Severus, it appeared, had taken Lucius’ counsel and left the Potters alive. My spy within the Order informed me that there had been little change in the Potter household but, on viewing his thoughts, I could detect subtle changes. James Potter was morose, spending little time in his wife’s company and leaving the house if the slightest opportunity arose. Lily appeared similarly ill at ease; although her demeanour was intended to be light and cheerful, whenever she looked at Potter, there was a sneer in those Avada green eyes. 

However, a wizard, even one of my calibre, cannot concern himself with the lives of mayflies and, assured of my success, I allowed the Potters to slip from my mind. The winter of 1979 was, after all, a busy and largely satisfactory period; a number of audacious blood traitors needed to be neutralised and, what with training Severus in the finer aspects in occlumency, the remains of the year slipped away almost unnoticed.  

And, in early January, news arrived which eclipsed all lesser concerns. Having finished his training, Snape was staying in Hogsmeade, ostensibly to apply for the job of Potions Master but, in actuality, spying upon Dumbledore. I had installed Severus at the 'Three Broomsticks', given, firstly, the 'Hogs Head’s' allure to the insalubrious and, secondly, Dumbledore’s ‘friendliness’ with the barman, his brother Aberforth. However, given the way in which events unravelled, perhaps the 'Hogs Head' would have been the better option.  

Having obtained a copy of Dumbledore’s schedule by dint of merely summoning it through the open window of the old fool’s living chambers! (One would think that a man of Dumbledore’s supposed intelligence would ward such a dangerous document, especially given the proximity of the Forbidden Forest, through which any can enter the castle’s grounds!) Severus reported to me that the Headmaster’s only appointment for that particular week was to interview one Sibyl Trelawney, a talentless parvenu of a seer, at the Hogs Head. I did not have high hopes of gleaning any interesting information. However, hidden under the folds of cheap incense, paste jewellery and filmy apparel, beneath the faux-mystique and chimerical language, there was a spark of divinatory ability in the wretched witch. She made a prophecy. 

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ...” 

There was, apparently, more to be heard: Severus, having failed to disillusion himself, was caught by Dumbledore’s brother before Trelawney had finished conveying the full Prophecy. However, the section which Severus was able to disclose had, undoubtedly, been the most important of the information bestowed, so I wasn’t too harsh on the boy. No, I knew what I must do.  

oOoOo 

I count the first three months of 1980 as one of the most frustrating periods in my life; countering the Prophecy was, naturally, my first objective yet the only information with which my servants could provide me was useless. Upon my demand for my followers to render any information on children due to be born in the summer (I, naturally, did not entrust them with the Prophesy), Malfoy dutifully informed me that the birth of his son was predicted for the last week of July.  

I knew, immediately, that Lucius’ heir was, quite obviously, not the child I sought. While Lucius is not unaware of his value to my cause, he is not fool enough to chance even covert defiance: bending the rules, yes, mild presumption, yes, challenging a wizard with more power in his little finger than he, Lucius, has in his entire body, no. Lucius’ arrogance only reached so far.  

Thus, for months I had to be content with preparing the wizarding world for my putch. However, I am nothing if not a pragmatist, utilising my nervous energy and anger into pruning a number of irritating but (formerly) evasive thorns.   

However, as the tulips supplanted the daffodils (forgive me- the Malfoy grounds are nothing but flowers and I have little else to observe whilst constructing my plans), my spy in the Order- ah, I will not disclose his name, even to you- informed me that Lily Potter’s child was due in late July.  

In his youth, James had openly defied every authority, even going so far as to attempt to rile me, not realising, of course, that his schoolboy bravado was as the buzzing of a fly to a giant. The fool had not gained wisdom with his years and, after his Coming of Age, Potter had announced his affiliation to the Order of the Phoenix to any who would listen and boasted of his petty, if not entirely fictitious victories against the lowest of my servants. Yes, James Potter alone could, in his own, insignificant way, have ‘defied’ me thrice in any one day. I had my target. 

However, whenever one waits what feels like an eternity for something particular to arrive, a number turn up on one’s doorstep in quick succession. I had just informed my lieutenants that discovering the Potters whereabouts was of prime importance when my Order spy informed me that he had overheard Lily Potter and Alice Longbottom discussing their unborn babes at the Order’s headquarters. The Longbottom woman, blood-traitor that she was, had joked about their offspring being brothers in arms- both were predicted for the same week!  

