shiiki
in
shiikifics
FIC: Entwined (Lily, Narcissa, Gen)
Title: Entwined
Author: shiiki
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Lily/James, Lucius/Narcissa, but mostly gen
Fandom: Harry Potter
Word Count: 7,164
Summary: Two mothers, two sons, two prophecies.
Notes: This was written for kelleypen in the 2009/2010 hp_canon_fest. Much thanks to my beta, katieay!
Link to fic at hp_canon_fest
i. the pensieve
November 1, 1979
Lily wasn't even two minutes in the Ministry before she wished she could have stayed home. Her head was still throbbing from the aftermath of yesterday's Hallowe'en party, and the nausea she'd felt during breakfast hadn't helped. James (who had been way too perky for someone who had seemed even more pissed than she had been last night) had suggested she take the day off, but Lily knew it wasn't going to be possible.
Her boss was cold enough towards her as it was; Lily suspected Rookwood had contested her appointment to the department when Tiberius Ogden had offered her the position and was just waiting for an opportunity to sack her. She wasn't going to earn any brownie points with him by Floo-ing in sick thanks to a hangover.
Not that her prompt appearance at the Department of Mysteries seemed to do her any favours. Rookwood barely glanced at her when she greeted him.
'Get on with your work,' he growled distractedly, scowling as he so often was whenever she approached him.
'Grouchy git,' Lily muttered under her breath as she hurried away to the Room of Time, where she was currently posted.
It was a narrow, elongated room illuminated by a sparkling light from a large bell jar at the far end, the purpose of which was to examine the circular nature of time. Tables were lined up along the walls, on which hung a large variety of clocks, whose pleasant, ticking noise gave the room a perpetual rhythmic hum. Lily made for one of the tables with rounded edges, leaving the door slightly ajar for her colleague, Dorcas Meadowes, to enter later.
At the moment, Lily's work centred around an unusual artefact that had recently surfaced in one of the periodic departmental clean-ups. It appeared to be a Pensieve, large and bowl-shaped with intricate carvings on its surface and containing a shallow pool of a wispy substance, neither air nor liquid, that would not spill even when tipped over. However, preliminary investigations had determined that the substance within were not memories -- at least, not conventional ones. The entire artefact did not function the way a Pensieve would. Attempts to use it to collect and view new memories had not been successful. It was, quite simply, a mystery.
Lily's job was to try and solve it.
Not everything that came into the Department of Mysteries was understandable, of course. That was the first thing Lily had learned when she'd done her apprenticeship year here. Sometimes the learned and open-minded witch or wizard would manage to unveil the unknown; more commonly, however, mysteries that arrived remained just so.
This Pensieve-ish artefact might fall into the latter category ... or it might turn out to be something extraordinary. Lily had studied the carvings around it and identified some of them as runes dating back a thousand years. It had taken a while to decipher them, but Lily was now reasonably sure they read:
To preserve the secrets through time.
If this was indeed a Pensieve once used by the Druids, perhaps they had some special method of extracting their memories. Perhaps that silky pool inside was a memory preserved in time all this while, bearing information of old magic long-forgotten.
There might even be something that would be of use in fighting the damnable war against Voldemort right now.
With that last thought, Lily pushed her hair behind her ears and rolled up the sleeves of her robes, willing herself to work past her headache. Holding her wand steady, she directed it towards the basin.
'All right,' she muttered to herself. 'Fluos maxima.'
It was a spell she and Dorcas had worked on the previous week. They hoped that altering the physical state of the substance in the basin might allow it to be collected. At first there did not seem to be any effect, but then slowly, a thin mist began to rise from the bowl.
'Strange,' murmured Lily. She'd intended the end result to be liquid, rather than gas. She considered the mist, which was a very pale pink, for a while, then reached for a vial and cautiously swished her wand towards the opening.
The pink mist hovered over the basin. It seemed to ooze a sense of complacency, as if to say, 'I'm not budging an inch.'
Within the mist, something moved. Lily came a little closer to it to try and make out what it was. The profile of a face, a little distorted ... pale, thin ... a woman, she thought.
Lily drew back suddenly, realising that she was not seeing someone inside the mist, but through it.
'Dorcas?' she said, craning her head to the side to see the gap in the door clearer.
There was no answer, not from Dorcas or any of her other colleagues, but the person watching through the gap in the door jerked and pushed it open wider. Lily caught sight of a thin, pointed face with an upturned nose, framed by blonde curls, before the woman disappeared quickly from the door.
'Finite,' said Lily sharply, ending the spell. The mist sank docilely back into the basin. Lily then marched around the basin towards the door and flung it open.
It had been a while since she'd seen that particular face, but she was fairly sure she recognised it. If she was correct, that face -- and its owner -- had no business in the Department of Mysteries.
Unbeknownst to her, while she went to confront the trespasser, the pink mist rose from the basin again, flushed a deeper shade, and started to creep away from it ...
Lily flung the door wide open and held her wand at the intruder, whose back was now to her. 'What do you think you're doing here?' she said sternly. 'You're not authorised. Leave now.'
The witch turned around, showing herself to be, indeed, Narcissa Malfoy. She drew herself up haughtily and stared down her nose at Lily. It was a stare that Lily recalled from her earlier days at Hogwarts: the sneering look of a pure-blood witch who believed Lily to be worth less than the mud on the heel of her sole.
For a moment both of them stared defiantly at each other. Then a feeling of breathlessness swept over Lily -- she gasped and nearly stumbled -- followed by the sensation of falling through the air. She looked down, startled, to see a faint pink mist curling around her ankles, deepening in colour until it became a deep red.
She looked up again into Narcissa; she appeared quite as shocked as Lily. Without warning, the world around them dissolved into blackness. Through it they fell, the air whooshing upwards.
They landed without the jarring sensation of touching ground, yet it was more disconcerting than falling out of the sky might be. The world seemed to just appear out of nowhere around them, grassy earth materialising beneath their feet with no impact whatsoever. Lily glanced around shakily.
