worth mentioning, he felt, that when he'd first gone to see Dumbledore he hadn't been at Hogwarts. "I haven’t hurt anyone, Lily.” I’ve stood by and watched young Barty Crouch kill, however.... “I recruited one young man who was angry with his father, and if it hadn’t been me, it would have been someone else who recruited him. Please--promise me you’ll say that you’ll raise Harry to serve the Dark Lord. You don’t have to mean it! Just say it! Save your life--Harry’s life--James’ life. Do whatever is necessary...” As he continued, he began to realize that it was all falling on deaf ears. She would never do anything he suggested.

She glared at him with complete and utter hatred in her eyes.

“Get out.”

“Lily--”

“Get out now! Before I seriously hurt you...”

Severus swallowed. “If you won’t cooperate, at least promise me you’ll go into hiding. Find a safe place.”

“Oh, we’ll go into hiding, all right. Do you think we’d stay here, where you know where to find us? I can’t believe you and I ever--ever--” she trailed off, looking sickened.

He swallowed, seeing her so repulsed by him. Why did I ever let you go? How could I have let my pride be so important? “Please, Lily. Don’t push me away. I want to help.”

But he was the last person from whom she was going to accept help. Now she had her wand in her hand; she looked angry enough to do the Killing Curse. “I said get out. While you still only have two arms and two legs.” Severus did not think it was an idle threat. She had become a formidable witch and Auror.

He rose and left reluctantly, waiting until he was in the garden to Disapparate, watching her as she stood in the doorway of the picturesque little cottage.

She never lowered her wand.

* * * * *

Severus sat at the bar at the Leaky Cauldron, holding a glass with a very small amount of firewhiskey in the bottom. Suddenly the back door to Diagon Alley opened and Albus Dumbledore entered. He wore a grey traveling cloak over black robes; the cloak’s hood was up, so that all that could be seen of his head was a sliver of his face, nonetheless recognizable. His spectacles glinted in the flickering candlelight and firelight in the pub. Severus could not see his eyes.

Dumbledore’s nod to old Tom behind the bar was almost imperceptible. Tom gave an infinitesimal nod in return, and Dumbledore quietly proceeded down a corridor to one of the private dining rooms. Severus put a silver Sickle on the bar and, carrying his glass, walked quietly down the same corridor. He went into the same room as Dumbledore, hoping no one at the bar had noticed this.

The headmaster was seated at a dining table in the parlor; he had taken down his hood, revealing a grim expression. Severus sat next to him but did not look at the old man. He contemplated the glass he’d brought with him for a moment before downing the rest of the firewhiskey, unable to stop a small gasp from escaping his lips, which he had to pull back from his teeth in response to the way the firewhiskey burnt his throat. He put the glass down with a thunk, still not looking at Dumbledore. Another silence followed.

“Should you be drinking that?” Dumbledore suddenly asked him.

Severus shifted his eyes toward Dumbledore but did not move his head at all. “No. Bad for my liver.” He traced the rim of the empty glass with one long, pale finger.

Dumbledore finally broke his silence. “How did it go?”

Severus tilted the glass, gazing into it, wishing he had more. “Not well.” He stared at a spot on the wall. “I told her about the prophecy,” he said quietly. “She didn’t believe me. But she understands that the Dark Lord believes it, that they’re in danger. I think they’re going into hiding. She--knows that I was recruited. I tried to tell her I wasn’t Dark anymore, but she kicked me out...”

Dumbledore put his hand on Snape’s arm. “I know you’re fine, Severus. I will vouch for you before anyone who doubts that. There is a charm that will help them hide--the Fidelius Charm. I’ll contact Sirius Black about it. He’ll need to be in on it. They’re closer to him than to Pettigrew. And Remus...”

“He’s a werewolf! Do you know how many werewolves are serving him now? They’re flocking to him.”

Dumbledore sighed. “I’d like to believe Remus wouldn’t do that--” he began, but he looked doubtful. “You go back to Dunoon, Severus. You’ve done what you can. If you hear anything, you know where to find me.”

