Precarious Defences: June 1980 - June 1981

Precarious Defences

~*~ June 1980 ~*~

Severus

It was very, very small, reddish in colour after a high-pitched screaming fit, and sported a shock of white-blond hair atop its surprisingly pointy head. Its tiny fists were pounding rhythmically into the mattress of its little cot, demanding something it wasn't getting quickly enough. Yes, this child was certainly Malfoy's son; Severus had seen that expression on the elder Malfoy's face on more than one occasion.

"Isn't he beautiful?" gushed a tired, but still ravishingly beautiful, Narcissa Malfoy.

Severus suppressed an urge to squirm in the leather armchair he was sitting in, uncertain as to the appropriate wizarding protocol for responding to the presentation of a newborn pure-blood. And with Malfoy watching, he didn't want to get it wrong.

"Who is he...Draco... named for?" He decided that asking an alternative question would be the best strategy under these unfamiliar circumstances.

Malfoy sat by Narcissa's side in their summer parlour, besotted in a way Severus had never seen before. He stroked his wife's hand, staring at the infant intently, as if it might vanish if he dared to look away, even for a moment.

"My father wanted to name him after his father," said Malfoy with a bit of hesitation.

"I refused to allow my child to be named after a man-eating plant!" scoffed Narcissa with a small, dismissive wave of her hand. "He's named after my favourite cousin on my mother's side." She smiled at her husband. "It's enough that he looks like a Malfoy, my dear. When he grows up I'm sure he'll have all the witches vying for his attention. Just like his father."

Malfoy preened and kissed her hand. "He should be as fortunate as I, to meet the perfect witch."

Severus began to twitch in discomfort at this appalling picture of a domesticated Lucius Malfoy. While he didn't doubt that the Malfoy loved his wife, Severus also knew that the man kept a string of mistresses at his beck and call. That, and the fact that Malfoy was a brutal murderer and frequent despoiler of lesser women, made it hard to reconcile the man he knew with the fawning husband and father that sat before him.

"Lucius, we have a guest that you need to attend to," said Narcissa, pushing Malfoy away gently. "Forgive my husband, Severus. You'd think he was the first man to ever sire an heir!"

"None of them can hold a candle to either you or the child," sniffed Malfoy. "You're both mine and, therefore, superior to them all."

Narcissa laughed. "Of course, my dear. I can hear them all keening with envy as we speak!" She stood and reached into the cot to pick up the baby, who had fallen asleep. "You two carry on. I'm going to take Draco upstairs. Will you be staying for dinner, Severus?"

"Thank you, Narcissa. I'd be delighted to join you... if you don't think I'd be intruding on your family celebration."

"We consider you part of our family, Severus. You know that. Why, you're practically an uncle to our little Draco!" And, as she left the room, she gave Severus one of her dazzling smiles...the kind that, after all this time, still made him catch his breath and go weak in the knees.

"She is lovely, isn't she?" remarked Malfoy after she'd gone, regarding Severus with amusement.

Severus felt like he'd been caught wrong-footed. "I only have the highest regard and respect for your wife, Lucius!" he spluttered in self-defence.

"Relax, Severus," Malfoy said with a satisfied smirk. "I don't mind that my wife is the envy of other men any more than they might admire one of my newly acquired paintings or a rare vintage wine. It's a compliment really." Lucius stood and made his way across the parlour to the table where a crystal decanter of brandy and several glasses were set. He poured the amber liquid into two of the glasses and handed one to his former protégé.

"Our master has been speaking highly of you," he said, settling himself in the armchair next to Severus. He crossed his legs and regarded Severus through the glass in his hands. "Very highly indeed."

"Has that proven beneficial to you, Lucius?" Severus knew that Malfoy would only relay a compliment if there was something in it for him in exchange.

"It has, of course," acknowledged Malfoy. "But I mention it because you deserve the recognition and our master's pleasure."

"I'm honoured to be acknowledged." Severus felt his heart skip a beat, but schooled his features to remain impassive. Since he had provided Voldemort with the words of the overheard prophecy, Severus had been well rewarded. But now, gazing levelly at his mentor, he realised the greatest reward was in holding information that Malfoy wasn't privy to...and he could see that Malfoy wasn't happy about it. For the first time, Severus felt the advantage in their relationship and found that he relished it immensely.