Frank and Alice Longbottom were Aurors and, being both senior and rather ruthless, they had crossed swords with my Death Eaters on a regular basis. It would be a fair bet that they had vicariously ‘defied’ me at least thrice during their careers.

Thus another possible target materialised. However, upon investigation, it appeared that, like the Potters, the Longbottoms had also left their ancestral home. Dumbledore had, no doubt, warned both couples as soon as he realised the implications of the Prophecy; my Order spy informed me, holed them up in the Order’s headquarters which was protected by the Fidelus Charm. 

As the Secret Keeper of the Order, Dumbledore’s continued existence was becoming increasingly problematic and, therefore, I had no qualms in accepting young Snape’s suggestion that he remove to Hogsmeade, to renew his application for the post of Potions Master.  

However, before he left, Severus made a second request which was rather more singular; the boy had, apparently, enjoyed bedding his mudblood and hoped that, if Lily’s death would not serve me, I might spare her. She was unimportant, a mere house-mouse, uninvolved with the war effort and, Severus muttered, I had, after all, granted him her life. 

As presumptuous as the boy was, I saw the logic in his argument. Although my original plan had been to eradicate the Potters, I would not have, otherwise, granted the girl the honour of being killed at my minion’s hands, let alone my own; she was thoroughly insignificant. All in all, Lily Potter’s life was only of use to Severus and, thus, I told him that the girl remained his.  

oOoOo 

1980 was the only year, to date, when we did not celebrate Samhain. None of my spies had gleaned any information of worth on the Potters and Longbottoms whereabouts. Their sons' births had, apparently, been carried out within the Order's headquarters; my contacts at St Mungos had seen neither hide nor hair of either woman, my people at the Ministry had found no reports to deliver and even the Order Spy, while not entirely empty-handed, had his hands bound by the Fidelus.

The only positive news was that Severus had finally fooled Dumbledore into giving him the position of Potions Master and, while the Headmaster remained wary of Severus, he was warming to the boy. I had chosen well yet the pleasure of this small success was nothing compared to my growing anxiety over the Potters and Longbottoms. Would I have to wait until the boys attended Hogwarts?

All in all, this was the winter of our discontent and I was in no mood for idle revelry.

Another year passed. Oh, it was a dark year, despite the successful accomplishment of many objectives which, previously, had been of utmost importance. However, to a leader of my calibre, victories, however dazzling they may be to other eyes, are almost inconsequential; a feast may be a miracle to a starved man but, to one sated with food is scarcely worth a thought. Yes, I had succeeded in everything I have planned to accomplish that year, save for the cause closest to my heart.  

The Potters and Longbottoms remained outside my reach and not one of my spies had uncovered anything of worth, despite the Longbottoms having removed from the Order’s Headquarters. No, it was not until that August that Travers told me that they had discovered the Longbottoms’ location but, while a lesser man may have leapt upon this opportunity, I knew that it would be a case of more haste, less speed. I wanted both families and, if I struck the Longbottoms before I knew the Potters location, Dumbledore might move the Potters into deeper hiding.  

It was highly frustrating.  

However, while ‘luck’ is relied upon only by the idle, let it not be said that Lord Voldemort does not create opportunities for ‘lucky’ chances to manifest. The Order Spy, whom, up to this point, had been so useless that many other, inferior leaders would have dispatched of him, suddenly- and quite unexpectedly- was able to give me the information that I so desperately sought.  

Potter was growing restless, my spy informed me; he longed for the open air of the countryside and, as Lily felt similarly claustrophobic, they had decided to remove to a new location. Originally, Potter had elected Black, his blood-traitor friend, as Secret-Keeper, but my spy, sneaky little rodent that he is, had fed a stream of poison into Potters ear, whispering that Greyback’s clan had sworn allegiance to me, hinting that, as the werewolf who bit him, Greyback was Remus’ alpha, idly mentioning that Remus had been rather absent of late.