He stood abruptly and Disapparated without a sound.

* * * * *

Wednesday, 29 September, 1981

Lily stared out the window at the garden, her hand over her belly. She watched Dumbledore Disapparate silently, wishing she could feel the baby moving already. It was so comforting when she could first feel Harry; he had been engaged in such acrobatics inside her that she’d been convinced that she had another Quidditch player on her hands and he was already practicing flying. James had laughed at the idea.

She gazed at the now-empty garden; she couldn’t get used to living in the country again, so far from the conveniences of Cardiff. Godric’s Hollow was beautiful, but sometimes she had to get out of the cottage and walk through the woods; something about the little house gave her an odd feeling, made the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. She couldn’t put her finger on it.

Without turning to look at her husband, she said, “Do you think he took it well? Our saying that we didn’t want him to be the Secret Keeper? It was rather nice of him to offer...”

James was sitting on the couch, tickling Harry, making him giggle uncontrollably. “He agreed with us; since that spy of his told him that one of our friends is a traitor, if we didn’t ask one of them to be the Secret Keeper, it would look fishy. Anyway, we thanked him for telling us about the Fidelius Charm. And he even said himself that he’s keeping his ear to the ground--”

“--or his spy is,” she said, wondering about this.

“Right. His spy is. And he’ll tell us as soon as we really need to panic, as soon as we should enact the charm. He says that we’re in no immediate danger, that since Harry’s a baby, You-Know-Who isn’t exactly in a tearing hurry.”

“But he’ll want to do it soon,” she said, turning to him. “While he’s still helpless,” she said with a catch in her voice, watching James playing with Harry. The room filled with the music of baby laughter and she couldn’t help but smile, especially when Harry grabbed a fistful of his father’s hair and James’ face contorted into a bizarre combination of pain and delight, as he didn’t want to frighten Harry by screaming in agony.

“Do you need help?” she asked him, laughing, but before he bothered to answer, she crossed the room and prised the chubby little fingers from James’ messy hair, so exactly like Harry's but even more abundant.

James sighed with relief, but a moment later he made a dreadful face. “Eeew. Stinky Harry,” he said, holding the laughing child at arm’s length. “Maybe Mummy can take care of that--?” he said, looking hopefully at Lily. She rolled her eyes and took Harry from him.

While she was cleaning him, he gave several rather large yawns and rubbed his eyes with his little fists, making her heart turn over. When she was done, she held him and rocked him to sleep for his nap, even though they’d managed to train him to go to sleep on his own, finally. She just wanted to hold him, to feel the warm little body against hers, to hear the soft breath sounds and watch the rise and fall of his chest. When she thought about what had happened to Sam and his family, she felt somehow that everything she cared most about was unspeakably fragile, and every moment she was with James or Harry had to be savored. You have to live to see your new little sister, she told him silently.

After she put him into his cot, gently removing his thumb from his mouth, she closed the nursery door softly and went to the kitchen, where James had made a pot of tea. As he poured for her, she murmured, “Thanks,” holding the hot cup between her trembling hands, the warmth comforting her and calming her. She thought again of the news Dumbledore had brought them and she looked at James, who seemed to be thinking about it too; his face was very white. How can one of our friends be a traitor? she thought. It had only been a week earlier that they’d all been gathered in the cottage to celebrate Sirius’ birthday, only a week earlier that they were oblivious to having had a traitor under their roof. Lily wracked her brains, trying to remember whether anyone’s behavior had seemed off or out-of-character.

Lily had been glad to see Remus, and had wanted to have time to talk to him, to find out how he was; every time she’d seen him since Emil’s murder, he’d looked so forlorn. She was very worried about him. But Cecilia wouldn’t let her have time alone to talk to Remus; she’d cornered Lily in the kitchen for the purpose, it seemed to her, of having a row. Cecilia had come with Sirius, as they were seeing each other again after a separation of several months. Cecilia had told Lily that Sirius still fancied her, as though it was an accusation and Lily had actually done something to lead him on, which she’d told Cecilia she hadn’t. Cecilia hadn’t seemed satisfied about this and even suggested that perhaps it wasn’t just Harry who was in danger--perhaps James was, too, because if both of them were disposed of, Lily would be on her own.

