A Chance You Only Get Once

Chapter Twenty Five
Red and Green

She looked peaceful, infinitely peaceful. Even the harsh wind wipping all around her could not disturb her. Lily sometimes found herself envying the snow-woman that she was frozen in one peaceful moment in time. Nothing could harm her. Nothing could mar the perfect white snow.

Then something changed. Lily wondered if it was in response to her presence. She seemed to bring trouble wherever she went these days. The wind picked up even more, and now the snow-woman seemed to strain to stay upright against it. Lily hurried over, her wand drawn, to help her.

Then she moved. She looked down at Lily, her eyes suddenly open, blank and empty and white. "It's you!" she cried.

Lily jerked awake, blinking furiously, craning her stiff neck around. The horror movie they had been watching had finished long ago and had been replaced by another only slightly distinguishable from the first. She was on the couch, James sprawled out on it next to her. How in the world had they fallen asleep during a scary movie? No wonder she had had such an odd dream.

Go to sleep during a ghost movie and you were bound to dream of a ghost you knew. What was it that Marissa had said in the dream? "It's you?" What was her? Why was she analyzing this? It was a dream brought on by a Halloween horror movie marathon they had been stupid enough to watch after they put Harry to bed.

Lily sighed. Harry had missed his second Halloween the same way that he had missed his first. Would they ever be able to celebrate it properly? Someday, she told herself sternly. Maybe even someday soon.

She reached over James and managed to grab the remote control. She flicked the television off and yawned widely. Ironically, it was turning the television off that seemed to startle James awake. "Bad dream, sweetie?" Lily asked quietly after James settled back down with a look of relief on his face.

"Mm," he mumbled intelligently, already dropping back to sleep.

"Me too," she said, snuggling up against him. "Do you want to go get in bed?"

"Mm," James replied again. Lily smiled and would have laughed if she weren't so sleepy. Who would have thought years ago that she would once know James Potter's grunts like they were a real language? "Is that dratted TV still on? I heard a noise. The way some of those villains skulk about it sounds like the swish of a cloak almost."

Lily sat up straight, fully awake, "And then they do the slow footsteps bit," and surely enough, she could hear too the swish of a cloak and the soft crunch of footsteps. "It's all so overdrama-"

"James!" she cried softly, shaking him, her face going white. Her husband sat up immediately, looking about alertly in response to the urgent tone of her voice. He suddenly looked as awake as she quite suddenly felt.

James got up, leaving her on the couch, frozen as if any noise she made would make it be Voldemort after all. As if, by not moving, she could make it be a stray cat or an overactive imagination. As if, if she just stayed perfectly still, James wouldn't -

"Lily, take Harry and go!" James shouted, panicking. He didn't bother to keep his voice down, "It's him!" and no amount of wishing would make it go away. "Go! Run!" She lept to her feet and, to her faint surprise, leapt straight over the couch, not pausing even when she knocked it over in her haste. She turned to look at him at the door very briefly and saw him pull out his wand instead of turning to follow her, "I'll hold him off-"

There was a high pitched cackle that cut off any argument Lily might have mustered. She flew down the hall to Harry's room.

James watched his wife disappear in a flash of red hair. Then he faced the door that flew open. He barely managed to dodge it as it flew across the room at him. There stood Lord Voldemort in a flash of green. A simple levitation charm had the couch Lily had overturned rocketing forward to absorb the curse. In the explosion as it broke apart, James transformed into his stag form and lept at Voldemort with his antlers.

This, unfortunately, did not take the Dark Lord by surprise. James had never transformed in front of him. Only Lily and the Marauders knew. But Voldemort had been prepared for this manuveur. Halfway there, a flash of blue white light had pushed him violently back into his human form. Another flash sent him rioting back into the opposite wall where he crashed into it.

James rolled out of the way in panic, managing to find the meager cover of the coffee table. It was obliterated immediately. "Expelliarmus!" James cried just as the shards broke around him, hoping the rapid fire would give him some advantage as it had in the past. "Stupefy!" Why were these the only curses that were coming to his mind? Why couldn't he think clearly enough to do some that stood a chance of working?

Voldemort did not even appear to say the word "Protego" when his shield was up and the disarming spell had rebounded off and hit James back into the wall again. Then James was rather glad that he hadn't had to shake off anything more potent. He jumped to his feet, but before he could form any other words, the Dark Lord had cried almost carelessly, "Avada Kedavra," and James Morgan Potter died in a flash of green light.

As it rushed towards him, James saw his mother baking cookies and swatting his hand away from them. He saw his father trying to interest him in football. He saw Remus changing painfully, worry still in his face for the friends he was endangering. He saw Peter finally manage the transformation. He saw Sirius in his dog form wrestling a werewolf away from him. He saw Marissa smirking up at him while waving her hand at the clouds she had bewitched to mimic his face. Last of all, he saw two pairs of green eyes, or was that the green that overtook him a moment later? The eyes were lost in the whirl of green engulfing him, but he could feel them there even when he didn't quite know what they meant. Then he blinked, and he was looking into a smirking face that he hadn't seen in over five long years.

Lily had known what her husband meant to do when he told her to go for Harry. If he had meant them to try to run, he would have told her to Apparate to a safe house and wait for him to bring Harry. Oh if only they had found a way to Apparate or Disapparate with a baby! She had felt like she was getting so close-

She burst into the nursery just when she heard a tremendous crash down the hall. James, her heart cried in agony, but she steeled herself against it. Her husband was fighting and dying to give her time to save their son. There was another crash only a few seconds later. Then Lily heard the terrible words that were the death of her husband.

And the end of the last protection that stood between the Dark Lord and her and her son. She had meant to pick Harry up carefully so that he wouldn't cry, but there was no time for that now. She grabbed him and put a silencing spell on him faster than she had ever moved before for lesser causes.

"Portus," she whispered desperately pointing her wand at the toy Snitch in Harry's hand as the door, along with all the other doors on the hall, flew open with a violent bang against the wall. "Don't cry, darling, you'll be safe with Remus," she said, giving him a quick kiss on the forehead. That was what they had decided. If they were caught it meant that Peter had betrayed them. And Voldemort would never look at Remus's. She would regret that wasted time for the goodbye for the next few minutes of her life.

"Ready, one ... two ..." But it was too late. The toy Snitch flew out of Harry's hand and into that of the Dark Lord. It was his first mistake of the night. Lily could have sent him to Remus's and by the time he could have returned, they would be long gone. But whether it was love for Remus or just plain shock that caused it, she hesitated and the split second's chance was gone.

The toy burst into flames in his hand. He did not flinch. He threw it at her, and she barely managed to dodge out of the way, Harry held protectively in her arms. "Accio!" he cried in her distraction and Harry flew out of her arms.

"No!" Lily cried desperately. She flung herself forward and snatched Harry out of the air. She rolled after the power of her jump and barely managed to protect Harry from the fall. His mouth was wide in his silent wails. She had a shield up in a moment. She conjured a wall behind it. "Help! Someone! Please! Help!" she screamed in panic before her scream lost words and was merely a wordless cry for help from anyone who could hear. No one could, however. No one but Peter, who had betrayed them. No! Don't think of that! There's no room for thought of that!

She felt the shield evaporate. The wall burst apart a second later and a large piece hit her rather hard in the head as she threw herself over Harry to protect him. "No," she cried desperately as he advanced on her. "No," she cried, feeling that her wand was gone.