She was in the middle of a stone circle, beside a large pile of leaves and branches that seemed to have been built up on purpose. There were people surrounding her, drawing closer. Although the only light came from the moon and stars shining down on them, Lily could make out their strange attire: they were garbed in a fringed sort of cloth, cinched at the waist with criss-crossing belts. All of them seemed to be staring at her and Narcissa, looking slightly awestruck.
'Where the hell are we?' Narcissa hissed frantically. She had her hands both pressed against her stomach, as though she'd been punched in the gut.
'I -- I'm not sure. It's --' Lily cast a worried look at the people around her. 'A memory?' she said uncertainly. Though these people seemed to notice them, and all the memories she'd worked with before had always rendered her an invisible observer. Then again, if she was in the Pensieve ... well, she already knew it wasn't a normal Pensieve.
Narcissa let out a mirthless laugh, as though to imply that Lily knew nothing of what she spoke.
'Not a normal memory,' Lily hissed. She looked at the approaching wizards. 'We come in peace,' she said, pocketing her wand and holding up her hands, hoping to indicate that she meant no harm.
One of the wizards stepped out of the circle surrounding them and bowed to her. He was tall and grey-bearded, and leaned on a staff as though relying on it for balance. The wizard came up to them and raised his left hand towards Lily's face. Uncertain, she drew back, but he only touched a lock of her hair.
The wizard spoke then, but it was in a language Lily could not understand. The tone, however, sounded amazed. He turned to Narcissa and reached out to touch her as well; Narcissa recoiled. The wizard paused dropped his hand, and turned away from them. He spoke once more, addressing the circle of people surrounding them. At the end of his speech he raised both his hands, including the staff in his right hand.
As he did so, a flare burst out in the distance, sending flickering light dancing across the starry night sky. As though it was a signal the others in the circle had been waiting for, they began to move counter-clockwise around Lily, Narcissa, and the wizard in the centre. He raised his hands over the huge pile next to them and without warning, flames leapt from the kindling, flaring up into the dark.
In unison, everyone except Lily and Narcissa began to chant. Although Lily could not decipher any of these words either, the context of the situation started to become clear to her. This was obviously a ritual, and very likely from a place -- or more likely, time -- where a different language was spoken. And something else clicked in her mind: it was Samhain today -- All Hallows Day, which although was mostly forgotten in their own time, had been believed in ancient times to be the most magically sensitive time of the year. The Pensieve must have been some sort of portal between times, activated thanks to the fluidity of time on this very day. It had landed them here, in a time where Samhain rituals were still a part and parcel of life.
And among the wizards and witches of this time ... the druids.
The chanting grew louder and louder, and Lily was sure several phrases were being repeated now, even if she didn't know what they meant. The flames from the bonfire seemed to leap higher with every word, its heat scorching and making Lily's eyes water. At the height of the crescendo of voices, a witch stepped forward out of the circle, moving dreamily towards the centre as though sleepwalking. Her face was covered in a strange paste-like substance that glowed orange in the firelight.
Watching her, neither Lily nor Narcissa noticed the first wizard thump his staff against the ground again until they heard the dull thud. It was unquestionably a spell, as Lily found her feet rooted to the ground, her entire body frozen as though by Petrificus Totalus. Immobile, she could not prevent the witch from approaching and smearing some of the paste from her cheek onto Lily's, then Narcissa's. It was sticky but oddly cool against her skin. The witch then closed her eyes and held her hands out to the heavens.
It was a shock when words issued from the witch's mouth, words in English, delivered in a harsh tone with a tinny quality to the words, as though being drawn through the witch from someplace far away.
'Child to be born
With destinies entwined
The fate of one
To be tied to the other.'
She touched one hand to Lily's stomach, the other to Narcissa's. Lily felt a flutter, as though of butterflies, rise inside her.
'Destined for greatness
Destined to serve
The child carried within
Tribulations to face.'
It seemed like a prophecy, Lily thought, a prophecy made about the children she and Narcissa were carrying. How could it be, though? She wasn't pregnant.
'Mothers both now
Protections to wield
With the greatest sacrifice
Mother's love will save all.'
A ringing silence followed this pronouncement, broken only by the crackle of flame. Then whispers began to travel around the circle of people like a rustling wind. The wizard with the staff said an unknown word loudly, and it died away.
The prophesying witch seemed to awaken from a trance. Her eyes drew slowly open and she withdrew her hands from Lily and Narcissa. From a fold inside the flowing tunic she wore, she revealed a curved silver dagger. Its sharp point gleamed in the firelight.
At the sight of it, Lily's confusion was swept away, to be replaced by a cold, seeping horror. There was a dagger like that in the Department of Mysteries; she had seen it during her apprenticeship, studied by those in the division for Death.
A ceremonial dagger, believed to be used in sacrificial rituals.
The witch drew nearer, raising the dagger in her hands. Lily strained desperately against the Body-Bind, willing it to break. She thought the counter-curse furiously, felt a sudden burst of power, and suddenly her limbs were free. The advancing witch was thrown backwards before Lily could properly draw her wand and cast Protego, which was on the tip of her tongue.
Time appeared to stand still. The witch did not rise. None of the other druids were moving. Lily glanced at Narcissa, wondering if she had managed to hex them all, but Narcissa looked as stunned as she did and her wand was only half-raised.
Whatever it was, it was affecting more than just the druids. The moon and stars above seemed to be fading into the night sky, as though being snuffed out. Grey fog started to surround them, making the druids harder to see as it thickened.
And then a great, bellowing voice boomed out, startling Narcissa into a scream.
'Lily! Lily! Lily!'
James? What would he be doing here?
A female voice, then, calmer and stronger: 'Lily, do you hear us?'
A wave of relief swept of Lily. 'Yes! Dorcas, is that you?'
'I hear something,' said Dorcas, still sounding as though she was under a Sonorus Charm. 'I'll send this along, I think it's stable enough ...'