“James in danger? From Sirius?” she had said to her erstwhile best friend, incredulous. “If that’s what you think of him, why are you seeing him again?”

Cecilia’s eyes had gone wide at that. “Oh, trying to talk me out of seeing him for some reason?” she said suspiciously, making Lily throw up her hands. She just couldn’t seem to get the hang of friendships with women. The loss of Sam suddenly felt even more painful, and she was determined to redouble her efforts to go off and talk to Remus.

“From Sirius what?” came a sardonic voice from the doorway of the kitchen. Sirius stood surveying the two of them with interest, as though quite amused that the pair of them might have been discussing him. Lily and Cecilia had both clamped their mouths shut, but despite her having implied to Cecilia that the very idea of Sirius being the traitor was utterly ludicrous, she couldn’t deny that she was watching Sirius very carefully, especially after he’d gone and Cecilia had told her about some very suspicious things he’d done, things which had convinced her that he still fancied Lily rotten--including something about how inconvenient Harry was sometimes, as he monopolized so much of Lily’s time.

We should leave Harry with someone we trust, like Aunt Othalie, and go away, pretending we’re taking him with us....On the other hand, if we do that and someone finds out where he really is, or if they think we've got him and they kill us....Lily met her husband’s eye, her heart in her throat.

“Oh, god,” she said. “Harry. If anything happens to us--Harry--”

James nodded. “Right. Good point. I mean, who’s to say we can trust this spy? What if the spy is either lying to Dumbledore, being fed false information because You-Know-Who knows he’s a spy, or is just plain wrong? What if we’re the targets, not Harry? We need to make sure that it’s all taken care of. We’ll go to my dad’s old solicitor first thing in the morning. He’s ancient, but that’s why he’s good; he trained up under a wizard who knew both Muggle and wizarding law, and so did the solicitor he read law with, and so on, going back for generations. We should have done this already, made sure there was something in writing about this, but it’s so hard to think about--about the possibility of--”

Lily nodded. “Yes, of course it is. But what will he say when we tell him that he’s not the one named in the papers? Do you think he’ll know that we suspect that he’s the traitor?”

James frowned at her. “Why should he expect to be named Harry’s guardian?”

“Why? Because even though you didn’t bother to consult me about it, Sirius is his godfather. It’s the usual sort of thing, isn’t it?”

James dropped his jaw. “You think the traitor is Sirius?”

She drew her mouth into a line. “Who were you talking about when you said, ‘Why should he expect to be named Harry’s guardian?’ Surely you don’t mean Peter....”

James spluttered, “Peter? A Death Eater? Only if he grew a spine, perhaps. I meant Remus, of course. Who else?”

“Remus!” she exclaimed. “Oh, come on, you can’t actually believe--”

“Why not? Have you seen the Prophet? About all of the werewolves flocking to serve Voldemort now?”

She glared at her husband with a clenched jaw. “You mean that dreck written by that Skeeter woman? He would never do that and you know it. That’s complete rubbish. He’s one of your dearest friends in the world! How can you think he’d do such a thing?”

“How can you think it’s Sirius? He’s like a brother to me! Remus, on the other hand--”

She glared. “What?” she practically growled at him, feeling very protective of Remus, as though she was back in the cell at the Ministry and Frank Longbottom, not her husband, was the one at whom she was screaming.

James swallowed, seeing how fierce she looked. Well, he knew she was opinionated, and in general he thought that was appealing, her strength of mind. But right now....

“Well, I admit that the three of us--Sirius, Peter and I--could have been better friends to him since leaving school. We could have spent more full moons with him. He seems so separate from us all now. Perhaps it’s our fault. Peter’s been living with us off and on, although not since we moved out here, and we see Sirius quite a lot....But until the party last week, I can’t even tell you the last time I saw Remus. And--I don’t want to alarm you, Lily, but did you know he was accused of murder? Maybe the case didn’t land on your desk because they knew you were, um, connected with him....”