"Imperio, Give me the child," his high, cold voice said.

The bliss that erupted in her mind was beyond wonderful. The grief for James evaporated. The panic and terror vanished. But it was only in the split second before he issued his command, Give me the child. "Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" she cried, crashing violently and painfully back into her grief and terror. The panic was even stronger than before.

Not knowing what else to do, she covered Harry, blocking him however Voldemort turned. "Stand aside, you silly girl," he snapped at her futile and ridiculous effort. "Stand aside, now!"

But Lily had only one thought in her head now, "Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead! Not Harry! Please!" Her arms shot up over her head, held there by invisible ropes. Harry dropped from her arms. He flew towards Voldemort who had a terribly triumphant smile on his snakelike face. "Have mercy!" she cried in agony. "Have mercy, please," she moaned desperately.

Harry stopped halfway to the Dark Lord. He looked shocked for the first time since he entered the house. "Mercy?" he cackled terribly. "Mercy!" He cackled even more.

It took all the willpower that Lily possessed, but she broke the bonds that held her. She dove for her fallen wand and had it in her hand before Voldemort could stop throwing his head back in high, cold laughter. Lily knew that she could never overpower him, but she could sure as hell surprise him again. "REDUCTO!" she shouted at the house supports she could see from out the door. The roof immediately began to sag toward them. "INCENDIO!" she cast at it.

Voldemort looked up at it. Lily did not. She snatched Harry out of the air and sprinted out of the room. But the Dark Lord had already recovered from his surprise. "AVADA KEDAVRA!" he shouted, pointing his wand at her.

A thousand thoughts exploded in Lily's head in the time that it took for the spell to speed toward her. Thoughts of her laughing mother kissing a bruised knee, thoughts of a bemused father trying to digest the news of her place at Hogwarts, a sister clinging to her leg and begging her not to go without her. Thoughts of a best friend who challenged her and made her laugh and tried to protect her and make her happy, thoughts of a boy who broke her heart so that she could be happy, thoughts of another boy who was crushed that she didn't seem to approve of him for her best friend, and yet another boy who looked at her with fearful eyes. Thoughts of a grinning, beaming groom taking her arm, of a baby being placed carefully into her arms. That was when Lily finally understood that all of this was what really mattered in life. To be loved was all that was needed. Those who loved you and whom you loved were the difference between life and death. So Lily did not mind in the least giving up this full and wonderous life she had led for the tiny bundle in her arms that she loved above them all, trusting that this love that was the greatest power of all would somehow protect him. In the time left to her, specifics did not matter. All that mattered was love.

So thinking, she fell without fighting the spell that whisked the life from her body. She fell freely, and the boy who had caught her so often before did not fail her then.

Lord Voldemort thought it was a small defeat for him when Lily Violet Potter fell to the ground dead, still protectively covering her beloved son. He had wanted her alive. She had done research into a brand of magic he had little to no knowledge of, and with veritaserum, she could have been very useful. There was even that old rumor that she knew what Regulus Black had done with that dratted locket to consider.

He didn't know that it was his great defeat. The house was caving in around them. He had to act quickly. He took the infant roughly by his nightie from his mother's protecting arms and held him up before his face. He stopped to stabilize the room that they were in. The fire crackled all around them. With one careless wave of his arm, he transfigured the spot he stood on into a safe space. So he looked in the eyes of the boy that were so like that of the woman he had just killed. "You, I suppose, will be known as Lord Voldemort's great precaution. The boy who worried him when he was not yet indestructible, but instead you will make me finally, at last, immortal. All of the Potters were marked because they might be trouble later. But no more. The last of the Potters is in my power, and they shall never trouble me again. Avada Kedavra," he said coldly.

There was a third blinding flash of green light that exploded out of Voldemort's wand and rebounded off of Harry too quickly for man or baby to see it coming before it was gone.

When it had gone, leaving the room far darker despite the raging fire, Harry dropped to the ground until he landed with a gentle plop on the ground beside a large bronze eagle pin, and Lord Voldemort disappeared entirely with a greater and more terrible cry than any yet.

* * *

"He's dead," Sirius said quietly, no expression in his voice. There was not even surprise though it was written plainly on his face.

"Who?" Lily cried in automatic panic, hurrying over from her armchair on the opposite side of the Common Room. She stood over his shoulder and quickly skimmed the letter. James also stood up and stood behind his friend to read the letter which was shaking in Sirius's hands. "Regulus?" she cried in a shocked whisper. "Your brother - how?"

"How very appropriate," Sirius said hollowly. "Voldemort killed him. Apparently he doesn't have enough spine for his wonderous master."

"Mommy dearest certainly seems to have done a one eighty on old Voldie," James said quietly. "Are you going to the funeral?"

"Yes," Sirius said simply, crumpling up the letter and throwing it into the fire. He stared at it as it caught fire and smoldered slowly into ashes.

James caught Lily's eye and motioned her to leave Sirius alone. She flicked him on the shoulder. "Be more sensitive," she hissed at him angrily. Then she turned and walked up to her dormitory and, to make herself feel better, checked their room for the hundredth time since Marissa had left three days ago.

Sirius sat there staring at the fireplace. Neither Lily nor James could guess what thoughts were running through his head.

Chief among them were Professor MacBone's words and whether or not they could have been true. He will die because he cannot betray you. Could Regulus have refused to give him up to the Dark Lord? Could that have been the sin for which he was killed? No, he decided firmly. My brother had no love for me anymore. But he would go to the funeral.

* * *

Evelyn Lupin had a bigger (visible at least) reaction to the news that her son was engaged than Sirius Black did to the news that his brother had been murdered. It was not the reaction that a son would expect from a normal mother. That was because Evelyn Lupin was not a normal mother, nor did she have a normal son.

Remus told her first about his new girlfriend, all about the dashing princess who had swept him off his feet. It certainly seemed to him as if she had done the sweeping rather than the other way around. He told her about her mother the recently discovered witch in hiding who had died when she was young. He told her about the Debutante Ball he had attended that summer for the first time.

Then he told her that he had given her his grandmother's ring. She stopped nodding absently as she planned the gigantic New Years party (she would have done Christmas, but Christmas Eve was a full moon), and jerked her head around to stare at her son. Then she started yelling at him, "What do you even know about this girl?" she demanded. "And you asked her to marry you? Marry into the Lupin line?"

"To answer your questions in reverse order, yes I did, and everything I just told you is a start to all that I know about her," Remus replied calmly.

"You know what she's told you," her mother replied shrewdly. "She's just trying to sweep into our fortune. She doesn't have a place in the wizarding world and she knows what it means to have an ancient lineage from her mother - Olivia Nelson, did you say? And how do you even know that that's true? I went to school with Olivia Nelson, and she's the last person that I would ever believe had given up witchcraft."

"If you knew her mother, then I'm certain that she'll be delighted to meet you," Remus replied calmly. "And you'll see the resemblance immediately. As for her being a gold digger or whatever else it is you're suggesting, keep in mind that that's the girl I love that you're talking about. And she would never do anything like that. When you meet her you'll see."

"While it's easy to say that you know her, that's exactly what someone playing you would convince you of," his mother argued. "And even if she is a perfectly wonderful girl, Remus, that's just it. You said it yourself. She's just a girl, and you're no more than a boy."

Remus laughed out loud, shocked at how good a mood he was in, especially during this conversation. "Are you seriously arguing that we're too young? If I weren't a werewolf you would have had me engaged before I was eleven!"