'Just get her out of there,' boomed James.
The air around them seemed to vibrate. In the sky -- or where the sky should have been; there was nothing but black all around now, such that Lily could barely see her own body -- a pinprick of light appeared and started to move downwards towards them. As it came closer, Lily realised it was elongated, a long, thin, shining rope snaking down from out of the sky. Dorcas had sent her a way out!
When it was dangling above their heads illuminating both their faces, she reached up and grabbed it. There was a sharp jerk beneath her navel, like the hook of a Portkey, and the next moment, she landed hard on the stone floor of the Department of Mysteries. James's strong arms were around her in a flash.
'Merlin's balls, Lily, I thought you'd got yourself trapped!'
'I'm fine,' she said briskly, brushing herself off when he let her go. She turned her attention to the Pensieve, which appeared to have spat her out back in the Room of Time again. The Pensieve was vibrating and emitting a strange humming noise.
'I think it's destabilising,' said Dorcas. The shining rope was retracting back into her wand.
'You need to send the rope in again, then. Narcissa Malfoy is still inside there!'
'What?'
'Hurry, Dorcas!'
Dorcas wasted no more time. She sent her rope back down into the Pensieve, which shuddered harder than ever, as though the insubstantial-looking rope was going to split it into pieces.
'Narcissa!' Lily called, hoping she could hear. 'Narcissa, you have to grab it. Grab the rope, it'll get you out of the Pensieve, go on.'
There was a bright flash of light, a dark shape came flying out of the Pensieve, and then it shattered into a million pieces, seconds after Narcissa Malfoy had emerged from it. Lily's hands flew up instinctively to shield her face from the flying pieces, but no broken shards stung her skin.
'Damn!' said Dorcas. 'That's the end of that, then.'
'Seriously, what were you thinking, jumping into something like that?' said James almost at the same time. Lily glared at him.
'James, this is my job. I --'
'Indeed it is, Mrs Potter, and I do hope you are not about to breach your contract employment any further with careless words. ' Lily jumped as the low voice of Rookwood announced his arrival. Rookwood surveyed the scene before him with an impassive gaze: Lily, Dorcas, their work splintered in shards across the floor, and James and Narcissa -- two outsiders who were strictly forbidden to enter the department without permission.
'Mr Rookwood, I can --'
'Explain, no doubt, and I certainly expect a full report by the end of the day. Until I have had a chance to consider it, however, you are suspended.'
Lily felt her jaw fall open. A protest bubbled up inside her -- it's not fair, I was doing my job, that woman just wandered in -- but the words were trapped, tripping over themselves as they rose in her throat.
It was James who spoke first on her behalf. 'On what grounds?' he said angrily.
Rookwood's eyes narrowed at James. 'I am not at liberty to discuss the terms of service of the Department of Mysteries with an outsider. Especially one who is trespassing on secure Ministry grounds.'
'You can't suspend her without hearing her side first, that's violating her rights as an employee!'
'James, it's okay,' Lily said quickly, realising that he was building up steam for a fight, which would not help matters much. She would have to talk to Rookwood, and Dorcas would back her up, surely, but none of it could be done with James and Narcissa in attendance.
'No, it bloody well is not! Are you just going to stand there and take this?' His voice rose in volume with every word.
'You're not helping,' Lily said, trying to sound calm even as she felt Rookwood's hard eyes bore into her head.
'Someone needs to stick up for you if you won't do it for yourself!'
'James, this is not the time nor place! Leave!'
James gaped at her for a second. 'Fine,' he said at last. He opened his mouth to say something else, appeared to think the better of it, and simply said, 'fine,' again before turning on his heel and marching out the door. His voice echoed back from the dark hallway outside.
'How the hell do I get out?'
Rookwood snorted disdainfully. Finally turning away from Lily, he looked at Narcissa, who had got demurely to her feet.
'Mrs Malfoy,' he said, and though his voice was still calm, it was less cool. 'Your husband is waiting in the corridor outside the courtrooms. He was extremely worried when I saw him -- concerned, I believe, about your whereabouts. Now, I do not know how or why you have entered the Department of Mysteries, but I will reserve judgement until I have heard the full details from my employees.'
'Thank you, Mr Rookwood,' said Narcissa prettily. She and Rookwood exchanged a look of understanding, and Lily wondered suddenly if this entire incident had been staged by Rookwood himself. But no, he couldn't have planned that bit with the Pensieve ...
'Miss Meadowes, you will please escort Mrs Malfoy and --' his nose wrinkled distastefully '-- Mr Potter out of the department, after which you will report to my office for an inquiry.'
Dorcas shot Lily a half-sympathetic, half-worried glance before turning to Narcissa and saying, 'This way, please, Mrs Malfoy.'
Once they had gone, Lily tried to launch into her explanation. 'Sir, I --'
'You would be better served in clearing up this mess and attending to your report of the incident, Mrs Potter.'
'But, Mr Rookwood --'
'Did I not make myself quite clear?' His pockmarked face screwed up ferociously at her. Lily opened her mouth, closed it again, pursing her lips together hard, and began to direct the shards of the broken Pensieve into a pile. If she could only chuck the lot in Rookwood's face ... not that it could possibly look any worse.
She didn't see Rookwood for the rest of the day, which she spent compiling her report on the events in and out of the Pensieve. Dorcas returned from Rookwood's office around lunchtime and reassured Lily.
'I told him you had nothing to do with James being in here -- that was my fault entirely, I lost my head a little when I realised you'd disappeared into the thing -- and couldn't possibly be held accountable for Narcissa Malfoy. I mean, it's entirely illogical! He can't hold that against you either.'
'Bet he can,' muttered Lily, dotting a period on a sentence with much more force than was necessary. 'You know he's always hated me.'
'Lily, I'll do what I can --'
'No,' said Lily sharply. 'Don't you get yourself in trouble with him either. If both of us lose our jobs, where will that put the Order? He is right about one thing, even though he has the circumstances wrong. I haven't exactly been exemplary with the code of secrecy.'