Indeed, it was very subtly done and, soon enough, Sirius asked whether it might be better if Potter chose a different Secret-Keeper, one whose identity was not known by Remus. Not that Remus would intentionally betray them but a careless word… How foolish! Men will sell each other as soon as it serves their self-interest to do so, no matter how close they had once been. However, I do accept that Sirius Black was telling the truth when he said that he’d rather die than inadvertently betray them; a strain of insanity runs throughout that bloodline, I am afraid. 

Thus, my spy became their Secret-Keeper and, in the early evening of Samhain, I left my followers to their celebrations and apparated to Godrics Hollow. Yes, Potter, in his arrogance, had moved back to the village of his birth, thinking I would not suspect him of such abundant stupidity. 

The only thing to be decided was with regards to which family I should neutralise first. Both couples were equally elusive, both were skilled in combat and both had friends who might visit at any time. It was a difficult choice, even for one of my intellect, but, in the end, I chose not to rely on my mind but on my gut; the Potter boy was a half-blood, like myself. I would destroy him first. 

oOoOo 

When I arrived in Godric’s Hollow, I wasted no time in discovering the location of the Potter’s residence, which was fortunate, considering the events which followed. The house was certainly less conspicuous than the manor; a mere cottage set within in a large plot of land. Disillusioning myself, I crept across the garden and broke the lock with a silent blasting charm. An element of surprise is always useful; if one can kill before one’s opponent raises their wand the chance of injury is reduced.  

It was I however, who was surprised to hear the mudblood scream, at the top of her voice:  

“You cannot take my son, you bastard!”  

“Oh no? He’s my heir! The law says he belongs with me!” A man replied.

The girl laughed shrilly. “No, by law he’s Severus Snape’s!” 

Breath hissed in my lungs and I fought the sudden desire to laugh. Why had I not realised it before?! From October 31st to July 31st is almost exactly nine months! The child’s sire was not Potter but Severus- one of the most loyal of my servants! 

My thoughts were interrupted by a scream. With snake-strike swiftness, my subconscious struck, propelling me at almost apparation speed into the Drawing Room.

When I arrived, it was to observe the mudblood lying on the floor, her auburn hair emphasising the deathly pallor of her countenance. Potter stood over her, as if stunned, his mouth gaping and eyes glazed with shock. In the background, a child, presumably Severus’ brat, cried. 

The girl’s suitcase, (its pattern- pink flowers clustered against a cream background- suggested a female owner) lay beside her, like a severed kidney, and a fading purple stain was spread across the bodice of her pale dress. 

Having cast locomotor-totalis on James Potter, I walked over to the mudblood's inert form. Yes, the purple stain was diagnostic; the boy had attempted ‘Dragon’s Breath’; a usually fatal curse which attacks the internal organs. However, as the silly bint was still breathing, Potter had obviously possessed neither the power nor the experience to do it properly.  

As much as it pains me, I admit that I revived her, casting the counter-curse and various healing spells. The information which she possessed was, potentially, worth these small attentions. Once a little colour had returned to her cheeks, I turned to Potter.  

“Legilimens!” 

-- 

Unshaven, Potter sat at a wooden table, reading the Daily Prophet; his toast shedding crumbs which pattered over the clean kitchen floor. In the centre of the table, a few inches in front of his plate, stood an empty blue vase. A fuzzy figure, noticeable only because of her flame red-hair, bustled in the background, ferrying a weeping lump, obviously the child, around on her hip. 

“I’ve invited the boys ‘round for supper.” He said, idly wiping his jam smeared fingers along the hem of the white linen table-cloth.  The vague figure stiffened, paused but said nothing.

Potter did not notice. 

-- 

Through the drawing-room’s mullioned windows, the noonday sun streamed, glinting gold across Lily Potter’s hair and shimmering blue-black over the brat’s messy mane as he swept around on his toy broomstick, squealing with glee. The door creaked open and James Potter stepped in. 

“Right, I’m off.” He said casually. “We’ll be back around seven.” 

“Fine.” She replied, her eyes not leaving the child. 

Potter’s brow furrowed and he scratched his coal black hair. “Oh, and Lil?” 

“What?” 

“Do something about the dress. You look like something the cat dragged in.” 

-- 

When Potter stepped through the back door, into the kitchen, the table was laid for five people, a bunch of berry laden twigs crammed into the vase. On the hotplate, a large cauldron of stew simmered, the inch-wide crusted line showing that it had been doing so for some time. Dumplings, shrunken slightly by their exposure to the air, sat in a bowl, and a cold loaf of bread lay, forlornly, on a cooling rack.

