Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Who am I supposed to talk to

If there's no you?"

James Fleamont Potter was dead.

Lily couldn’t see where she was—soot and ash clouding her eyes. Someone was crying. She couldn’t think. Her heart pounded against her chest, the only reminder it hadn’t died with the man she loved.

James Potter was dead.

Fear stormed her mind, the only thing pushing down the despair consuming her body—taking over her veins, her lungs, her bones. Lily looked around desperately at her surroundings, fighting tears and pushing down the scream climbing up her throat. It was dark; the buildings and faint lights blurred together. Harry was squirming against her chest, crying as if he knew the fate of his father. Lily tightened her grip on her son as well as on her wand.

James was dead.

Lily ran. As fast and as far as she could, Lily Potter ran through streets and alleyways, determined to make herself and her son lost. She ran and ran until the streets started to look familiar. She’d only been to London a few times— not nearly enough to navigate the city at night—but that didn’t matter.

Lily Grace Potter was alive.

She needed to get off the streets, somewhere safe. She racked her brain for Remus and Sirius’s address. It was written down somewhere. She had insisted James—

No, she thought furiously. Not now.

Letting out a choked sob, Lily slowed to a stop. What do I do? What am I supposed to do? Tears flooded her vision and she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think.
James would know.

But James Potter wasn’t here; he was dead. Lily wasn’t.

Lily Potter was alive.

With no idea what to do, Lily rocked her son back and forth, desperately trying to get him to calm down.

“It’ll be okay, Harry,” she cried softly. “You’ll be okay.” She tried to believe it.

They had no food, no money—nothing but Lily’s wand and the clothes on their backs: James’s too-large denim jacket and their pajamas.

Pockets, Lily thought, praying her husband had left something, anything. She quickly shoved her hand into the left one, cursing when she found nothing but empty wrappers. Shifting Harry into her other arm, Lily checked the right.

Please, please, please. She pleaded to anything that could listen.

Her fingers closed around something cold and smooth. She withdrew it to reveal a black stone.

“You’ve got to be kidding, James,” she whispered furiously. “A fucking rock?”

Then she saw it—a small gold engraving. Some kind of rune Lily vaguely recognized from school. She started to run her fingers over the mark.
“What is this, James,” she whispered, examining the small rock. “And why do you have it?”

Bang.

Lily jumped, dropping the stone as a loud crash sounded behind her. She whipped around, wand raised, when a flash of light cut through the dark, surrounding Lily and her son.

When the spots in her vision finally receded, they were no longer in the alley. Panic coursed through Lily as she realized she had no idea where she was. It was a bedroom—dark and old and grand, larger than the Potters’ kitchen. The floors were littered with clothes, books, and parchment; dark wooden chests were open and toppled over. The wallpaper was dark green, peeling slightly, with nothing else decorating the walls. The large king-sized bed was neatly made, with random objects and quills littered across it, as if no one had slept there in months.

Lily raced to the small window the second she saw it, anxious to escape the unfamiliar room. Harry had quieted significantly, seemingly just as confused as his mother. Even as she tried to open the old window, she wouldn’t set him down. She refused to let him leave her arms until she knew they were safe.

She was desperately pulling at the window when the door flew open behind her.

“James—”

Whipping around towards the source with her wand raised, Lily was already saying the spell when she realized who the boy standing in front of her was.

Sirius—her heart jumped hopefully—except it wasn’t, not quite. His hair was cut shorter, his features sharper, and his frame much thinner than the last time Lily saw him. He looked more tired than ever, and his eyes—

Not Sirius.

The boy’s eyes were dark, devoid of any emotion, and he was shorter, though not by much. This wasn’t Sirius at all.
Lily was alive. She could not save her husband, but she could save her son. She’d never trust the man in front of her, but she had to trust James.

“Hi, Regulus.”

Chapter Text

You could hear a pin drop. For a moment, Lily and Regulus did not say a word, did not move a muscle. She could almost see the gears turning in his mind, analyzing the situation and coming to the inevitable conclusion.

“James is dead.” His voice was hollow, eyes dark and unreadable. 

Lily took a breath, lowering her wand but tightening her grip. “Voldemort. He came– he found us, and James, he–” her voice broke, stumbling as the events of the night started to sink in. 

“Stop,” Regulus commanded, voice cold as ice. Lily froze, and after a moment he spoke again. “How did he find you?”

Lily couldn’t stop the tears then. “Peter,” she croaked, voice hoarse, “he was our secret keeper, Sirius thought–” 

At the sound of his brother’s name, he flinched slightly, but Lily couldn’t stop.

“We thought it would be safe until– until it happened, and James he– he told me to run and gave me the jacket, and I was able to apparate but I had no idea where I was, and I knew he would be right behind us so I just ran–”

She could barely breathe, tears streaming down her cheeks, but she didn’t stop.

 “And I didn’t know what that–” she gestured to the rock– “would do. I’ve never even seen it! If I’d known I’d never even touch it, and the only reason I haven’t cursed you yet is because James had it, and I trust him and I am desperate but so help me god if you move a fucking finger I’ll kill you where you fucking stand.” 

Pulling Harry tighter against her chest, she raised her wand again, mind racing through every curse she knew. 

Regulus didn’t react– just glanced at the stone on the floor, laying amongst the clutter. He stood there in silence.

“I won’t kill you,” he said finally, tone flat. Lily did not lower her wand. “And Voldemort won’t find you here. Stay in this room. Put whatever wards and charms you want if it makes you feel better, but I won’t come in again until I get Sirius.” 

“I don’t trust you.”

Regulus did not glance back as he walked towards the door. “Don’t then. I’ll be back tomorrow, ask for Kreacher if you get hungry.”