They exchanged long, measured looks.
'All right,' said Dorcas at last. 'You'll handle this. Are you going to tell me what happened in that Pensieve, though?'
'I'll reproduce my report. I don't really know what any of it means, but I can't shake the feeling that it is somehow connected to this war. There was a prophecy ...' And she told Dorcas about the druids and their ritual, and the strange connection they had drawn between herself and Narcissa Malfoy.
'What do you mean, your child?' asked Dorcas shrewdly when Lily finished her tale. 'Are you ...'
'I don't know,' whispered Lily. 'It could be referring to a child James and I are meant to have in the future, or ...' She glanced down at her own stomach, its flatness belying any possibility of something, a baby, growing within. Was she just imagining the stirring of something inside her?
Dorcas took her hands. 'I reckon you'll need to find out, then.' She frowned then. 'And if you are ... well, I think you should leave it out of the report. I don't have a good feeling about that prophecy thing.'
+++
James was still in a towering temper when Lily arrived home, much later than usual due to the detour she had taken on the way. Normally when James's sense of righteous indignation got ruffled, Lily would ignore him until he had settled down enough to discuss things reasonably. Today, however ... she needed to speak to him.
'James, I'd appreciate if you'd calm down. I need to tell you something.'
'Oh, I'm perfectly calm,' he said, though the way he was wearing a path across the carpet contradicted every word.
'When I was in the Pensieve,' she forged on ahead, 'I stumbled into some prophetic ritual and the druids said that I was going to have a child. Well, you can imagine what a surprise that was, so after I finished the report for Rookwood --'
James snorted loudly. 'Of course, you did up a report nice and obedient for Rookwood. Right after he practically sacked you without reason after you nearly got stuck in that thing that's your work -- but then you don't want to hear this, do you? Oh no, you hate it when I try and stand up for ... wait, what do you mean, a child?'
To her horror, Lily felt thick tears welling up, obscuring her vision. 'I mean a baby, you prat!' Her voice sounded thick as well. 'A baby.'
James opened his mouth, but no words came out. He mouthed soundlessly at her for a moment before realising he looked like an idiot and shutting it.
'That's right,' said Lily, once she'd got control of her voice again. She felt as though she was dangerous close to hysteria. 'I went to a clinic after work.'
'You went to a what?'
Lily started to laugh and cry at the same time. Of all the shocking news she was delivering, James had managed to find his voice to ask about the simpler Muggle equivalent of St Mungo's. It was both endearing and completely maddening.
'We are going to have a baby,' she said shakily. 'We are.'
The next thing she knew, James had grabbed her in a bone-crushing hug that knocked the air out of her in one gasping breath.
'Un-bloody-believable!'
And then he had released her slightly but his lips were against hers and soon there wasn't much room for talk.
They did settle down to discussion eventually, though, lying in bed that night, eyes open in the dark.
'It shouldn't be good news, not really. Not now, not with everything we're involved in.'
'It's done, though. We can't ...'
'We could ...'
The silence that followed that unspoken proposition weighed heavily on both of them. Together, they both said, 'No.'
'How will we manage, then?'
'We'll manage.' James sounded so certain, Lily couldn't help but trust him.
'We'll manage,' she echoed.
He fell asleep before she did. There was still the words of the druids that she hadn't told him and they weighed on her now.
Entwined ... sacrifice ... mother's love ...
Already she felt a strange swell in her chest at the thought of the little one growing inside her. A compulsion to protect it from anything in the world that might mean it harm.
And there would be people aplenty who would abhor a baby born of her and James's union. It was a mad world they lived in now, and the best protection, really, was to be hidden. She had just been suspended. Going back to fight her suspension was just asking to be noticed.
Protections to wield
With the greatest sacrifice
By the time the sun was beginning to form a faint pink line on the horizon, she had come to a decision. There would come a time soon that she would be thankful for this choice, but for now, there was only anxiety and a faint sense of loss.
---
ii. the prophecy
April, 1980
The dagger approached her, its sharp, silver point gleaming the colour of blood. It pointed at the red-haired Mudblood, whose fingers splayed protectively over her stomach.
'You will not touch him,' she said, and the next moment, the dagger pierced the Mudblood's breast. Blood spilled obscenely from her chest, drenching the ground where she stood, but her arms remained clutched around her distended belly. Narcissa opened her mouth to scream, but no sound would come.
'The fate of one to be tied to the other,' said a harsh voice, and the dagger now pointed at Narcissa's belly.
Noooo ...
Narcissa awoke, her forehead sticky with -- to her relief when she swiped at it -- sweat. She let her eyes fall shut again for several seconds before opening them.
She hadn't thought of her little misadventure in the Department of Mysteries for months. It had been easy to put out of her mind once she'd left. For one, there had been her father's trial, the reason Narcissa had been down in the chambers outside the courtrooms in the first place. His sentencing had coloured her world quite miserably. Mother had been devastated, and as she held Bella and her indiscrete activities quite responsible, it fell to Narcissa to comfort her. (Andromeda, was, of course, out of the question. Narcissa doubted her estranged sister even cared about the misfortune that had fallen the family of late.)
Rookwood had also not bothered her after she'd left the Ministry; Lucius had spoken to him and told her not to worry as he'd cleared things up.
'He's a proper wizard, Rookwood,' said Lucius. 'We talked at length about what a disgrace it is to have Mudbloods -- little more than Muggles themselves -- studying the deepest secrets of magic. Fortunately, that is no longer an issue.'
The Mudblood, Narcissa gathered, had resigned. At any rate, it was none of her concern. She cared nothing for her or the half-blood child she was carrying.
At that thought, Narcissa put one hand to her belly. With destinies entwined ... But what could her pure-blood son have to do with a half-blood whelp? The idea was absurd. Lucius would never allow ...