The clock revealed that it’s ten minutes past eight. 

The mudblood was upstairs, sitting on the bed. A heavy book lay in her listless hand.  

“Your friends aren’t with you” she said. It’s a statement rather than a question.  

“Nah, we decided to eat down the pub.” 

“And you didn’t think to contact me?” Lily asked, her tone hard.  

“You just made stew, Lil. It’ll keep.” 

“I might have cooked something else!” green eyes narrowed. I believe the appropriate phrase is ‘if looks could kill’. 

“Well you didn’t.” James said, over his shoulder, as he walked out of the room.  

-- 

Potter was sitting in an armchair, reading a book on Quidditch; mostly pictures of complicated manoeuvres completely inappropriate for aerial battle. The door opened and he looked up.  

Lily stood there; freshly showered, her hair smoothed into an elegant bun. Her eyelashes were heavy with mascara and the splash of purple on the lids only served to emphasise the vivid green of her eyes. The white tea-dress clung to her full figure and a light, floral scent meandered through the air.  

James stood up, a foolish grin on his face. Then he saw the heavy bag at her side.  
“Going somewhere?” he asked uncertainly. 

“I’m leaving you.” The ruby mouth replied. Those green eyes are harder than emerald and, for a moment, I almost admire the mudblood.  

“What?!” the fool appeared genuinely surprised, despite the fact that he had been treating the woman like a house elf. (Although I class mudbloods with elves, I would not countenance marrying one!) 

“It’s over, James. You want to lead a bachelor life. Fine! But don’t expect me to stick around.” 

“You can’t leave!” 

“I can and will.” She snarled. “Ever since we were married, you’ve been different. It’s like I’ve had the shelf life of bread! Yes, you were ‘Prince Charming’ to begin with, when you were still pursuing me, but as soon as you won me, it was as if I was going stale.” 

“I’ve done no such thing!” 

“Oh, it started slowly at first” Lily continued, as if Potter had not spoken “A few nights a week down the pub with your mates, the dishes from your lunch left in the sink. I accepted that. I was okay with it. But slowly… it was as if I became your Mum or something! Dirty washing left in the basket, your breakfast things just left on the table! Crisp packets and cigarette dishes overflowing with ash in the lounge… And every night, every damn night with your friends. And most of the weekends as well.” 

“Well, they’re my friends Lily! You couldn’t expect me to stop seeing them when I married you?!” 

“You stopped me seeing my friend when we started dating!” The girl growled, her eyes alight with anger. 

“What! As far as I can recall, you never stop gossiping with Molly and Alice and whatshername.” 

“I’m not talking about them. They do not matter!” 

“Lily! That’s a terrible…” 

“Shut up, James! As if you have any right to judge me!” 

James sighed, his expression weary “Look, go upstairs to bed; you’re overemotional. Probably that time of the month.” 

Lily’s mouth was a square of fury. “You stopped me from seeing Severus!” 

James gaped, like that of one under the asphyxia mortis curse. “Why would you even want to?” he finally manages. 

“Because Severus is dignified, cultured, thoughtful, charming, intelligent, self-effacing… Everything, in short, that you’re not!” she shrieks, her fists clenched white.  

“You can not be talking about Snivellus!” 

A vase whistled past James face and smashed against the fireplace. 

“Do! Not! Call! Him! That! Name!” Lily ground out. “I should have known better, James, after seeing the way you treated him all those years!” 

“He deserved it!” 

“Why?! What had he ever done to you?!” 

“Come on, Lily” James sneered “He’s a Death-Eater!” 

“Only because of you!” 

“Me!” James shouted, an ugly flush burning across his cheeks

“That one was born bad! He knew more dark spells as a first year…” 

“And I knew as many! He shared everything, everything with me” Tears brimmed in Lily’s eyes, her mouth trembled. 

“Well, that was his fault.” 

“And whose fault was it that he knew them? Huh?! It was his Mum’s. She taught him because she thought he’d be picked on by pureblood bigots like you!” 

“Bigots? I wasn't the one sorted into Slytherin, dear!”  

“Because you don’t have the brains, James! You picked on Sev because he was poor and hadn’t been brought up like you.”  