"At least I would have known what you were marrying," Evelyn Lupin replied immediately. "I wouldn't have been eleven when I made the judgement."

"Mum," Remus said almost sternly. "I'm going to marry Marissa Fletcher, and you really shouldn't be fighting this. It's not like you could convince anyone else to marry me."

"So, what? You settled for whomever will take you?" his mother argued immediately. "I want more for you, Remus. You are my only son."

"So I would appreciate it if you did not get in the way of my happiness, Mum," he replied calmly.

"How long will you be happy though?" his mother continued. "Do you really think that you can keep it a secret from your wife? You'll have to tell her soon if you decide to marry her. Then, and I don't say this to hurt you, I say to to protect you, she will almost certainly leave you. Then your secret will be out. If you really love her, you won't be able to pretend you're having an affair that night every month like we always planned."

"Like you always planned," Remus snapped. "And it's one of the stupidest plans a smart woman like you has ever come up with. As for your worry, I didn't tell her, but she figured it out. And she doesn't care."

"I don't approve," Evelyn Lupin said stiffly, momentarily at a loss for arguments.

Remus just smiled at her, "I didn't tell you to get your approval. I just wanted to keep you informed. I do hope you'll be polite when she comes to visit over Easter, however."

"You really do love this girl, don't you?" she said rather than asked, eying him carefully. "You're different than you were. She's the change."

"Yes, she is," Remus replied. "And yes, I do."

"Then I'm all the sorrier for you, my son," she said. "And I still do not approve."

"That's okay."

* * *

Peter had been willing to browbeat Dumbledore himself if that was what it took to get him out of the castle and away from all the cloak and dagger junior Death Eaters hounding him and to his grandparents' house for the holidays. It had just taken a great deal of cajoling to McGonagall who had presented his case to Dumbledore for him, but he had been ready to do anything that it took.

Now, for the life of him he couldn't remember why. All right, he could remember the reason. He could recall all the incidents far too vividly. His father's parents, however, were driving him as batty as they had once driven his mother (up the wall and back down again at least twice a day until he wasn't sure if he was standing on the floor or the ceiling). Peter wondered why he had wanted this so much.

More often, he wondered why it had been granted to him. Sirius and James had the Potters to go home to, and allowing them to go home for Christmas hadn't even been considered. Granted, Peter's grandparents were a fully qualified witch and wizard rather than a Squib and a Muggle with freaky cats. However, Peter thought that it was more likely that James and Sirius had actually foiled one of the Dark Lord's plots while his mother had merely been framed. James and Sirius were believable targets. He was insignificant.

But not to the Dark Lord. Peter was important to Dark Lord. It was funny. He had spent his whole life wanting to be important to someone. His parents. His friends. Marissa. Dumbledore. But none of those people had thought him important. And now, he had gotten his wish, and it was Voldemort. Wasn't that just his luck?

Then again, maybe he was more important to Dumbledore than his conscience convinced himself he was at these times. After all, his grandparents were taking him to the Bahamas for Christmas. It was the most insane thing that he had ever heard and the last place that he wanted to be on Christmas, but it would get him the hell out of England. Then not even by "dropping in" could the junior (or not so junior) Death Eaters come to browbeat him for information. It would also get him away from his memories and his guilt, at least for awhile.

* * *

Marissa was humming as she helped Mavi prepare the gingerbread cookies. She had hummed all during the time that she and Mundungus had built and decorated a gingerbread house. She had hummed during dinner last night. She had, in truth, been humming ever since she returned home. When she began to dance and mix the cake ingredients in time to the music, even twirling about before she put the cookies in the oven, Mavi couldn't contain her chuckles anymore.

Marissa just smiled over at her, "What's so funny, Mavi?" she demanded shrewdly though her smirk gave her away.

"Who is he?" Mavi asked her knowingly.

Marissa laughed. "Am I that obvious?"

"It's just that you look just like your mother after your father came home from a long business trip," Mavi replied. "So, who is he?"

The smile on Marissa's face grew tremendously. "Remus Lupin," she said. Then she took the spell off the ring that she had disillusioned. She laughed self-consciously at Mavi's shocked look. "And don't start."

"All right, Miss Marissa," she said resignedly. "I'll try not to start crying."

Marissa, who had turned back to the homemade frosting preparation, jerked her head back around to stare at her old nanny. "Did you think I'd start scolding?" Mavi demanded in her scolding tone. "Well, you know the cons of this better than I do, so why ruin a moment like this with talk like that? And he does seem to make you very happy."

"He really does," Marissa said, feeling a little tearful herself. Then she smiled widely and went back to humming. She would have been singing, but her voice was terrible. She contented herself with dancing about the kitchen as she cooked all of her and Gus's Christmas favorites. It was certainly better than thinking about what she would tell him on Boxing Day.

Over the past few months, Marissa had become very adept at blocking out the bad and concentrating on the good. She was cashing in on that talent now.

* * *

Sirius, on the other hand, couldn't ignore the death of his brother for long. Especially when he received the official invitation to the funeral. He was almost surprised that he had been afforded that courtesy. He had half expected that he would learn about any deaths in the family from the Daily Prophet. The personal letter had been strange enough.

So early on Christmas Eve, James woke up to see Sirius struggling into his formal black funeral robes. He was having a great deal of trouble with the pitch black bowtie at the neck. He was cursing quietly under his breath as he struggled with it. That was probably what had woken James. Then again, James slept like the dead. He had probably been worried about his best friend.

"Padfoot?" James asked carefully as he sat up in bed without any prodding, an unheard of occurence. "Are you all right?"

"The utter arrogance of my mother to hold a funeral on Christmas Eve," he said jerkily as if continuing aloud a rant that had been going around in his head for some time. He was giving the twisted bowtie a yank every two seconds, which appeared to be rapidly making the mess worse. "And expect half of the wizards in England to show up. As if the Blacks could stop time itself, as if we own the holidays and can designate them days of mourning whenever we please."

"We?" James said in surprise. Ever since he had run away, Sirius had alway referred to his family as if he were no longer a part of it. He threw back his covers and stood up. He walked over to where his friend was fighting his clothes in front of the mirror. "Here, let me, Padfoot."

Sirius gave it one last final jerking tug, then dropped his arms in frustration. James grabbed his wand from his bedside table and charmed the tie into a bow around his neck. Sirius straightened it slightly. He was silent for a long moment, looking at himself in the mirror. "Regulus would have looked just like this at my funeral if he had lived a few more years," he said, his voice unreadable.

"You're not going to die, Padfoot," James said as if it were a promise.

Sirius ignored him. "I keep thinking of that night this summer when I had him pinned under me at the Prewetts. I could tell that it was him through the mask even before he spoke. After that night, after tricking and killing someone that he knew, there was nothing that he would have backed out of. There was nothing that Voldemort could have asked of him that he would have refused."

"It's one thing to set up a murder, quite another to do it yourself," James said. "If he had been asked that-"

"He wouldn't have been. Not this soon. He wasn't old enough or powerful enough to cast the Killing Curse," Sirius cut him off definitively. "He was a baby, but he was proud. Do you really think that we're so different? We both would never turn back from what we believed. We chose different sides. That's the only difference."

"It makes all the difference, Sirius," James told him seriously.