The fire in the hearth crackled as it burned suddenly green, interrupting her musings. A moment later, Lucius stepped through, brushing the soot off his robes.
'My dear,' he said, leaning over to kiss her cheek.
'You're home early,' she murmured. 'I wasn't expecting you until dinnertime.'
There was a tense quality to Lucius's smile. 'The Dark Lord was ... agitated,' he said. 'There has been a prophecy.'
Narcissa felt a cold chill run down her back. 'A ... prophecy? What kind of prophecy?' she breathed, unable to speak any louder with the cold, clenching fist that seemed to be gripping her throat.
'I did not hear it,' admitted Lucius. 'It was, apparently, delivered to Dumbledore. It spelled the Dark Lord's downfall.'
The icy grip on her insides relinquished its hold, just a bit. 'And he told you that?'
'The Dark Lord trusts me, Narcissa. You know that. He knows that we are loyal and he will reward us.' His voice, however, was slightly shaky, as though he was not quite convinced.
'What does he want us to do?' For Narcissa knew the Dark Lord's favour was never simple to achieve. There was something he wanted Lucius to do, for sure. Something that might spell doom for them, as it had spelled the end of her father's freedom when he had taken the fall for what Bella had done in the name of the Dark Lord. 'It's just a prophecy, isn't it? Those things aren't precise --'
'It's about a baby,' said Lucius. 'The threat to the Dark Lord is a baby -- all we have to do is find that baby and ... well, ensure it does not threaten our Lord.'
'Oh,' said Narcissa, her breath escaping her in a loud whoosh. She did not need Lucius to elaborate to know what he meant by ensuring that it did not threaten the Dark Lord. Her hands flew automatically to her swollen belly, her fingers splayed across it. Lucius couldn't possibly mean ...
'Born as the seventh month wanes,' said Lucius, as though quoting someone. 'Born as the seventh month wanes, he said.' He looked, as she did, at her belly. The baby, five months along now, due late in July, chose just that moment to give her a sound thump.
'There must be many more babies due at the end of July,' said Narcissa hesitantly. 'He -- it -- the prophecy can't mean our baby. It's not possible.'
Lucius nodded slowly. 'There was another condition as well,' he said. '"Born to parents who have thrice defied the Dark Lord." We have always been loyal. The Dark Lord -- the Dark Lord knows that.'
'Yes,' murmured Narcissa, but she understood Lucius's concern. Could it be any more ambiguously phrased? What did it mean, 'defied the Dark Lord'? How did one define defiance, especially to a wizard who often viewed even the unintended misdemeanours of his followers as defiance?
'It will not be us,' said Lucius, after a moment. 'There must be other parents expecting. Even in that damnable Order of Dumbledore's, if we can ascertain who they all are. Perhaps one of his pestilential Mudbloods.'
At these words, Narcissa looked sharply at Lucius. He did not seem to realise there was anything amiss, though, as he carried on.
'I believe a visit to St Mungo's should serve. I shall go straight away.'
Potter's Mudblood, thought Narcissa. She wasn't showing at all in November ... she could be due in July.
Yet she said nothing while Lucius bent down and kissed Narcissa on the forehead. 'Don't fret, my dear,' he said. She did not know why she continued to hold her silence even as he flung a pinch of Floo powder into the fireplace and set off for St Mungo's. She could have raised the matter, given him a direction in which to inquire ...
The fate of one to be tied to the other.
Alone again, Narcissa shivered despite the roaring fire in the hearth.
+++
Over the next week, the Dark Lord seemed obsessed with tracking down the baby of the prophecy. Lucius had submitted the names of no fewer than five possible candidates, although Narcissa thought some of them were pretty flimsy. The Macmillans, for example, whose due date was in April. A three-month delay was not altogether impossible, but extremely unlikely. The Dark Lord must have thought so, too, because judging from Lucius's increased terseness each night, he was displeased.
Still she did not mention the Mudblood. Narcissa could not quite understand herself why she did not submit the Potters' name for questioning. Perhaps it was that if the Mudblood's baby fulfilled on prophecy, it might fulfil another ... and Narcissa wanted her child to play no part in foretold destinies. Or perhaps it was also that she found the whole matter very distasteful. She did not see the point: all this work to hunt down a baby -- a child like her own, quite innocent and completely harmless. How could a baby hope to defeat the most powerful wizard of their time?
And if the prophecy did indeed point towards a baby growing up to challenge the Dark Lord, well, if he feared the powers of a new opponent, was he really worthy of their allegiance and admiration?
She did not share these thoughts with Lucius either. It would be suicidal -- the Dark Lord was a phenomenal Legilimens, she heard tell (Bella had often raved about the skills he had deigned to teach her), and she counted herself lucky that she hardly ever spent time in his company.
Then Lucius brought the news that the Dark Lord had requested to dine with them at Malfoy Manor one evening. Filled with dread, Narcissa ordered the house-elf to prepare the finest roasts, to spare no expense on the wine, and to burn his toes should he put one of them out of line during the dinner. House-elves, Aunt Elladora had always said, needed firm handling and clear punishments in order to produce results.
She dressed herself in the most elegant robes she could pull off at this stage of her pregnancy and received them at the door when Dobby announced their arrival. Lucius and the Dark Lord were prompt; the latter behaved rather graciously, though that didn't ease her discomfort.
'I have good news, my lord,' said Lucius over dinner. 'I have found the child you seek.'
'Indeed, Lucius? And who might the parents be? I can only hope they fit the definition of "thrice defied" better than the last pair you suggested. Or I might start to believe your lack of success to be an act of defiance in itself ...' The Dark Lord's cold, eerily red-tinted eyes swept over Narcissa, lingering on the curve of her distended belly. It took all of Narcissa's will to keep her composure and pour another glass of elf-made wine without trembling.
'The Longbottoms, my lord,' said Lucius.
'The Longbottoms,' repeated the Dark Lord, as though twirling the name around his tongue. 'Interesting ...'