"It appears that you are about to be raised into the Inner Circle, Severus. My congratulations." Malfoy raised his glass in salute.

Severus raised his own glass. "Thank you, Lucius. Of course I owe my success entirely to your support. You know I will always be in your debt, even as we work side-by-side to support our master."

Malfoy smiled and nodded with a glint of something like jealousy flaring in his eyes. Their glasses came together, the sound of crystal meeting crystal ringing a bit too harshly in the parlour.

********

Dinner that night was a formal affair, as was the custom in Malfoy Manor. Severus recalled his visit here on that long-ago Christmas holiday and the feel of the elegant robes he'd worn for the first time the night before the Malfoys' engagement celebration. Tonight, Narcissa was looking resplendent in pale green silk and was chattering on about a charity event for St. Mungo's.

"It seems that little Draco will have lots of schoolmates when he starts at Hogwarts! Christina McNair and I were at the hospital last week to meet with the Director about the upcoming benefit. We passed through the pre-natal ward, and there were so many pregnant witches who looked ready to deliver!"

Severus stopped chewing for the briefest moment. Then he swallowed the bite of codfish. He wanted to ask for names, but he knew there was no way to do so without arousing suspicion. Luckily, Malfoy came to his aide.

"As long as they are producing more pure-blood wizarding stock," Malfoy sniffed. "Our numbers are dangerously low."

Narcissa nodded. "Of course you're right, dear. Although most of our sort don't go to hospital. So, I suppose the ones I saw weren't in our circle... though they may have been pure-blood." She pondered this conundrum with an unattractive furrow in her brow. "It is rather hard to tell from the looks alone." She waved it away with a small wave of her fork and then suddenly brightened.

"Oh! I do know one was a pure-blood! I saw that woman who married that Longbottom chap. What's her name? Anne? Agnes? Severus, I think she was in your year."

"Alice," Severus replied evenly.

Narcissa beamed. "Yes, Alice! And you'll never guess who she was with!"

Severus felt the hairs on the back of his neck go up. Malfoy rolled his eyes, but proceeded to indulge his wife's love of gossip. "Who would that be, dear?"

"That Mudblood, Lily Potter!" she announced with a satisfied grin. "Alice must have been there to help that Potter woman," she said, as if she'd just solved a puzzle. "Augusta Longbottom would never allow her daughter-in-law to be in the care of an ordinary Healer." Narcissa sniffed as she cut into her fish. "Actually, I'm surprised Augusta permits their friendship at all."

Malfoy was scowling. "The Potters are too high-born to snub. They must be appalled that their son and his Mudblood wife are nothing but crass, publicity-mongering trolls." Malfoy tucked back into his meal, and Narcissa continued to chatter on, but Severus had ceased listening.

. . .BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES. . .

Severus' mind began calculating feverishly. Lily was pregnant! The attempted kidnapping... the battle in the caverns... twice defied, not 'thrice'... seventh month... end of July. It could be either...the Longbottoms had been with the Potters both times. Both were due... soon. It wasn't an exact match, but... Severus knew that Voldemort was actively seeking out those who might fit the prophecy. Would he turn his sights to Lily? She couldn't be, though. It didn't fit. As long as she wasn't foolish enough to attempt to thwart the Dark Lord a third time! But this was Lily...as stubborn and relentless as he was. And she was married to Potter.

His heart froze. She was in certain mortal danger. And he was at fault.

"Severus, dear, are you all right? You look ill!"

Narcissa's voice penetrated through his panic, and he raised his head abruptly to see both Malfoys staring at him: Narcissa with curiosity and Malfoy with suspicion.

"My apologies, Narcissa. I just recalled that I left something out in my laboratory that isn't properly stored," he lied.

"It's not like you to be careless with anything in your laboratory," drawled Malfoy. "But you do look concerned about... something."