The door swung shut after him, and Lily quickly cast a flurry of surveillance spells, scanning the room for danger. When she was as sure as she could be that it was safe, she began reinforcing the space—one protection charm after another, each cast with shaking hands and a pounding heart.

This is a bad idea.

Maybe if she was less desperate, she would have left right then. 

It’s not safe.

Maybe if her arms and feet didn’t ache from carrying herself and her son she would’ve grabbed the hideous old lamp on the bedside table and shattered the window into a million pieces, running off into the night.

I can’t trust him.

Maybe if she had any energy left she would’ve apparated to Remus or Mary or Petunia. Maybe she would have bought a train ticket and fled the country. But Lily was dead on her feet, with her one year old son, on the run from the most dangerous wizard in all of Britain, and she was completely alone. 

James trusted him, she tried to convince herself. You need to trust James.

Lily sank onto the bed, pushing aside clutter, and hugged her son, who even at such a young age looked so much like his father. Then, she started to cry.

- 

The second the door slammed shut Regulus couldn’t breath. He doubled over, bracing himself against the wall as his vision swam with stars and unshed tears.

Regulus, tell me what’s going on I don’t understand. 

He’d known this was coming. The Dark Lord had been after Harry for months, and no amount of bargaining or trickery could’ve saved James if he stood in Voldemort’s way. 

You don’t need to leave, we can figure this out together.

Coldness spread through his body, seeping into his bones. Memories of their last conversation flashed before him—the anger, the pleading, the tears. He could see it all. Feel it all.

Just let me help you.

He’d shut down after that fight. The days in Grimmauld Place had passed in silence, but he barely noticed. He had his purpose, and nothing else mattered. No thoughts for his traitor brother, his dead friends, or his– for James.

Regulus, please.

He felt it now, though—rage, white-hot and searing through the numbness that had ruled him for months.

James was dead. Despite all his efforts to protect him, despite the warnings, despite everything, the fucking bastard had gotten himself killed– and left his perfect fucking family on Regulus’s doorstep. James was dead.

The lamp down the hall flickered, then shattered. He barely noticed.

You’re going to get yourself killed. 

He almost laughed. You were right, he congratulated himself bitterly.

Straightening up, Regulus forced himself to move. Through the hall. Down the stairs. With each step, the ringing in his ears faded. He needed a plan. James Potter was dead.

So what are you going to fucking do about it? Barty’s voice jeered, ringing through his mind. Sit around like a little bitch? Wipe Evans’ tears and rock her fucking baby?

He needed Lily out of the way. She wasn’t his problem. 

Pretty heartless, even for you Reg, Evan mused. Poor girl has no where to go, y’know Grimmauld is the safest place for them. 

Sirius can take care of them, then. Regulus smirked slightly at the idea of bringing his older brother back to Grimmauld. He’d have to warn Kreacher. Grimacing, he remembered he’d also have to warn the elf about the muggleborn woman and her one year old sitting upstairs.

Running back crying to your big brother for help? Pathetic.

“Kreacher!” Regulus barked, ignoring Barty’s taunts.

The elf appeared instantly. “Yes, Master Regulus?”

“Lily and Harry Potter are upstairs. Assist her if she needs anything, help her. I’ll be back shortly.”

“Of course, Master Regulus.”

With a curt nod, Regulus threw on his cloak and apparated.

London was dark and deserted, save for a few university kids stumbling arm in arm down the street, drunkenly singing and yelling incoherently. Dark clouds loomed overhead, smothering the stars, and even the full moon was dim and pale. He could barely see, but Regulus didn’t mind. 

There are worse things than the dark, Reggie, Sirius' voice rang in his ear.

He scanned the street until he found the flat. The last time he’d seen Sirius had been a shouting match in his sixth year– but Regulus had kept tabs. He’d even come here once, three months ago, during a moment of weakness after he’d finally left Voldemort and set off on his own mission.

Taking a deep breath, he steadied his trembling hands and walked up to the door. There were wards, powerful ones, but nothing he couldn’t slip past, being a blood relative and holding no nefarious intentions.

He knocked once, then twice to no avail.

“Sirius, Lupin, open the damn door before I tear it down,” He barked after knocking a third time didn’t prove successful. Still, no response. 

Regulus huffed, rolling his eyes and cursing his brother’s inability to get up from bed. With a wave of his wand, the door flew open. 

The flat was small– kitchen and living room combined, clutter everywhere. Empty glasses, loose papers, records spilling off a shelf. Exactly what he’d expect from the pair. Sirius had never been known for his cleanliness. He followed a narrow hall to the bedroom, knocking once before barging in. The room was a wreck—clothes, books, and an unmade bed. Empty.

“Fuck,” Regulus muttered, cursing his brother and Lupin and whatever the fuck they were doing at two in the morning.

Evan laughed. Could’ve been worse, you could’ve seen Loony giving it to your brother.

“Fuck you.”

Watcha going to do now Reg? Barty’s voice howled with glee. No big brother to come and save you.

“Shut the fuck up,” Reg gritted through his teeth, slamming the bedroom door behind him as he turned to leave. He didn’t need Sirius. He didn’t need anyone. Lily could manage on her own, and he had priorities of his own. Raising his wand, he prepared to apparate. 

Don’t be a dick, Regulus. What would James think?

Regulus froze. “Go away, Dorcas.”

She can help you. Suck it up and stop being spiteful, it’s not accomplishing shit.

Clenching his wand, Regulus released a deep breath. She was right, of course. Always was. He didn’t need help, but it would make the next steps a hell of a lot easier. His list was becoming far too long and endlessly more complicated. If Sirius could take care of a baby sized problem, he’d have to endure.

So, he picked up a book that most certainly was not his brother's, sat on the worn old couch, and waited.