'Yes,' continued Lucius quickly. 'Both Aurors, as you know. I was able to hunt down their midwife, who was most reluctant to give me any information. But I have my ways and she finally told me that Alice Longbottom is due in July. It fits perfectly, my lord.'
'So it does.' The Dark Lord did not seem particularly impressed by this information, however. 'I have heard that there has been another prophecy.'
'Another prophecy, my lord?'
'One made before this one, deep in the bowels of time. Fortunately, I have servants well placed to deliver such information from the Ministry as you cannot access, Lucius, and I have read the report of this prophecy. It also, curiously, refers to a child ... a strange coincidence, wouldn't you agree, Lucius?'
Unless, he seemed to say without enunciating the words, it is no coincidence at all. He cast another glance towards Narcissa, an inquiring look that made her blood run cold. She knew exactly what prophecy he was speaking of now.
I must speak, she thought, silencing the traitorous voice in her mind that repeated, yet again, the haunting words of the druid's prophecy to her once more. If the Dark Lord is suspicious of my child ... if it comes down to mine or hers ... if this is what is meant by 'destinies entwined' ...
'I know of another, my lord,' she said. 'A child who will be born this year, possibly in July -- a half-blood child born to James Potter and his Mudblood wife.'
Lucius's head snapped up, surprised, but Narcissa looked only at the Dark Lord, whose eyes bore into her own. 'This is the truth, I can see it,' he said slowly. 'But Rookwood did not mention another.'
'I was there. I heard the prophecy. Rookwood did not -- he will have only received secondary data, possibly from the Mudblood herself. Perhaps she concealed her pregnancy; it would be easy enough, it would not have shown then.'
'Yes ... yes. And you know and remember the prophecy. You will permit me to see for myself, then?'
Lucius let out his breath in a gasp. 'My lord, surely ...'
Under the table, Narcissa put her hand on his. She raised her chin a notch and continued to stare directly at the Dark Lord. 'I do,' she said quietly.
The Dark Lord's eyes glinted. From the folds of his robes he drew he wand and pointed it at her. Narcissa forced herself not to flinch as he said, 'Legilimens.'
It was over very quickly. The Dark Lord drew from her head with practised eased her memory of the druids, their exact words, and her unsettling thoughts about them. And then he withdrew, leaving her slouched back in her chair, breathing hard.
'I see,' he said. And then, 'you did not come to me with this information immediately.'
Narcissa bowed her head. 'I beg your pardon, my lord. I have given you what you need. Have mercy.'
'Lord Voldemort is merciful, very merciful,' he said. 'I see your fears for the child you carry; you need not fear if you plan to raise him to be loyal to the old magic, faithful to his blood, and a model to our cause.'
'We will,' said Lucius immediately.
'In that case, we shall say no more of your wife's indiscretion.' He waved his hand almost airily. 'The Longbottoms, you say, Lucius? And the Potters. Both sycophants of that Muggle-loving fool Dumbledore. Yes, I have no question that they fit the bill perfectly. I shall keep a close eye on them both.'
Narcissa let out the breath she had not realised she had been holding. It was done -- she had re-directed the Dark Lord's interest in her unborn child.
And if she had sent him after another mother's innocent child ... well, she had no doubt any mother would sacrifice whatever she could to save their own.
When Draco Malfoy was born prematurely two months later, it was with relief that Narcissa took her son into her arms. If she thought at all of Lily Potter, her twinge of guilt was brief and easily ignored.
+++
May, 1998
It was over. The Dark Lord had delivered the final blow, the killing curse that would end this battle and allow them to march into the school, Death Eaters victorious. Narcissa's heart thumped out a staccato beat inside her chest as she watched the Dark Lord rise from where he had stumbled. Several of the Death Eaters reached out to him in concern, including Bella, who rasped, 'My lord,' in a solicitous tone. Narcissa did not care. She had only room for one thought: soon, they would re-enter Hogwarts and she would find out ... she would find out if Draco still lived.
'You,' said the Dark Lord's cold voice. A bang of sparks exploded painfully in Narcissa's face, drawing her attention back to the circle, to the Dark Lord, and the boy lying dead feet away from her.
'Examine him,' ordered the Dark Lord. 'Tell me whether he is dead.'
She approached Harry Potter slowly, bending over his still form. His body was warm, still warm with the life that had only just been snuffed from it. She touched his face and felt the faintest sensation of a breath.
Shocked, Narcissa almost jumped, but she forced herself to continue prodding at Potter, checking his eyes, sliding her hands down his chest to where his heart lay beating inside his ribs.
He was alive.
Potter, whom the Dark Lord had just cast the killing curse on, was alive.
Narcissa felt her own heart thrumming painfully again. Her mind was racing -- what did this mean for her, if Potter continued to live, if Potter continued to fight ... if Avada Kedavra could not fell him? What did it mean for Draco, trapped in the castle, if the fighting did not end?
Yet Potter was obviously attempting to feign death. What would it mean if she gave him away?
What would happen if she lied?
She could do it, she thought. She would do it if it would save Draco ...
But first she had to be certain.
Bending low over Potter's face, letting her hair fall like a shield over his face, she breathed into his ear, 'Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?'
Her decision was made the moment the first syllables of his answer formed: 'Yes.'
Narcissa straightened up and uttered the words with conviction, 'He is dead!'
And amidst the cheering, stamping, and celebration around her, Narcissa felt a beacon of hope, triumph, and oddly, absolution, flare inside her. She would not know until much later the full repercussions of her words, nor would she ever properly understand how Potter made out that her pronouncement had brought about the end of the war. But as she took her place beside Lucius and he squeezed her clammy hands, she knew a sense of completion. Once she had sacrificed this boy; now she saved him -- all for the sake of her own son. The prophecy had at last come full circle.
With the greatest sacrifice
Mother's love will save all.