"Well, there's nothing to be done about it now, Severus," Narcissa reprimanded lightly. "The soup is divine. Don't let it get cold!"

"You're right, of course," Severus said with a weak smile. "Nothing to be done about it at all."

~*~ September 1980 ~*~

Peter

It was late afternoon at Phoenix Farm, and the heat of the day was oppressive. The air hung in a thick, damp mass, coating everything and everyone with its heavy moisture. Even Cooling Charms or the shade of the oak trees provided little relief.

Peter sat at one end of the large farmhouse kitchen table reviewing the inventory of food stores, pouring himself glass after glass of chilled pumpkin juice. Nothing, however, seemed to staunch the flow of sweat pouring off his brow. Emmeline Vance and Sturgis Podmore sat at the other end of the table, having just returned from a meeting with Albus Dumbledore.

"I know a few of the kids that Albus mentioned," said Emmy. "I'll set them up for meetings to gauge their interest in joining us."

Sturgis sighed. "Even if we get them all, it's not going to be enough, Emmy. With Lily and Alice out of commission for a while, and so many of us...gone... we're losing ground." He ran his hand through his hair, making it stand on end. "I don't know how Albus can remain so positive."

Emmy reached out to smooth his hair back down with an affectionate smile. "I think he's chuffed about the new babies." Her elbows on the table, she plopped her head onto her hands. "Two of them in as many days! I can't wait to see them," she said dreamily, looking down the table.

Eyeing the pitcher near Peter, she pulled out her wand. "Accio pumpkin juice!" She poured a glass each for herself and Sturgis. "Hey, Peter!"

Peter jumped and squealed, "WHAT?"

Emmy laughed, and Peter frowned. "Sorry to startle you, Peter. I just wanted to ask if it's true that the baby looks just like James?" Her smile fell suddenly. "It's so sad about James' parents, to lose both of them so close together."

Sturgis nodded. "It's not uncommon among very old wizarding couples. When one dies, the partner often dies shortly after."

"At least they got to see their grandson before they died." She sighed and then turned back to Peter. "How was the christening? Is it true that Sirius is Harry's godfather?"

Peter felt a hardening in his throat, as if something large was stuck there. "No, I couldn't make it to the christening. I haven't seen the baby yet, and yes, Sirius is the boy's godfather."

"You don't look very happy about it," noted Sturgis. "In fact, you've been right out of sorts for ages now, Peter. Is everything all right?"

Peter stood up and slammed his fist on the table, sending the glass by his hand hurtling to the floor where it shattered, the juice soaking into the wooden treads. "I'm just fine!" he yelled. "Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

"Peter!" shouted Emmy, who stood up as well. "We're just concerned about you. You've no cause to be angry with us!"

Peter closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. He was so tightly strung that he couldn't seem to stop himself from snapping. "I'm sorry, Emmy. It's just that I've been under a lot of strain at work on top of... everything," he said with a gesture that indicated the Farm and the Order. "I'm going outside for a bit. It's too hot in here." He turned and stormed through the kitchen door.

*********

Peter walked quickly towards the copse of trees that surrounded the Farm, pushed forward by the sudden urge to find a quiet, shaded place to hide from everyone. By the time he realised he was in the midst of the densely packed forest, he was breathing heavily. Dropping to the ground, he pulled out his already soaked handkerchief in a futile attempt to mop his balding head.

The truth was that he hadn't been invited to the christening. He'd found out afterwards, when James apologetically explained that they'd decided to keep things quiet and small. Only Sirius, Dumbledore, and Lily's parents had been there. Peter could tell that James felt bad about not inviting him. And James was so upset about his parents at the time that Peter didn't have the heart to remain angry with him. But it was the fact that Sirius had been asked to be the baby's godfather. That had stuck in his craw like a Billywig sting, and it hurt. As he considered how this could have come about, it suddenly came to Peter that it was probably all Sirius' doing. Sirius had probably insisted on being named Harry's godfather and put James and Lily on the spot. Most likely, being the decent sort, they couldn't refuse.