"That's not the point," he said quietly. He turned to face James at last, "There's nothing that I wouldn't do for you, James. There's nothing that I wouldn't do to fight Voldemort, to kill him. There's nothing that Regulus wouldn't do to help him. Yet he died because he couldn't do something that Voldemort asked of him."

"I don't know what you mean by all this, Padfoot," James admitted.

"Nothing could turn either of us back from what we chose, except one thing that was so ingrained on both of us that I didn't break free until this past year," Sirius said quietly, "And something that was so a part of Regulus's soul that he never would have. He would always be bound to family. Pride and dignity and honor, preserve it in the Black line at all costs.

"Dumbledore thinks that Voldemort will be after us, trying to learn all he can so that he can trap us because we foiled the Prewett trap," Sirius said. "Voldemort's overestimating us, I think, but he would want to kill us if he could. Despite the fact that I've betrayed my family, despite the fact that I've been disowned, Regulus would never have helped Voldemort kill me. Because I was still blood. Only Blacks can spill Black blood."

"Sirius, you don't think-" James began, sputtering in surprise.

"That Regulus died because he couldn't betray me, as I so easily betrayed him," Sirius replied gravely. "Yes."

"Stop it, Sirius, you're being ridiculous," James said sternly. "You don't know that, and it doesn't seem all that likely to me. I think you're just trying to make this your fault. You feel guilty for leaving your family, because, as you say, family loyalty was instilled in you. So, family has been dishonored and killed and you feel responsible for righting it. Except that you can't right this, and you wouldn't if you could. So instead you feel guilty. That's all this fancy is."

Sirius was looking at him, and James could tell that his words were penetrating Sirius's worried mind. "Don't think of this, Sirius. Even if it were true, it's certainly not your fault. And it wouldn't make you inferior to your brother. Don't think it," James ordered sternly. "And whatever you do, don't go to this funeral with any guilt hanging about you. Your mother will pounce on it and use it. You don't let the vultures smell blood."

"Thank you, Prongs," Sirius said, grabbing his best friend in a bear hug. James was right. His brother wasn't supposed to matter to him. He hadn't mattered to his brother. If he had, it didn't mean anything. It wasn't like they could ever have reconciled. It wasn't as if they were really brothers anymore. They would never have reunited. They would always have stood on opposite sides of an infinitely deep and wide chasm, or perhaps a thin and shallow one that could nevertheless never be crossed.

If nothing in life could have changed that, death certainly did not have the power.

* * *

Peter was already in the Tropics. James, Marissa, and Lily would have been more welcome at a Death Eater rally (which this almost would be), but Remus would be there. Flanked by his overprotective parents (overprotective and self-righteous but still big believers in the sacredness of the seven old families), he arrived at the funeral in flawless black funeral robes. He and Sirius were not allowed to stand together, but Sirius found him in the crowd with his eyes and held onto him as an anchor in the storm. His friend was here. That was enough.

It got him through the elaborate ceremony with everyone pretending that Regulus was an innocent victim cut down by the madman terrorist while everyone knew that half of those at the funeral were among his ranks and nearly as many people knew that Regulus had been among his ranks until his death at his Master's hands. It was high class pretending at its finest. There were so many elephants in the room that the humans squeezed in with them could barely breathe, yet still no one said anything about the gigantic animals they had to tiptoe around in every conversation.

He managed to stand a few feet from his mother the entire service. He managed to ride in the same car to the graveside one. He managed to stand with the rest of the family in the Black family plot and watch his brother's transfigured body (to guard against dark magic tampering) be lowered into the ground as his would never be.

Good. He didn't want to be buried here beside Phineas Nigellus and Araminta Meliflua and Elladora Black. Or Regulus.

There would always be something missing, however. He would never be able to quite connect it with the fact that he did not have a plot in this cemetary. It was a guarantee in his life that was suddenly gone. There would be someone to mourn him when he was gone, even if it was only crocodile tears out of obligation. That was the promise of such a family. There would be someone, even if he outlived all of his friends, to transfigure his corpse and bury his bones.

Family was security, and Sirius would never have that again. But he had steady friendships, he was forced to remember as he caught Remus's eyes. Hopefully they would be enough.

Sirius did not linger by his brother's gravemarker as his parents ostentatiously did. He made his way over to Remus who gave him an encouraging clap on the shoulder as they walked off to the find Mr. and Mrs. Potter who were going to pick him up from the parking lot. He couldn't catch a train back to Hogwarts until at least the day after Christmas. Sirius found it ironic that he would get to spend Christmas with James's parents while James himself wouldn't. Sirius almost felt like apologizing to them when he came up to them standing by their car.

I'm sorry that you got me instead of James. He felt like saying these words to them, but they smiled so kindly that he couldn't form them on his tongue. He was about to let them usher him to their car when a cold voice stopped all of them, "I wish to speak to my son."

It was Christophus Black who had spoken, but Krysta Black was standing next to him. They made a formiddable pair. It was easy to see that they were Sirius's parents. He had his mother's thick, luxurious black hair, his father's unfathomable gray eyes, his mother's aristocratic nose, his father's strong, tall build. More than pure physical characteristics, their manner was apparent in their son. A pride and dignity was as clear in son as in his parents.

That was where the similarities ended, however. Appearance and mannerisms, that was all. Their motives for pride and dignity were far separated now. "I didn't realize you had one," Sirius said in the same calm, firm voice that his father had used. He did not turn around to start to walk away, however.

"Regulus is dead," Krysta Black said formally as if this point needed clarification. "You are once more the heir to the Black line."

"You were the one who told me that once you had been disinherited you could never go back," Sirius told his mother calmly, unflinchingly.

"The case of Andromeda is different," Krysta Black replied. Sirius was surprised that his mother had said her name. It was the first time since Aunt Cornelia had tossed his cousin out on the street that she had made so much as a vague reference to her. "You will be the last of the Blacks when we die."

"Then when you die, the house of Black is over," Sirius replied formally. "May I live to see that day."

"Stop this foolishness," Christophus Black said commandingly. "Both of you; this is not a discussion. Sirius, you are our eldest son. You will return to our house and resume your responsibilities. You are the heir to the Black name again. All will be forgiven as to your desertion. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black will never die out."

"In that case, I wish you every luck in living forever," Sirius replied. "I am not coming back," he said firmly. "There is nothing worse that you can do to me than I have already chosen to endure. I will never come back to that house."

Then he turned and walked away, the Potters and Remus following behind him, leaving the proud Christophus and Krysta Black standing solidly and stubbornly watching him walk away. When they returned home, Christophus beat Kreacher to within an inch of his life. When Sirius reached the Potters, he tore James's room apart in a frenzy. Krysta Black thought nothing of her husband's actions. The Potters were very worried about Sirius's.

* * *

Remus barely had time to change out of his funeral robes and hurry down to the garden shed by the time he and his parents reached home after Regulus Black's funeral. Moonrise was only minutes away when they locked him carefully inside. He could feel the moon approaching steadily until the transformation actually hit.

He hated the howl of pain that was torn from his transforming throat, but at least it served as a warning to his parents. It was certainly not a sound that was welcome on Christmas Eve night when children were supposed to be waiting up to hear the stamping of hoofs on the roof of the house. There were supposed to be sugar plums dancing through their heads. Instead Remus Lupin had the howl of a wolf and visions of nice, red, juicy human flesh to sink his teeth into.