Author: shiiki
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Lily/James, Lucius/Narcissa, but mostly gen
Fandom: Harry Potter
Word Count: 7,164
Summary: Two mothers, two sons, two prophecies.
Notes: This was written for kelleypen in the 2009/2010 hp_canon_fest. Much thanks to my beta, katieay!
Link to fic at hp_canon_fest
i. the pensieve
November 1, 1979
Lily wasn't even two minutes in the Ministry before she wished she could have stayed home. Her head was still throbbing from the aftermath of yesterday's Hallowe'en party, and the nausea she'd felt during breakfast hadn't helped. James (who had been way too perky for someone who had seemed even more pissed than she had been last night) had suggested she take the day off, but Lily knew it wasn't going to be possible.
Her boss was cold enough towards her as it was; Lily suspected Rookwood had contested her appointment to the department when Tiberius Ogden had offered her the position and was just waiting for an opportunity to sack her. She wasn't going to earn any brownie points with him by Floo-ing in sick thanks to a hangover.
Not that her prompt appearance at the Department of Mysteries seemed to do her any favours. Rookwood barely glanced at her when she greeted him.
'Get on with your work,' he growled distractedly, scowling as he so often was whenever she approached him.
'Grouchy git,' Lily muttered under her breath as she hurried away to the Room of Time, where she was currently posted.
It was a narrow, elongated room illuminated by a sparkling light from a large bell jar at the far end, the purpose of which was to examine the circular nature of time. Tables were lined up along the walls, on which hung a large variety of clocks, whose pleasant, ticking noise gave the room a perpetual rhythmic hum. Lily made for one of the tables with rounded edges, leaving the door slightly ajar for her colleague, Dorcas Meadowes, to enter later.
At the moment, Lily's work centred around an unusual artefact that had recently surfaced in one of the periodic departmental clean-ups. It appeared to be a Pensieve, large and bowl-shaped with intricate carvings on its surface and containing a shallow pool of a wispy substance, neither air nor liquid, that would not spill even when tipped over. However, preliminary investigations had determined that the substance within were not memories -- at least, not conventional ones. The entire artefact did not function the way a Pensieve would. Attempts to use it to collect and view new memories had not been successful. It was, quite simply, a mystery.
Lily's job was to try and solve it.
Not everything that came into the Department of Mysteries was understandable, of course. That was the first thing Lily had learned when she'd done her apprenticeship year here. Sometimes the learned and open-minded witch or wizard would manage to unveil the unknown; more commonly, however, mysteries that arrived remained just so.
This Pensieve-ish artefact might fall into the latter category ... or it might turn out to be something extraordinary. Lily had studied the carvings around it and identified some of them as runes dating back a thousand years. It had taken a while to decipher them, but Lily was now reasonably sure they read:
To preserve the secrets through time.
If this was indeed a Pensieve once used by the Druids, perhaps they had some special method of extracting their memories. Perhaps that silky pool inside was a memory preserved in time all this while, bearing information of old magic long-forgotten.
There might even be something that would be of use in fighting the damnable war against Voldemort right now.
With that last thought, Lily pushed her hair behind her ears and rolled up the sleeves of her robes, willing herself to work past her headache. Holding her wand steady, she directed it towards the basin.
'All right,' she muttered to herself. 'Fluos maxima.'
It was a spell she and Dorcas had worked on the previous week. They hoped that altering the physical state of the substance in the basin might allow it to be collected. At first there did not seem to be any effect, but then slowly, a thin mist began to rise from the bowl.
'Strange,' murmured Lily. She'd intended the end result to be liquid, rather than gas. She considered the mist, which was a very pale pink, for a while, then reached for a vial and cautiously swished her wand towards the opening.
The pink mist hovered over the basin. It seemed to ooze a sense of complacency, as if to say, 'I'm not budging an inch.'
Within the mist, something moved. Lily came a little closer to it to try and make out what it was. The profile of a face, a little distorted ... pale, thin ... a woman, she thought.
Lily drew back suddenly, realising that she was not seeing someone inside the mist, but through it.
'Dorcas?' she said, craning her head to the side to see the gap in the door clearer.
There was no answer, not from Dorcas or any of her other colleagues, but the person watching through the gap in the door jerked and pushed it open wider. Lily caught sight of a thin, pointed face with an upturned nose, framed by blonde curls, before the woman disappeared quickly from the door.
'Finite,' said Lily sharply, ending the spell. The mist sank docilely back into the basin. Lily then marched around the basin towards the door and flung it open.
It had been a while since she'd seen that particular face, but she was fairly sure she recognised it. If she was correct, that face -- and its owner -- had no business in the Department of Mysteries.
Unbeknownst to her, while she went to confront the trespasser, the pink mist rose from the basin again, flushed a deeper shade, and started to creep away from it ...
Lily flung the door wide open and held her wand at the intruder, whose back was now to her. 'What do you think you're doing here?' she said sternly. 'You're not authorised. Leave now.'
The witch turned around, showing herself to be, indeed, Narcissa Malfoy. She drew herself up haughtily and stared down her nose at Lily. It was a stare that Lily recalled from her earlier days at Hogwarts: the sneering look of a pure-blood witch who believed Lily to be worth less than the mud on the heel of her sole.
For a moment both of them stared defiantly at each other. Then a feeling of breathlessness swept over Lily -- she gasped and nearly stumbled -- followed by the sensation of falling through the air. She looked down, startled, to see a faint pink mist curling around her ankles, deepening in colour until it became a deep red.
She looked up again into Narcissa; she appeared quite as shocked as Lily. Without warning, the world around them dissolved into blackness. Through it they fell, the air whooshing upwards.
They landed without the jarring sensation of touching ground, yet it was more disconcerting than falling out of the sky might be. The world seemed to just appear out of nowhere around them, grassy earth materialising beneath their feet with no impact whatsoever. Lily glanced around shakily.