Then he thought about yesterday, and his stomach lurched into his throat. Yesterday he'd been summoned to his master and was given explicit orders to 'keep track of the Potters' movements'. He hadn't dared ask why, nor did he really want to know. What he did know was that his attempts to keep James...and now his son...safe were going to become more difficult. The two worlds Peter had worked so hard to keep apart were now drawing dangerously close together. Somewhere deep within himself, Peter could feel that something vital was beginning to tear, its edges fraying more and more ragged.

Then, from high above, a surprisingly cool breeze swirled down between the trees and gently kissed Peter's forehead. He breathed into it deeply, in a moment of blessed relief. No, he thought in a moment of clear resolution. I can't fail now. Not now. It was more important than ever that he pull himself together. To give nothing away. To protect all that was dear, regardless of the cost. He was a Gryffindor, he reminded himself. He could do this. He would.

~*~ June 1981 ~*~

Lily

She'd been so excited to escape from her restrictive confinement in yet another house that wasn't her own. Today, she'd have the luxury of time to herself; to go to Diagon Alley and then to work for a bit. Since Harry's birth, she and James had been forced to move frequently from one safe house to another. They rarely saw friends, and she'd had to curtail her work to oddly scattered days, such as today, to prevent their enemies from detecting a pattern in their movements. James was at home all the time, and as much as she loved him, she'd learned that, indeed, there could be too much of a good thing. Thankfully, Harry was a dream. The baby rarely fussed, and James adored everything about taking care of his son, even the messy bits.

The worst of it, Lily thought, was that Dumbledore would not reveal to them the reason they needed to go into 'deep hiding', as he called it. He'd only said that Voldemort had targeted the Potters, and it was both for their protection and the protection of the Order that they had to do so. It didn't even help that the Longbottoms had supposedly been targeted as well and were in similar straits; it was deemed too dangerous for the two families to be together. Even communications between them had been curtailed, for those could be easily tracked. But Lily would never be satisfied until she knew more. Voldemort had lots of enemies, and many of them could be targets, but they didn't need to be in hiding. This included most of the members of the Order! Finally, after repeatedly turning the situation over and over in her mind, the only link that made sense, the only thing that connected the Potters and the Longbottoms together in any unique way, was their children. Lily felt certain that it was something about Harry and Neville, not their parents, that had drawn Voldemort's 'special' attention. If only she could figure out why.

But as she stepped into Diagon Alley on this lovely, bright summer's day, with Sirius' two-way mirror tucked into her robes ("Just in case," as James had said), Lily's bubble of excitement on her day 'out' was shattered by the shock of what she saw. Usually bustling with shoppers and families strolling the Alley or eating outdoors at Florean Fortescue's, the street was nearly abandoned. Like a malevolent being, Fear itself had embraced the wizarding enclave, displacing the population as it coursed relentlessly down the streets and alleys, weaving through abandoned or destroyed shops. There had been multiple Death Eater attacks on Diagon Alley in the last several months, and assuming that more would follow, no one felt safe there. The few people Lily did encounter were skittering about furtively, their faces covered by hoods, eager to conclude their business and be gone as quickly as possible.

The wizarding world was in chaos. As part of Voldemort's efforts to enlist new recruits by force, the number of attacks on magical families had increased at a relentless pace, finally exceeding those on Muggles. The Ministry of Magic was holding its government together by only the most tenuous of threads, and then only due to the financial support of Gringotts, where the Goblins were as happy to wring profits from the beleaguered Ministry as they would from anyone else. But, despite this monetary aid, which helped to maintain the government's essential services...the Floo Network, the Law Enforcement Division and others...the basic economy of their world was in shambles. Terror of what lay outside their doors kept everyone at home, and because people stopped going to work, shortages were widespread. Since people only spent their Galleons when they had to, many businesses collapsed when their customers disappeared. In some cases, families were starving; others only survived on whatever food they could manage to grow themselves. Distrust and paranoia were rampant. Everyone and anyone might be an enemy. Worst of all were the terrible rumours that children...those who'd joined Voldemort's ranks...were attacking and killing their own parents. People whispered...for it was too terrifying to speak of it out loud...that afterwards, they would proudly cast the Dark Mark above their childhood homes.