“He gave as good as he got!” 

“Four against one, James,” Lily snorted “but that’s beside the point. I’m going now. Don’t come after me.” 

“You’re not taking Harry!” 

“Oh, you know his name?! Well done, James!” 

“I spend as much time with my son as you.” Lily smirked, a strange light glowing in her eyes “Only when he is fed and changed and happy. Oh, and when Sirius or Remus or Peter aren’t around.”  

“That’s beside the point.” James thrust his hands into his pockets and glared at Lily “Go spend some time with your Mother. It’s obvious that you need to get your head straight!”  

“Harry is coming with me, James and there is nothing, nothing! you can do about it!” 

“I can call in the Aurors.” James replied, his eyes cold “You are in no fit state to take care of a child. Perhaps this is that post-natal stress thing. Maybe it is best that you go away for a while.”

 “You cannot take my son, you bastard!”  

“Oh no?” James said haughtily. “He’s my heir! The law says he belongs with me!” 

Lily laughs, her voice harsh and brittle. “No, by law he’s Severus Snape’s!” 

-- 

When I resurfaced from James’ mind, I paused, thinking of how best to deal with the man. I could not suffer one who had defied me to live, naturally, but how to end his life? An ancient memory of an ever more antiquated spell uncoiled in my mind. I had, years ago now, learnt it with a view to testing it on my father. It is a retribution curse, reputedly used by village counsels in the time of the Saxons. If a man had not caused intentional, physical harm to his wife, the spell would have no effect. If he had, no further punishment was necessary. 

“Sárcwide Morðorléan”  

A rich, pink light swelled from my wand and closed around Potter’s wand-hand. To my delight, the skin split open to reveal fracturing bones and the fat boiled, searing into his muscle. Slowly, exquisitely slowly, the spell travelled up his arm, like a lover’s caress.  

“sárcwide morðorléan”; I condemn you to your just punishment. Gryffindor boys should not play with Slytherin toys unless they are willing to pay the price: the Dragonbreath curse is one which even I reserve only for those who have committed the most heinous offences against my person. It is certainly not one a man should ever use against his wife; if one does not wish to be cuckolded, one does not marry a mudblood.  

Reluctantly, I turned to the girl. Her breath was, once again, becoming laboured. I fished around in my pocket and found a bottle, a powerful restorative which I always carry upon my person. 

It had transpired that I had, within my hands, a gift. When I first heard the truth behind little Harry’s paternity, I had planned to deliver the child into his father’s care; Severus would bond with his son and vice versa, providing me with added assurance of the former’s loyalty and the latter’s allegiance. However, now it appeared that Lily would be a willing concubine for Severus, allowing the wretched woman to die would be to deprive myself of an additional safeguard. Neither Harry nor Severus would dare to even consider contemplating defiance if it endangered dear Lily. And the mudblood would owe me a life-debt.  

All in all, it was worth stifling my ire over the months I had wasted in needless effort and frustration. I am, after all, a man of considerable self-control.  

Having cast a disillusionment charm on Potter- I don’t want the girl distracted- I spelled the draught of healing potion into her stomach and, after allowing a minute for it to absorb into her bloodstream, cast renovate.    

Green eyes fluttered open, then widened in shock. 

“Legilimens”  

-- 

Warmth, softness, the violet streaked whiteness of unconsciousness, then light, it’s brightness forcing her eyes open. A figure, tall, slim yet broad-shouldered stood in the foreground, his face obscured by the deep hood of his midnight robe. Around her, the upholstered leather of a sofa, in front of her, the green of a room, the rich furniture of which has become so familiar as to be almost invisible.  

“Are you experiencing any dizziness” he asked, in a voice which did not belong to his form. 

“Severus?!” 

“No.” He pauses before continuing in an urgent tone, “Is your head paining you in any way? Does any other part of your body hurt?” 

She shakes her head, the movement causing her auburn hair to kink as it catches in the lace collar of her nightdress. Green eyes narrow.  

“Who are you?” 

“A friend. Now you must listen; the Dark Lord, wishing to reward me, gave me your lives, to do with as I chose. However, it is not my intention to harm you. You must not…” 

A pale arm shot from the covers and wrenched the hood away from Severus’ face. For a moment, the man and the woman stood glaring at each other; the candle-light emphasised the deep, sea blue of Severus’ eyes and hair and the fiery tones of Lily’s flame red hair and eyes which, for the moment, were the green blue of the inner core of a flame.   