* * *

Lily had finally settled into a fitful doze when Potter came clammering down the stairs into the Common Room. He cast a quick look over Lily, lying under multiple quilts in a couch she had pulled close to the dying fire which cast a soft, dull yellow light over her somewhat disheveled dark red hair and heart-stopping green eyes. In this light, both were the perfect shades of Christmas colors.

"Waiting up for Santa, Evans?" James said, walking over and giving the fire a prod to get the flames going again. It was too cold to be camping out in the Common Room like this if she wasn't even going to have a proper fire.

"No," Lily said, sitting up reluctantly. She pushed his hand away and picked up her wand from the ottoman on a nearby armchair. She transfigured the bits of wood left into full, new logs. James lit them again with his own wand. "Thank you, Potter," she said coldly, settling back into the covers again.

"I know a charm to keep the fire up for the night," James told her.

"Bully for you," Lily mumbled sleepily.

"I'll take that as a 'please help me, James,'" he replied calmly, muttering the spell and rising to his feet. "So, are you listening for Santa's sleigh to land on the roof of Gryffindor Tower, Evans?"

"Potter, think; this is the lowest room of Gryffindor Tower. If I wanted to hear something up on the roof, I would go sleep up in the Fourth year dormitories. They're the ones with the highest room this year. And since we have Gryffindor Tower all to ourselves, I could sleep there I suppose," Lily said, her eyes closed as she lay back against the pillow. "But it just sees inappropriate to steal someone else's bed."

"And the problem with yours is...?"

"None of your business, Potter," she mumbled. James sighed and turned to walk back up to his dormitory. At least he knew what the noise down here a moment ago had been. "Thank you for the fire," Lily mumbled softly just before he started up the stairs. James stopped and turned around in surprise.

"Merry Christmas, Lily," he said softly. She didn't respond, so he doubted that she had heard.

* * *

Who ever heard of rain on Christmas? Apparently the tropical island his grandparents had stranded him on did. It had been raining since they arrived. The sun would probably come out the day that they left. Peter spent the afternoon that was his friend's night staring morosely out the window into the pouring rain, stuck inside with his stifling grandparents in very close quarters.

* * *

Non-Catholic families had gone to bed hours ago. Even many Catholics ones had, but for those who attended Midnight Mass every year, with Christmas just officially begun, the magic lingered as they lingered by the fire and stayed away from their beds. This was the case of the Fletchers who had returned an hour or so ago from the candlelit Mass at the Cathedral and eaten a few pieces of the pies that Mavi hadn't been able to hide properly.

Mavi had left for home long ago, her delicious Christmas turkey roasting in the oven overnight. Jerome Fletcher was in the kitchen taking out the milk and cookies that they always left out for Santa. Not that even Gus believed in Santa Claus anymore, but it was a tradition. The Fletchers had little to cling to these days outside of tradition. Marissa smiled to think how far a year had brought her little family. Her father was taking part in the traditions, an actual smile on his face, and she and Gus were snuggled up under a quilt just like last year. Only this year, she didn't have to do it in the dark in her room. They were out in the open, by the fireplace, sitting with their father.

Or at least, they would once he finally showed up. "Hurry up, Dad!" Gus yelled in the general direction of the kitchen. "I want to start the story!"

There was no answer for a few minutes. Jerome Fletcher was taking his time in the kitchen to torture his children, and they knew it. "We're going to start with out you!" Marissa warned.

They waited only a few more seconds before Gus pulled out the book and presented it to Marissa. Knowing that when Jerome Fletcher returned with the cookies they would have a good-natured fight about it, she opened the book and began to read,

"Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

"The children were nestled all snug in their beds,"

Here Marissa gave Gus a playful pinch and he laughed.

"While visions of sugar plums danced in their heads.
And Ma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap."

Marissa's voice broke slightly when she read the words "Ma in her 'kerchief," but she recovered when she playfully mimed putting a cap on Gus. She pretended to be asleep for a moment after she read about the nap.

It was in this silence on that early Christmas morning, as Marissa was pretending to sleep, that she heard a noise that took away all the drowsiness that she had indeed been beginning to feel. She suddenly felt very, very cold when she had been feeling so warm a moment ago.

Gus, who was "shaking her awake," didn't notice how pale she had gone. She opened her eyes, her heart beating painfully in her chest. "Why don't you read the next part, Gus?" she asked, handing him the book. While he was finding his place, she struggled out of the comfortable couch and out of the blanket they had been nestling under.

"When out on the roof there arose such a clatter," Gus read, oblivious to the fact that to Marissa it felt as if this part of the story were being acted out. She, however, doubted that it would be St. Nick that was visiting them in the dead of night, prowling around the outside of their house. "I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter." Marissa, breathing heavily and trying not to panic, walked slowly to the outside wall. "Away to the window I flew like a flash," she slowly, carefully pried back the curtain a little. She saw a flash of light and sparks that she knew was a spell. It briefly lit the scene enough for her to see two figures in hooded cloaks. "Tore open the shutter, and threw up the sash."

Marissa's eyes widened in horror, and she gasped quietly. Gus stopped, looking at her in surprise. Marissa motioned for him to keep reading, "The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow, gave the lustre of midday to objects below," he continued with a shrug. Marissa could see in the light from the full moon that there were at least two dark, hooded wizards trying to get into her house. "When, what to my wondering eyes should appear."

"But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer," Marissa said softly, moving quickly away from the window, leaving the curtain carefully drawn. "But not for us this time, Gus," she said. Then, without explanation, she grabbed his hand and pulled him with her as she walked so furiously that she was almost running toward the kitchen.

The book dropped out of Gus's hands in surprise. To keep Gus, or perhaps herself, calm, Marissa was still reciting the poem, "With a little old driver, so lively and quick." Oh God, make me lively and quick. Let us get out of this. "I knew in a moment it can't be St. Nick."

"What?" Gus cried in surprise.

"Must be," Marissa corrected, the panic in her voice tangible now. "More rapid than eagles, his courses they came," she was almost in tears. She flew to the kitchen door, dragging her brother behind her, and opened the door. Her broom was only a few feet from the kitchen door in the broomshed. "He whistled and shouted and - " She stopped when she heard a whistle and a great shout and saw a figure pelting toward the open door. She slammed it shut, locking it frantically.

It wouldn't do any good, she knew. They would already be inside if it was only locks that they had to contend with. Either her wards or, more likely, her mother's old wards, were keeping them momentarily at bay. But they wouldn't for long.

Then Marissa was back out of the kitchen, "As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly!" and she was running down the hall trying to think of something to do. "When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky!" That had been her plan, get Gus on her broomstick, but as she heard sounds from the first floor, the sound of things smashing at the windows and shutters, she knew that, "So up to the house-top the courses they flew," and she would never have been able to get Gus out by taking to the sky. And what about her father?

He was following them in confusion now. "With a sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too," Marissa said as she continued down another long hall, looking for a telephone. But who could she call? Scotland Yard? They were no match for Death Eaters. If she called the Potters Sirius would probably try to rescue her himself before the Ministry could arrive, and he was no match for Death Eaters if he came alone first.

"Riss, please stop it!" Gus begged, having picked up on his sister's wild panic.

She did not appear to hear him. Her thoughts were whirling too quickly, and her lips were still automatically forming the words of the old rhyme that had given her so much comfort on quieter, happier, simpler Christmas Eves. "And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof," but it was terrible that the rhyme now seemed to be coming true. Though the author's fears had been relieved by what had come down through the chimney, how terrible his fear must have been beforehand! And it was no St. Nick breaking into her house. "The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As I drew in my head and was turning around," Marissa stopped and turned around in a circle as she said this, not even realizing she was acting it out.