Lily bit her tongue, wanting to know how James had heard about that. But she didn’t dare ask. “I’ve had lunch with Remus about once a month, because I’ve made an effort to contact him. And yes, I heard about the charges against him,” she said, “and the evidence pointed to someone else, who was subsequently caught. He was acquainted with the victim and it was obvious that it was a werewolf killing, so Remus was brought in for questioning. He was very broken up about it, you know. His friend was killed and he was being called a murderer! Not that you’d know about the friends Remus has made since we finished school,” she added, finding it very hard at this point not to reveal Remus’ secret.

James ran his fingers through his hair, which was already standing on end, as usual. There was no discernible difference. “I know you think it’s our fault, Lily, that the three of us should be making time for him during the full moon. I’m not disagreeing with that. It’s true. But it’s not like he’s come round much asking us to join him on those nights, either. He seems to have become quite self-sufficient.” James couldn’t deny that he felt a pang of guilt; they’d gone through so much to become Animagi. What was it for now?

“He doesn’t want to impose!” she said, frustrated with this line of reasoning. “And he did ask you on the night his friend was killed. Or the night after, rather. It wasn’t your fault you had a match to play, but still....Do you honestly think he prefers the Ministry lock-up? Or sitting in a dungeon at Sirius’ house all by himself? I’d keep him company if I could--” Then she wished she could take that back; it sounded like something that would be all too easy for James to take the wrong way.

James examined her face, wondering what she meant by that. “Lily, admit it--you’re not really capable of being rational about him. And you know how he felt about you--how he might still feel about you. I heard him telling you he loved you, when you were in the hospital wing. I could see he really meant it.”

“That was years ago!” she interjected, frustrated.

He ignored her outburst. “Remus gave you up because he thought he didn’t deserve you, but you should have seen him every minute you were with Snape. I could see that it was eating him up inside. He obviously regretted pushing you away....”

Her jaw dropped. “Are you saying that you think he still fancies me? James, I can tell you for a certainty that he does not. Yes, he cares about me, and I care about him, but not like that. He shall always be a dear, dear friend. These days I think I’m a better friend to him than any of you are.”

He was shaking, trying not to hit or throw something. “Not like what? When the pair of you were supposed to be friends, you were shagging in the common room!” he burst out, his voice rising. He’d almost added ‘like animals.’ He was barely able to control himself now. “And he broke your leg!”

She stood and put her undrunk mug of tea on the table with a thunk and glared at him, shaking her head in disbelief. He was starting to frighten her now just a bit, even despite her Auror training. “I cannot believe you are bringing that up now. How long have you held that in? How long have you wanted to mention that?”

He rose and walked over to her, sensing that they were getting into very dangerous territory indeed. He put his hands on her arms, trying to be as gentle as possible. “Lily, I just mean--I think he’s been in denial for a long time about how he feels about you. Every time Sirius tries to arrange a date for him with a nice girl, he manages to find something else to do. At the party, Sirius told me that he’d finally agreed to go out with Cecilia’s old Hufflepuff friend, Arlene, and all Remus did was talk about you the entire night.”

Lily looked a little guilty now, he thought. “He--he did?”

“Yeah. Oddly enough, they didn’t go out again,” he added sarcastically. “And there are other times when he lies about where he’s been and who he’s been with. I have tried to be his friend recently, for your information. Every time I suggest getting together, he’s already busy, and it’s a different ridiculous excuse every time. He’s been lying to me, Lily. I can tell--I’ve been friends with Remus long enough that I know. So--he won’t say who he’s associating with, he clearly still fancies you, and one of our friends is supposed to be a traitor who’s trying to get Harry killed, and for all we know, maybe me too. Why? Well, maybe it could be because our werewolf friend has become a Death Eater and thinks that if he delivers our son to Voldemort that I’ll be killed as another reward to him and you’ll be given to Remus....”