While Lily had read about these horrors, she hadn't seen the living proof of them until today. Struggling between feeling bereft and furious at what Voldemort had wrought, Lily left Diagon Alley, grimly abandoning her plans to shop, and made her way to the Ministry of Magic and her Division. She had some personal research of her own to continue, and she was eager to return to it.

I may not be able to save the wizarding world, she thought with grim determination, but I can try to save those I love.

Severus

It was her.

A moment before, her hood had fallen away, and the sunlight reflected so brightly off her gleaming red hair that the air around her seemed to shimmer. She was standing next to a boarded-up shop, unmoving but for the turn of her head, taking in the devastation around her. He didn't reflect on the horror that crossed her face or the fact that he'd been part of the most recent raid that had worsened the devastation. All he could think about was a sudden, compelling urge.

Warn her.

He had no idea what he might say, but as she left Diagon Alley, he followed her, as if possessed. He was briefly frustrated that he couldn't use the Ministry of Magic's employee's entrance, but he knew where she worked. He'd find her there.

********

"Lily."

In an instant, her back was up against the corridor wall outside the Department of Mysteries and her wand was pointing at him.

"Who is it?" she hissed. "Reveal yourself or every Auror in the building will be on this floor in less than five seconds."

He stepped out of the crevice where he'd been waiting and removed the Disillusionment Charm.

"I need to tell you..."

She tilted her head as she tried to discern his form. But she clearly recognised his voice.

"Severus?"

Suddenly, he found his feet had forgotten how to move, and his tongue went numb. He'd known terror first hand at Voldemort's feet, but hearing her speak his name seemed to have rendered him paralysed and speechless.

She moved towards him, still cautious as she trained her wand on him. He managed to hold his hands up to show her he was unarmed.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in a hushed voice, knowing that hidden ears were everywhere.

The part of his brain that controlled movement and speech seemed to kick back into gear.

"I can't be seen speaking with you."

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why? What do you need to tell me?"

"You are in danger," he whispered. "Your...your son is in danger."

She closed the gap between them in a second and grabbed the front of his robes, pulling his face close to hers. Her eyes bore into his. Those eyes, searching and demanding, tore into him without mercy, grabbed that hardened wall around his heart, the one he'd constructed so long ago to shield him from the depth of his feelings for her, and shattered it into dust.

"How is Harry in danger? Tell me!" she demanded, her voice low and fierce.

He'd never felt as vulnerable as he did in this moment, her presence and her need and his feelings for her more potent than any Veritaserum he'd ever brewed. Only his well-honed instincts of self-preservation prevented him from telling her everything.

"I...I can only tell you to protect yourself and your son. The Dark Lord is watching and waiting."

"The...'Dark Lord'?"

He saw her piece the information together in her mind, and in the exact moment when the truth clicked into place, she stepped away from him as if he were contaminated.

"Oh, Severus. No."

The stricken look on her face sliced through him like a hex. He deftly turned his pain into anger.

"You can pass judgment on my choice of career later, Mrs. Potter," he growled, "but that doesn't change the fact that I'm risking my neck to give you this information."

She looked at him curiously and nodded. "What is Voldemort waiting for?"

He winced at the mention of his master's name, not seeing the moment when she stepped back towards him and took his hand into both of hers.

"Severus, you have to tell me! Please!" His attention was wholly riveted on the feel of her hands on his. They were softer than anything he'd felt in years. He could feel the pulse at her wrist. He noted that she bit her nails. Then he saw and felt the tears that fell upon them. He looked up to see her face, wet and fearful. He fought every urge that screamed to embrace her, to kiss the tears away. He was terrified. He was furious.

He pulled himself out of her grasp roughly and stepped back away from her. "You and your foolish husband have played the hero against the Dark Lord too many times! You've brought this on yourselves. Potter's need to seek attention will get you all killed. Just... stay out of sight." He turned to leave.

"Wait! Severus..."

"Forgive me," he muttered through clenched teeth. Then he Disillusioned himself once again and fled from her as fast as he could.

My endless thanks go to my wonderful betas, capella_black and songbook99.