Her eyes fell on the open door of a small walk-in closet when she did, however. She stopped, and a plan slammed into her mind half-formed. It was not likely to be more formed than that. She still had her, by this point, bone-crushing grip on Gus's hand. She strode to the closet and pulled him in front of her, facing the opening of the closet. She took him by the shoulders, putting on a terrible fake smile, "Merry Christmas, Gus," she said quitely, taking in her brother's face as if it were the last time that she would see it. To him, she looked quite mad. It was the most terrified that he had ever felt in his life, and he was only catching a little of her fear. "I love you, Gus, I'm sorry," she said, then pushed him, hard, into the closet and slammed the door as he stumbled to the ground in the darkness.

She opened it quickly, used her wand to summon the lightbulb out of the chain from which it was hanging, and slammed the door again, leaving him in darkness. She vanished the lightbulb, then turned to the door and threw her weight against it and held the knob and Gus began to struggle to try to get out. "I'm so sorry, Gus," she shouted through it, locking it magically. She had never cast spells so quickly before.

She disabled Alohomora, made it sound-proof, imperturbed it, made it difficult to notice, and anything else that she could think of. "Don't come out until you haven't heard anything for a long time or - or I come for you," Marissa told the door.

Only then did she turn to her bewildered father. "Get in that closet over there, I'll do the same thing for you," she told him quietly.

"And then what about you?" Jerome Fletcher demanded.

"When they get what they came for, they'll leave," Marissa said calmly. "I think." I hope, at least.

"And what do they want?" her father asked as if he already knew.

"Me," Marissa said strongly, surprised at the tone of her voice. She had found a strength that she had never dreamed she had when she needed it. It was nice to know that she could be in command of herself in a situation like this. "Unless you've offended Voldemort lately?" she asked, the humor an outlet she had relied on for a long time. "I didn't think so. Get in."

"You want me to cower in a closet while murderers come for my only daughter?" he demanded indignantly. "Yeah bloody right, Olivia!" he said, drawing himself up.

Marissa stopped in shock. She blinked at him, "Olivia," she said quietly. He hadn't called her that since her mother had died. "No, please, don't die for me, Dad!" she said, recovering.

Now it was her father's turn to stop and blink in surprise. "Dad?" he asked quietly. Then he too recovered and focused on what was important. "I won't leave you alone to those monsters, Olivia."

"They're wizards, you won't be able to do anything," Marissa argued. "Please, you have to live through this. You have to be here for Gus. For once in your life, do what's right for him and not for yourself. Put aside your pride and be there for your son!"

Her father looked at her seriously and calmly. "No. I've done what's right for Mundungus this year. There's nothing more that I can give him. I've lost him after all, however much I try to get him back. He could never forgive me for this, living when you are dead. Let me do, for the first time in my life, what is right by you. I can't do anything right for Mundungus in this situation anyway."

"We're wasting time," Marissa cried in agony, his speech bringing distracting tears to her eyes. There was a loud rumbling and what felt like a sudden release of pressure all around the house. The wards were broken. And they were inside. Time was up. "Fine, go to the kitchen, and when they enter the main hall make a noise to distract them. I'll attack from above," Marissa said, immediately turning and sprinting toward the back stairs.

She had not gotten two steps before she whirled around and embraced her father, "After you make the diversion, run for a phone," she whispered, quickly letting him go. Then she was off again, giving him a push toward the kitchens. It was the first real embrace the two had shared since the death of Livy Fletcher exactly ten years ago.

She took the stairs four at a time, leaping up them and sprinting down the hall until she was crouched just behind the wall that blocked the main staircase in the foyer. She took a deep breath to try to steady her breathing, but her escalating illness wasn't making that an easy task. She barely managed to silence herself before she found herself racked with coughs that brought her to her knees. She took the spell off warily when they subsided, gasping for breath and listening intently for sounds from the intruders.

Her plan was for her initial attack to work because she really didn't think she could plan anything more complex. She still needed an escape route, however. The memory exploded in her mind as if someone had put it there. Or her life was beginning to flash before her eyes, and it started with the day she had learned she was a witch. It had been at a party for Gus because he was starting Kindergarten soon. She had been practicing magic tricks ever since that magician at that party had made Gus so happy even on his birthday. She had even figured out a way do a disappearing act.

Marissa took the risk of summoning the smoke packets from her room. She further took the risk of enlarging them. Then, a true magician to the end, she backpalmed them. If you were only a magician for an audience, you would spend all your time looking for people and too little time on your craft. But if you start lecturing yourself when there are Death Eaters to worry about, you've just plain snapped, Marissa reprimanded herself sharply.

"Okay, showtime," she whispered. She got her wand ready, impressed that she could hold it steady, and carefully took aim at a chair near the center of the large hall well past the staircase that she was planning from attacking from but still in fairly close range. She gave it a magical push and it toppled over with an echoing clang. It took three seconds for three figures to arrive. They wore dark gray cloaks, but their hoods were thrown back and their faces were bare. If they had worn masks, there might have been hope, it would have meant there might be a way to survive this. They had come with their faces proudly displayed, because it didn't matter if these people saw them. The whole Fletcher family was going to die tonight.

But maybe not Gus. They didn't know about Gus, Severus had said.

There were two men and a woman. They looked at the chair and immediately started looking around for which way whoever had knocked it over could have run. "This place is huge, you think Pettigrew could have mentioned that," the woman snapped irritably.

Peter. Don't think about that. Don't think about that. You can't afford to be distracted by that, Marissa repeated over and over in her mind. Come on, Dad, where are you? Do something to distract them and me.

Her adrenaline was already pumping, giving her blessed energy she had been missing for a very long time. She hadn't realized how much the disease had been stealing from her. Good think of that. NO! Don't think of that! Think of what you have to do! Think of why in the hell your father hasn't already-

There was a tremendous crash from the kitchens. All three of the Death Eaters turned, their wands drawn. Marissa leapt into action. She had a clean shot at their backs and the element of surprise. She threw herself onto the stair rail and propelled herself down, screaming hexes faster than she ever had before, "Expelliarmus! Stupefy! Impedimenta! Stupefy! Expelliarmus! Stupefy! Impedimenta!" Oh how she wished now she had taken advanced Defense so she would know better curses. But there was no more room for such thoughts in her head anymore, and they all obligingly vanished.

The larger man's wand flew out his hand toward her as he slammed back against the wall. Marissa didn't catch it but let it land on the stairs behind her. She wasn't James, after all. Only he could have made such a catch. The smaller man was hit with a stunner and keeled over. The woman was hit with impedimenta, by far the weakest curse Marissa had fired.

The stair rail ended and Marissa rolled off of it, landing neatly in an attack crouch. Jerome Fletcher had come barreling out of the kitchen with a frying pan in his hand and actually managed to knock down the slightly dazed Death Eater who was trying to look for his wand again. It looked for a moment as if they might win.

They might have if her father had taken out the woman first. She recovered from impedimenta very quickly and, with a terrible smirk at Marissa who had managed to land somewhat behind a couch, raised her wand and pointed it at her father. "Avada Kedavra!" she cried triumphantly and contemptuously.