“It would have been better” he said, replacing his cowl with a single, stiff movement “if you had not done that.” 

The mudblood folded her arms, completely unafraid “Don’t want me to see what you’ve become, Severus?” 

He flinched then, taking a deep breath, continued “You would be wise to not leave the house, at least for a few months, and, if you are able to convince your husband” Severus tone turned arctic “that it would be in your best interest for him to refrain from his usual exuberance, so much the better. His arrogance has brought him to the Dark Lord’s attention and, whilst the Dark Lord has little time for schoolboy bravado, he will not endure further provocation. Next time it might not be me he sends!” 

The woman paled, her mouth twisting. Finally she said “Doesn’t that title, ‘the Dark Lord’, taste like vomit in your mouth? You know what he is, Sev.” 

“I am in a position to be somewhat better informed than you, Lily.” He replied haughtily. “The current system is wrong! On the first sign of instability, wizards are locked away in institutions, lest they inadvertently breach the Statute of Secrecy, whereas muggles with mental illnesses are given as normal a life as their symptoms allow. Muggleborns are left with families ill equipped to cater for the needs of a magical child and I need not tell you that there have been several deaths, three of them well publicised during our youth, of muggles killing their magical offspring, believing them to be devils! And the marriage question; you know what happened with my parents! Had my mother’s magic been bound…” 

“Spare me the ideology, Sev, the man’s not just a terrorist but a sadist to boot; he goes around torching muggle homes for fun!” 

“That is merely Ministry rumour-mongering.” (This caused me to smile inwardly; bar a couple of assassinations, Severus’s short time in my service had initially been spent in Potions Research, then on spying. The boy preferred to spend his evenings with his books.) 

“And what about the murders, Sev? Just last week the Edgar Bones, his wife and kids were killed. You can’t pretend that they are rumours!” 

“I am sure the bodies of Martha and Robert Travers, 16 and 18 years of age, currently mouldering, soul-less in Azkaban are not rumours either” he replies shortly. “Their only crime was to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I doubt they’d have even been convicted had their Uncle not been a known Death-Eater! Your precious Dumbledore entered a guilty verdict, despite their wands being clean. That man has more blood on his hands than you know.” 

“Dumbledore voted as he thought right.” She said staunchly. 

“Yes.” Severus sneered “Some of us are born ‘good’, like Potter, and will remain so regardless of our actual behaviour and, others, like me and the Travers kids, are born ‘bad’ and nothing can be done- by ourselves or others- to change that. If little Jamie sets a werewolf on wicked Severus; it was just boyish hijinks and Severus probably deserved it anyway. If Severus uses a cutting curse when being attacked, four against one, he is threatened with expulsion and given a term’s worth of detention.” 

“Dumbledore…” 

“Is a fallible man who plays favourites, Lily. James was never worth so high a regard and I had done nothing to earn such distain.” 

“I know” Tears shone in the mudblood’s eyes. “I’ve learnt a lot about James of late.”

“What has he done?” Each word was slowly chipped from an iceberg of fury.  

“Nothing as such. It’s just… Well at first he was so sweet; it was as if I was the most fascinating person in the world, he couldn’t spend enough time with me, my thoughts were always interesting, my opinion was always important. And, even when he wasn’t able to be with me, it was like I was always on his mind; he bought me little gifts all the time, be they a few wildflowers from the hedgerow or a piece of jewellery. It was like everything reminded him of me. But” she sniffed “After he’d won me over, well, it was great for a bit but slowly…” Lily sighed. “I’ve become about as important to him as his damn elf. Yes, he’s pleasant to me, stops to say goodbye on the way out and hello on the way in from being with his mates but...” 

“‘Indifference is the essence of inhumanity.’ George Bernard Shaw.” Severus quoted. 

Huge, tear-filled green eyes looked up at him “You always have had a way of saying what I mean in a sentence, Sev.” She sobbed.  

Hesitating, seemingly unsure of what to do, Severus stepped closer. Lily moved along the sofa, creating a space for him, and the young man sat down.   