“No!” she cried, enraged. “Remus would never do that! And the reason he sometimes goes off with people you don’t know is--” She froze; she’d almost spilled Remus’ secret; it was becoming more difficult by the moment to keep it inside. Her husband looked at her expectantly.

“Well?” James prompted her. When she clamped her mouth shut, he threw up his hands. “Oh, that’s just lovely. So, one of my best friends has become a Death Eater and still fancies my wife, and it’s starting to look like she still fancies him, too.”

She was so angry with him she could barely see. “Do not talk about me in the third person, as though I’m not even here!” she said through clenched teeth. “I do not fancy Remus. I love you, you stupid prat!” she spat at him.

“Oh, really? He was your first, after all. I remember seeing the pair of you, kissing on the common room hearth rug. I remember the way you--” His voice caught, seeing how beautiful she was at this moment, even though she had dark circles under her eyes from the new pregnancy, the morning sickness that came well before the dawn and disrupted her sleep. Suddenly, he couldn’t bring himself to say it, to say that he remembered how she looked with Remus Lupin, letting him kiss her neck, throwing back her head with abandon, so passionate and free. Remus was the first one to make her lose control that way, he thought, his stomach clenching with this jealous thought. I wish it had been me. I wish she’d never been with anyone else, even kissing anyone else, apart from me.

“What?” Lily said at last, her eyes blazing. He felt deflated, the fight gone out of him. His hands hung by his side as he shook his head, his eyes closed.

“We can’t let this tear us apart, Lily,” he whispered. He felt out of breath, as though he’d run a marathon. He looked up at her; she stood looking back at him helplessly.

“No, we can’t,” she agreed, feeling like crying. “But I will not accept that Remus has become a Death Eater, that he would betray us.” She spoke quietly now, hoping that he was feeling calmer. “You see, the reason I started thinking it was Sirius was that when Cecilia came to the party last Wednesday, we had a little row.” She paused. “She’s convinced that Sirius still fancies me.”

James made a face. “What? That’s ridiculous. He was our best man!”

“That doesn’t mean anything!” she said impatiently. “All of the things you said about Remus trying to get rid of you and Harry to have me all to himself--what if that’s true about Sirius, instead? According to Cecilia--” She hesitated. Should she reveal this? It was rather private.

“Well, go on,” he prompted her, standing with his arms crossed on his chest now.

“She said he was crying out my name in his sleep,” she said quietly. “And that a few times, when they were eating dinner or just hanging about in her flat, he’d just call her ‘Lily’ without even noticing or thinking about it. A couple of times he asked her what he’d done wrong, as he hadn’t any clue, and she didn’t tell him. He didn’t even notice,” she said again.

James’ eyes went very wide; he’d had no idea. Lily nodded.

“And Cecilia could swear that he said something about getting rid of Harry. She was terrified of letting on that she’d heard, in case he tried to get rid of her, for knowing too much.” Lily swallowed.

James took her in his arms, holding her tightly. “We’ll find out who it is, love, don’t worry,” he whispered to her. A nagging voice in the back of his mind said, And it’s not as though he cares about breaking the law, with his flying motorbike. Nor does he care about killing someone; he almost killed Snape when we were in school, and although there were many reasons besides Lily that made Sirius feel like doing that, including the danger of his revealing Remus’ secret, Lily had been a large part of it. In fact, James reminded himself, Sirius used to have a complete meltdown whenever he saw Lily and Severus Snape together. He’d been furious about their relationship from the start. Not heartsick, like Remus. Furious. James wavered, suddenly doubting his best friend, the closest thing he had in the world to a brother. Could it be Sirius? he wondered.

“Thank god for Peter,” she said with feeling. James nodded.

“That’s true,” he agreed. “I don’t know what we’d do without Peter.”

He held her tightly while their tea grew cold, both feeling glad that they had at least one friend other than Dumbledore on whom they knew they could always count:

Peter Pettigrew.

* * * * *

Thanks to Emily and SadieSue for the beta reading!