There was a flash of green light and Jerome Fletcher fell down dead, the clang of the frying pan echoing loudly in the hall. But not so loudly as the enraged cry that was torn out of Marissa throat as she jumped to her feet pointing her wand at the woman who had killed her father. The spell went off like a shot and threw her back. She had no idea what words she had said, but the woman immediately crumbled to the ground, her face turned away from Marissa and toward a corridor that led off from the hall.

Unfortunately, in the confusion, the larger man grabbed the woman's wand and the smaller one woke up. They closed threateningly on Marissa Fletcher who lept up on top of the couch, one foot resting against the top of the back. They were surprised that she would present herself as such an obvious target. They were surprised for just enough time for her to throw down the smoke packet and disappear in a shower of sparks and a thick layer of smoke.

The Death Eaters pushed their way through the smoke in confusion, looking for the girl. It thinned out a few seconds later, but Marissa was nowhere to be seen. "Where's that dratted girl?" one demanded.

"What has she done to my wife?" the other cried loudly. "What has she done to Anne?"

"Leave Anne, we'll revive her when we've caught the Mudblood. We didn't seal the house, she could be escaping," the first replied harshly. "You go that way, I'll go this way," they said, choosing two random corridors. They left in a heavy clomp of boots.

When it had been quiet for a few moments, Marissa burst out of the small wardrobe halfway across the room that her mother had placed in the foyer all those years ago. They used it to store guest's cloaks, and Marissa had used it once when she was eleven to perform the same trick. "Thank you, Mum," she whispered.

She ran over to where her father lay prostrate on the ground, his legs and arms at a weird angle. "I'm so sorry, Dad," she whispered, kneeling down beside him and laying her head down against his. She felt tears and sobs coming and fought them desperately. She had wondered if they would come if she ever saw the death of her father. She was glad to know that they did, but annoyed at the unnecessary noise they would make. Jerome Fletcher had been the hero his wife always wanted him to be at the end. He had been the father. Could the death make up for the life?

That was a question for God, and Marissa didn't have time to fathom it. She heard the echo of footsteps, and they sped her on. She had almost reached the kitchen when her energy suddenly deserted her and the effort of suppressing her sobs and her panic caught up with her. She sank to the ground, trying to hold herself up as coughs tore loudly at her throat. She ended up vomitting before she could calm herself.

It was too late. The remaining Death Eaters had heard the noise. Damn disease! She forced herself to stand and fought to reach the door anyway. If she could lose herself in the bushes, she could still reach the broomshed and get the broom to fly out of here...

But the Death Eaters were sliding into the kitchen only a moment later, one from each end. "Expelliarmus," she croaked, shocked that it still worked. The wand when shooting and bounced against the wall behind her, but the small man was barely thrown back. "Expelliarmus!" she cried again at the other man, only a little stronger, at the same moment that he yelled it at her. The wands flew out of both of their hands. One hit a cabinet and smashed the glass, remaining lodged inside. The other rocketed through a window, shattering the glass and sending it flying out into the snow. He did not hesitate for a second, he pelted toward her with his arms outstretched to grab her.

She did the only thing she could think to do, she ran. She stopped at the stove and let him come at her, apparently having all but forgotten that he was wizard. He was going to use brute force to overwhelm this slip of a girl, but he had forgotten that she was a magician. And what always saves a magician when you think that they are outwitted is what they have hiding up their sleeve.

When he was five feet away, Marissa grabbed the handle to the over door behind her back. When he was two feet away she threw it open and jumped clear to the top of the stove above it and giving him a slight push down using his own momentum, sending the man hurtling face and hands first into the burning Christmas turkey.

He screamed in agony and Marissa jumped to the island in the middle of the kitchen, making for the other side of the large kitchen. However, the smaller man had found one of the wands, it hadn't been hard to find a fallen wand in the kitchen by that point.

He immediately fired a spell at her. The larger man appeared to be permanently stuck in the turkey. Marissa dropped into a roll that took her right off the island in the kitchen and landed her gracefully on the ground on her feet. She had had to become amazingly agile to become a Muggle magician. The dancing helped too. That was why she missed the spell that would have killed her in her weakened state.

That was also why she had time to use another, stronger, pouch of smoke that she had kept hidden in a drawer in the kitchens just to annoy Mavi. She propelled the knifes she found in the general direction of the smaller man just as the kitchen filled with a thick purple smoke. She didn't hear a cry of pain, so she doubted that she had hit him, but she had already rolled out of the doggy door and into the front yard.

She crouch there panting, the cold air snapping her thoughts back into her head. How had she gotten out that doggy door? Had she had that much magic running through her? She did feel powerful and healthy when she was fighting. She didn't have time to analyze why, however, she had to think of what she was going to do next.

The purple smoke was lasting longer than the first pouch had, but she would still need to get out of sight of the windows fast. Vanishing her footprints behind her every few seconds with the wand she found in the snow, Marissa sprinted, crouched low to stay under the windows, until she reached the broomshed. She ducked behind it and pulled out the pick she always kept in her pocket next to her wand. For the first time in her life, she regretted her arrogance and stubborness at refusing to learn Alohomora in first year.

She still had the lock open in record time and pulled her faithful old broomstick out of the shed. Now, she just had to get Gus and the two of them could sneak back out.

She mounted and rose up into the air, wishing that it weren't full moon. She didn't like how visible she would be in the silver light or the fact that Remus seemed so very far away on these nights. She wanted the thought of him close this night. He would still have been no where near London, but it would have felt less terrible to think of him sitting by his fire rather than transformed into a viscious wolf.

But she had her own Dark creatures to deal with at the moment. She had meant to go in through a first story window, hoping that they would still be searching the ground floor. She was lucky she could swerve out of sight so quickly, because she heard them tearing a room apart just before she tried to open the window.

"She has to be here somewhere, we made sure to seal the house off this time," the smaller man was muttering.

"A Mudblood," the larger said disgustedly. "One of us should have been enough to dispatch her. And she's bested three."

"Not yet," the smaller man snapped.

"She was certainly a match for your wife," the larger man snarled nastily.

Marissa cursed silently and as fluently as Severus Snape. They had sealed the house to keep her in. Ironic, really, considering now she couldn't get into the house. She considered, very briefly, going straight for help, but the closest place she knew to look was too far away. It wasn't safe to leave Gus alone in the house with them. Even if they didn't know about him, they could stumble onto him, and what if they did something like burn the house down with Gus trapped inside?

"She should have triggered the alarm trying to get out by now," the voice of the smaller man said irritably. "What is she doing all this time? She only has to trigger the alarm once!"

She would have to find a way in. But what way was there into a house that wasn't a door or a window? A tunnel, but that was hardly practical. If it had been any other day of the year, the second option would never have ocurred to her. She flew up to the roof and found the chimney that (she thought at least) would bring her closest to Gus's closet. She examined the opening. She could probably blast the top off and levitate the pieces safely to a level spot on the second floor. "Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound," Marissa muttered with a smile. That was the next line in the poem. So she blasted off the top and floated it gently to a ledge on the second floor. Then she looked down the chimney.

Perhaps St. Nick could go down chimneys so often that he made it look easy, but Marissa could quickly see that it was impossible for a mere mortal like herself as she hovered above it. It was a straight drop to the bottom, very narrow, barely enough room for her body. And at the bottom it was a perfect ninety degree turn with no area to spin off. It had to be done precisely right. Maybe James could have done it, and he certainly would have attempted it, but for Marissa it was impossible. They could probably go back up it once she got Gus, but she couldn't go down it.