With trembling hands, Lily pushed the hood away from his face and, with trembling lips, kissed him.  

-- 

She strode up the winding staircase, slowly fastening the tiny, close set buttons along the long sleeves of her nightdress. The redness around her eyes contradicted by her straight back and grim smile.  

Potter's hazel eyes widened with surprised relief as Lily stepped into the bedroom with the measured tread of a stalking cat. (He was, naturally, still bound by locomotor totalis; when I cast a spell, it holds indefinitely.) As she approached, his gaze flickered to her red rimmed eyes. 

“Oh, don’t worry about me.” She said with a harsh smile. “Nothing happened. At least, nothing against my will.”   

Ignoring her husband’s franticly questioning eyes, Lily walked over to her Venetian bedside table and removed a wand from the small, silk-lined draw.  

“I expect I’ll become used to doing this!” she said, banishing a fallen pile of clothes into neat piles on the wardrobe shelf. “And this!” the muddy footprints vanished, “And that!” the bed re-made itself. “You never pick up after yourself, you’ve never had to and I expect you’ll never even consider it.  

You don’t consider a lot of things, do you James? Not that I might want to spend the occasional Saturday evening alone with you, not that my families birthdays may just be more important than watching a quidditch match, not that I may feel uncomfortable with you and your friends crashing around this place as if it were a bachelor pad. No, worse- a quidditch cloakroom!  

But, you know what” she said, tucking her wand into her sleeve and turning to face him “I’ve decided something: I don’t care any longer. If you want to pretend to be single: fine. I’m not going to chase after you or struggle to keep your attention or, in fact, bother about you at all. Severus was right,” Lily snarled at her wide-eyed husband, “You are an arrogant prick.” 

James’ rigid form lifts off the ground and hovers across to the bed, where she drops him with a thump.  

“Obliviate!”  

-- 

Although the drab, brown room was barely big enough to accommodate a chest of draws, crib and the double bed in which she lay, the girl’s green eyes were alight with joy as she observed the tiny, wrinkled, creature swaddled against her chest, bare save for the tuft of smooth, blue-black hair on his head. The baby opens his eyes; one bluer than they sky, the other greener than grass. The effect, while strange, is not unattractive.  

“My beautiful, beautiful boy.” She whispers. Her mouth moves, silently miming the words ‘I wish your father could see you.” (Lip-reading is a very useful skill, one which I had learnt before I even reached Hogwarts, but that is another story.) Reaching down the side of her bed, Lily retrieved her wand.

The heterochromic eyes were the first to go, the blue iris shifting hue to match it’s grass green twin. Then the child’s jaw-line shifted, it’s nose shrank to a minute, yet noticeable degree. When the tuft of hair kinked into a wayward thatch, she paused. 

“No, I doubt anyone will notice.” She smiled, running a strand of blue-black hair through her fingers. 

“Notice what, love?” cried a fat, red-haired biddy as she bustled through the door, an overlaiden tray in her plump hands.

The mud-blood’s startled expression settled into a smile “If I eat a couple more of your chip butties, Molly.” She laughs, prodding her still swollen stomach. 

“Ah well, my girl, men like a few curves on their women” she winked before announcing “Tomato sauce, salt and enough vinegar to float a platoon. Call if you want another. After all, whilst the cat’s away…”

“Do you know when the boys are due to get back?” Lily asked, straightening up from placing her son in his crib. 

“Not for an hour yet, love” Molly sighed, placing the tray on Lily’s lap.

“Such a shame James missed the birth.” 

“Yes, a shame indeed.” 

-- 

“Well, well, well” I murmured, looking down at the terrified girl. 

“Please… not Harry!” she stammered, tears brimming. “Anything you want… just not him.” 

I laughed. “‘Harry’ is of no consequence, you stupid girl. Had you only been honest as to his paternity, I would not have paid you the honour of my attention. As it is, I am already wasting time that could be better spent.” 

Pressing my wand against my upper-arm, I turned my back on the girl and strode out of the room, into the hallway.

As I opened the front door, I heard two voices murmur in surprise; one soprano, the other baritone. Then the woman’s sobs join those of her noisy brat. I smile; two July-born children down, one to go.

Severus smiles indulgently. “A thing of beauty is a joy forever, its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness but still will keep a bower quiet for us and a sleep…”