TM -- If You Could Read My Mind...
If you could read my mind right now… Talk about a conversation when what you said was not what you were thinking.
The Fidelius Charm wrapped the dwelling in its protection, shielding its occupants from the threat that was sure to rise up. The village had been quiet since the family had gone into hiding, holding its breath as if that would better conceal them. The Potter family’s secret was safe though; they promised that much to the Headmaster and he watched them sadly, as if he knew something that they did not.
That was often the case with Albus Dumbledore, Lily had found.
The days of hiding had not fazed Lily… James was his usual chipper self, spinning his wife around the kitchen in graceless waltzes and blowing kisses at their infant son in his highchair…Lily savored the time with her boys, such a rare thing when they were so often called away. She read out loud to them from Tales of Beedle the Bard, safe in her husband’s arms, Harry safe in hers.
But the nights…
The nights unleashed their demons and the Lioness could feel herself drowning in despair. Something had not felt right since Dumbledore had told them of the prophecy he had heard, of the warning that he had been given. Her little family was in danger and Lily’s heart bled with guilt when she lingered on darker thoughts, thoughts of death and dying.
“All right there, Lils?”
Lily was startled from her gloomy thoughts (were that she could summon her silver doe to chase away thoughts as easily as it chased away Dementors…) by her husband’s deep voice and the feel of his stubble on her bare shoulder as he nuzzled her neck.
“Of course.” She lied, laughing at the tickling sensation, moving a hand into James’ unruly hair.
He wasn’t laughing though. The redhead was surprised to see no trace of a smile across the face that usually shone with mirth. “All right there?” she echoed back to him, her voice a comforting croon.
“No.”
She felt her mood dampen further and she propped herself up on her elbow to study James, lips pursed. “What’s wrong, Love?”
Lily was disappointed that he had spoken. James was always all right. It was in his nature, the laughter in his eyes was as natural as breathing and she was terrified to see it gone in those moments. She would have to be the strong one, she would have to fend off her fears and worries so that she could soothe his. She would have to be the protector instead of the protected.
“Do you think it’s real?”
“Hm?”
“The prophecy.”
She considered before she nodded. “Albus believes that it is.”
James moved to wrap strands of red around his fingers. “How do we know it means us, anyways?”
“He had a tip, didn’t he?” the woman shifted closer to him, a comforting presence. “And anyways, it’s better safe than sorry, isn’t it?”
“Are you afraid?”
Of course she was afraid. How could she be anything but afraid? Their son was being hunted; they were all in danger because some Death Eater had been listening at doors. Harry was only a year old, and yet he was in more danger than his battle-hardened parents had seen in their time in this war.
“No.” Lily said, a well practiced lie, she was a Gryffindor after all. She couldn’t be afraid. “Wormtail won’t let us down.”
Assured, James closed his eyes. His wife stroked his temple and hummed until he fell asleep. A long while past and she crept from the bed to the nursery where Harry was tucked away into his crib.
She trailed a finger down his pale, smooth cheek. He was so innocent, so at peace. He would wake in the morning and he would play, flying on that toy broomstick his godfather had bought him and laughing, completely unaware of the danger. Harry shifted some under her touch and she couldn’t help but cry.
For neither can live while the other survives…
The sob woke the infant and he whimpered, opening his brilliant green eyes and his arms thrashing, reaching for his mother. She took him and she held him to her, protectively.
“You will survive.” Lily whispered, urgently, voice trembling.
She was afraid, no matter what words she gave her husband. She was afraid as she gripped her son, crying.
She was a Gryffindor. She wasn’t allowed to be afraid. …But Harry wouldn’t give away her secret.
Muse: Lily Potter
Fandom: Harry Potter
Word Count: 705
The Fidelius Charm wrapped the dwelling in its protection, shielding its occupants from the threat that was sure to rise up. The village had been quiet since the family had gone into hiding, holding its breath as if that would better conceal them. The Potter family’s secret was safe though; they promised that much to the Headmaster and he watched them sadly, as if he knew something that they did not.
That was often the case with Albus Dumbledore, Lily had found.
The days of hiding had not fazed Lily… James was his usual chipper self, spinning his wife around the kitchen in graceless waltzes and blowing kisses at their infant son in his highchair…Lily savored the time with her boys, such a rare thing when they were so often called away. She read out loud to them from Tales of Beedle the Bard, safe in her husband’s arms, Harry safe in hers.
But the nights…
The nights unleashed their demons and the Lioness could feel herself drowning in despair. Something had not felt right since Dumbledore had told them of the prophecy he had heard, of the warning that he had been given. Her little family was in danger and Lily’s heart bled with guilt when she lingered on darker thoughts, thoughts of death and dying.
“All right there, Lils?”
Lily was startled from her gloomy thoughts (were that she could summon her silver doe to chase away thoughts as easily as it chased away Dementors…) by her husband’s deep voice and the feel of his stubble on her bare shoulder as he nuzzled her neck.
“Of course.” She lied, laughing at the tickling sensation, moving a hand into James’ unruly hair.
He wasn’t laughing though. The redhead was surprised to see no trace of a smile across the face that usually shone with mirth. “All right there?” she echoed back to him, her voice a comforting croon.
“No.”
She felt her mood dampen further and she propped herself up on her elbow to study James, lips pursed. “What’s wrong, Love?”
Lily was disappointed that he had spoken. James was always all right. It was in his nature, the laughter in his eyes was as natural as breathing and she was terrified to see it gone in those moments. She would have to be the strong one, she would have to fend off her fears and worries so that she could soothe his. She would have to be the protector instead of the protected.
“Do you think it’s real?”
“Hm?”
“The prophecy.”
She considered before she nodded. “Albus believes that it is.”
James moved to wrap strands of red around his fingers. “How do we know it means us, anyways?”
“He had a tip, didn’t he?” the woman shifted closer to him, a comforting presence. “And anyways, it’s better safe than sorry, isn’t it?”
“Are you afraid?”
Of course she was afraid. How could she be anything but afraid? Their son was being hunted; they were all in danger because some Death Eater had been listening at doors. Harry was only a year old, and yet he was in more danger than his battle-hardened parents had seen in their time in this war.
“No.” Lily said, a well practiced lie, she was a Gryffindor after all. She couldn’t be afraid. “Wormtail won’t let us down.”
Assured, James closed his eyes. His wife stroked his temple and hummed until he fell asleep. A long while past and she crept from the bed to the nursery where Harry was tucked away into his crib.
She trailed a finger down his pale, smooth cheek. He was so innocent, so at peace. He would wake in the morning and he would play, flying on that toy broomstick his godfather had bought him and laughing, completely unaware of the danger. Harry shifted some under her touch and she couldn’t help but cry.
For neither can live while the other survives…
The sob woke the infant and he whimpered, opening his brilliant green eyes and his arms thrashing, reaching for his mother. She took him and she held him to her, protectively.
“You will survive.” Lily whispered, urgently, voice trembling.
She was afraid, no matter what words she gave her husband. She was afraid as she gripped her son, crying.
She was a Gryffindor. She wasn’t allowed to be afraid. …But Harry wouldn’t give away her secret.
Muse: Lily Potter
Fandom: Harry Potter
Word Count: 705