She hovered there in defeat for a moment before she remembered the window that had been broken by the flying wand in the kitchen. It was small, but she could fit through it. But would it still set off the alarm even if it couldn't keep her from getting in? And what if they knew about that? Would they be guarding the kitchen? She needed something to distract them anyway.

She floated down and picked up a decorative rock from the garden. Then she flew to the other side of the house and, grimacing, threw it at the window to her father's bedroom. They would have to run a long way to it in a path that wouldn't intersect with hers, and it was far from where Gus was. It should give her enough time. It bounced off and immediate a sound like a siren went off. "MASTER BEDROOM! MASTER BEDROOM!" It shouted repeatedly. Marissa immediately shot off straight over the house and down through the kitchen window. James himself would have been impressed with how cleanly she flew through the window.

She dismounted immediately, grabbing her broom and running as softly as she could toward the closet. She got the fright of her life when she saw the woman Death Eater lying at the opposite end of the hall, closer to Gus than she was, facing him. She had barely calmed down from this fright when she saw the woman stir.

Marissa started to run forward, meaning to stun her the moment that she could be sure she was awake. "Silencio!" she cried softly, sending the sparks at the woman. Unfortunately, this appeared to wake her fully up.

Worse still, Gus proved to be truly Marissa's brother. He was a Fletcher; he couldn't stay in a locked closet and trust whatever was happening to be handled best by others. He had picked the lock, just like she taught him. How did Marissa know this? The door was opening.

So the first thing that the woman saw was Gus jump fearfully and slam the door again, and the second was Marissa's face. Her own twisted into a maniacal expression.

Panic exploded in Marissa, and she threw caution to the winds, "Obliviate!" she yelled without even thinking. The first spell whooshed over the woman's head. The woman only grinned wider and more evilly. "Obliviate!" Marissa called again, taking careful aim. This one hit her directly in the face, but she merely shook herself. She was still looking at the door. Desperation siezed control of Marissa, and she screamed with all her passion and all her power one spell that she aimed levelly at the Death Eater woman who had stolen into her home. "OBLIVIATE!" Her voice rang through the corridors and the flash of red light lit them as it raced toward the woman who was beginning to get to her feet.

When it hit her, it knocked her over, and she fell, striking her head very hard on the floor. The woman looked up for a moment with confusion written on her face. "Oblivi-"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" a man's voice shouted from behind her.

Did you know that you could have ten thousand thoughts in a space of time not even great enough for you to turn around to see your death speeding towards you? You have time to see your brother being born and see him grow up before your very eyes. You have time to see him hurling a frozen turkey down a magically greased lane and chatting up Hufflepuff third years on the train to Hogwarts. You have time to see his eyes light up when you come home for the holidays. You have time to relive a hundred games of Star Wars with your hair in some ridiculous arrangement. You have time to read him "Twas the Night Before Christmas" ten times. You do not have time to save him from the Death Eaters that still threaten him.

You have time to see a nervous, shuffling boy walk up to you on the train your first time at Hogwarts and ask you if you are an angel. You have time to tell him that loyalty is the greatest virtue. You have time to see him win Capture the Flag for your team. You have time to see him come up to you in the Great Hall looking as if he has something that he desperately wants to tell you. You have time to realize the danger that he is in. You do not have time to confront or save him.

You have time to see a devastatingly handsome and reckless boy tromping into the Great Hall soaking wet with his smirking new best friend and a glowering new enemy in tow. You have time to see him save you from a monster of a boy. You have time to listen to him play the piano to soothe away his worries. You have time to sit and drink tea with him on the day that he ran away from home. You have time to relive a thousand bad puns based on his name spanning the years and one gentle, tentative, short kiss. You do not have time to tell him that he is family to you.

You have time to see a boy with perpetually messy hair rescue your new hat during your first flying lesson. You have time to paint his face in the sky. You have remember the thousands of ridiculous, nonsense rhymes you made up in his honor. You have time to shock him by asking for his Invisibility Cloak. You have time to count all of the times that you called him an idiot. You have time to dive between a duel between him and his mortal enemy. You have time to turn a hundred girls into his image. You do not have time to let him know that you think that he will be a great man someday.

You have time to sit down next to a girl with dark red hair nervously. You have time to relive the five and a half years that you shared in a small Tower Room together. You have time to found a Booster Club with her and badger her a thousand times about the boy you see as the love of her life. You have time to drag her out of bounds for an adventure countless times. You have time to defend her against any who would oppose her. You have time to relive the fight you had with her over telling the truth. You have time to call her a nickname that she dislikes enough times that she likes it coming from you. You do not have time to tell her that she has been the best friend you could ever have asked for and that she deserves to be Head Girl.

You have time to recall being assigned to partner a Slytherin with greasy hair and a bad attitude. You have time to laugh away a thousand insults from him. You have time to challenge him to accept you and deal with you. You have time to save him from an enemy who has him in his power. You have time to feel his somewhat slimy kiss again. You have time to feel your heart break anew as you picture the Dark Mark you saw on his arm. You have time to relive the fight you had with him about the traitor among your friends. You have time to realize how deeply he cared about you in his dark way. You do not have time to tell him that you cared about him as well.

You have time to glance curiously at a nervously shifting boy with mousy brown hair who is staring at the Sorting Hat almost as if he will demand that it reconsider his House. You have time to remember how it felt to look up into his comforting and caring eyes after the horror and fright of nearly being raped. You have time to feel the rush of electricity from the touch of his hand in yours as you begin to dance. You have time to recall each of the hundreds of dances that you shared together. You have time to have him whirl you about under the moon and stars on a grassy lawn in the summer one last time. You have time to drown in his understanding all over again. You have time to learn his secret. You have time to feel the pounding excitement of that first kiss which made your temples feel as if they would explode as the blood pounded forcefully through them at an absurdly fast rate. You have time to revisit each kiss since then, as powerful and tender and perfect as the first. You have time to joke and laugh with him. You have time to feel his ring slip on your finger. You have time to remember breaking his heart. You have time to see him turn back to you. You have time to hear his voice declaring his love for all of the world to hear. You have time to whisper to him over and over again that you love him. You do not have time to tell him that you will always be with him.

You have time for ten thousand memories but no more time to act on them, for then the green is upon you and overwhelming you and you are lost in a sea of blinding green light. Time dissolves away in the green light and however you try to hold to those memories and those thoughts and the happiness that you felt, all the moments slide away in the face of the green that is overwhelming you. But you can still feel a powerful tug that you know is what you felt in each of those moments. You can't even name it anymore, but you can feel the thing that you once knew was love pulling you out of the green relentlessly until it begins to fade away.

Your eyes see white light again and blink in its brilliance. You feel the love that pulled you through the green tugging at your memories and pulling each of them back to you in turn. You glance up as the green disappears completely, leaving you looking into sparkling blue eyes that people always said were so like your own set in the face of a kindly looking woman with a warm smile on her face.

Somehow you find your voice, not even aware that it is not a voice in the sense that it once was, and whisper in disbelief, "Mum?"

All of this you would have time to do in the time that it took for Marissa Fletcher to have turn before being hit with the Killing Curse and crumbling to the ground with Eris Goring's wand rolling out of her limp hand and the sparkle going out of her eyes forever.

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©KatyMulvaney5-12-2005