She was in the middle of a stone circle, beside a large pile of leaves and branches that seemed to have been built up on purpose. There were people surrounding her, drawing closer. Although the only light came from the moon and stars shining down on them, Lily could make out their strange attire: they were garbed in a fringed sort of cloth, cinched at the waist with criss-crossing belts. All of them seemed to be staring at her and Narcissa, looking slightly awestruck.
'Where the hell are we?' Narcissa hissed frantically. She had her hands both pressed against her stomach, as though she'd been punched in the gut.
'I -- I'm not sure. It's --' Lily cast a worried look at the people around her. 'A memory?' she said uncertainly. Though these people seemed to notice them, and all the memories she'd worked with before had always rendered her an invisible observer. Then again, if she was in the Pensieve ... well, she already knew it wasn't a normal Pensieve.
Narcissa let out a mirthless laugh, as though to imply that Lily knew nothing of what she spoke.
'Not a normal memory,' Lily hissed. She looked at the approaching wizards. 'We come in peace,' she said, pocketing her wand and holding up her hands, hoping to indicate that she meant no harm.
One of the wizards stepped out of the circle surrounding them and bowed to her. He was tall and grey-bearded, and leaned on a staff as though relying on it for balance. The wizard came up to them and raised his left hand towards Lily's face. Uncertain, she drew back, but he only touched a lock of her hair.
The wizard spoke then, but it was in a language Lily could not understand. The tone, however, sounded amazed. He turned to Narcissa and reached out to touch her as well; Narcissa recoiled. The wizard paused dropped his hand, and turned away from them. He spoke once more, addressing the circle of people surrounding them. At the end of his speech he raised both his hands, including the staff in his right hand.
As he did so, a flare burst out in the distance, sending flickering light dancing across the starry night sky. As though it was a signal the others in the circle had been waiting for, they began to move counter-clockwise around Lily, Narcissa, and the wizard in the centre. He raised his hands over the huge pile next to them and without warning, flames leapt from the kindling, flaring up into the dark.
In unison, everyone except Lily and Narcissa began to chant. Although Lily could not decipher any of these words either, the context of the situation started to become clear to her. This was obviously a ritual, and very likely from a place -- or more likely, time -- where a different language was spoken. And something else clicked in her mind: it was Samhain today -- All Hallows Day, which although was mostly forgotten in their own time, had been believed in ancient times to be the most magically sensitive time of the year. The Pensieve must have been some sort of portal between times, activated thanks to the fluidity of time on this very day. It had landed them here, in a time where Samhain rituals were still a part and parcel of life.
And among the wizards and witches of this time ... the druids.
The chanting grew louder and louder, and Lily was sure several phrases were being repeated now, even if she didn't know what they meant. The flames from the bonfire seemed to leap higher with every word, its heat scorching and making Lily's eyes water. At the height of the crescendo of voices, a witch stepped forward out of the circle, moving dreamily towards the centre as though sleepwalking. Her face was covered in a strange paste-like substance that glowed orange in the firelight.
Watching her, neither Lily nor Narcissa noticed the first wizard thump his staff against the ground again until they heard the dull thud. It was unquestionably a spell, as Lily found her feet rooted to the ground, her entire body frozen as though by Petrificus Totalus. Immobile, she could not prevent the witch from approaching and smearing some of the paste from her cheek onto Lily's, then Narcissa's. It was sticky but oddly cool against her skin. The witch then closed her eyes and held her hands out to the heavens.
It was a shock when words issued from the witch's mouth, words in English, delivered in a harsh tone with a tinny quality to the words, as though being drawn through the witch from someplace far away.
'Child to be born
With destinies entwined
The fate of one
To be tied to the other.'
She touched one hand to Lily's stomach, the other to Narcissa's. Lily felt a flutter, as though of butterflies, rise inside her.
'Destined for greatness
Destined to serve
The child carried within
Tribulations to face.'
It seemed like a prophecy, Lily thought, a prophecy made about the children she and Narcissa were carrying. How could it be, though? She wasn't pregnant.
'Mothers both now
Protections to wield
With the greatest sacrifice
Mother's love will save all.'
A ringing silence followed this pronouncement, broken only by the crackle of flame. Then whispers began to travel around the circle of people like a rustling wind. The wizard with the staff said an unknown word loudly, and it died away.
The prophesying witch seemed to awaken from a trance. Her eyes drew slowly open and she withdrew her hands from Lily and Narcissa. From a fold inside the flowing tunic she wore, she revealed a curved silver dagger. Its sharp point gleamed in the firelight.
At the sight of it, Lily's confusion was swept away, to be replaced by a cold, seeping horror. There was a dagger like that in the Department of Mysteries; she had seen it during her apprenticeship, studied by those in the division for Death.
A ceremonial dagger, believed to be used in sacrificial rituals.
The witch drew nearer, raising the dagger in her hands. Lily strained desperately against the Body-Bind, willing it to break. She thought the counter-curse furiously, felt a sudden burst of power, and suddenly her limbs were free. The advancing witch was thrown backwards before Lily could properly draw her wand and cast Protego, which was on the tip of her tongue.
Time appeared to stand still. The witch did not rise. None of the other druids were moving. Lily glanced at Narcissa, wondering if she had managed to hex them all, but Narcissa looked as stunned as she did and her wand was only half-raised.
Whatever it was, it was affecting more than just the druids. The moon and stars above seemed to be fading into the night sky, as though being snuffed out. Grey fog started to surround them, making the druids harder to see as it thickened.
And then a great, bellowing voice boomed out, startling Narcissa into a scream.
'Lily! Lily! Lily!'
James? What would he be doing here?
A female voice, then, calmer and stronger: 'Lily, do you hear us?'
A wave of relief swept of Lily. 'Yes! Dorcas, is that you?'
'I hear something,' said Dorcas, still sounding as though she was under a Sonorus Charm. 'I'll send this along, I think it's stable enough ...'
'Just get her out of there,' boomed James.
The air around them seemed to vibrate. In the sky -- or where the sky should have been; there was nothing but black all around now, such that Lily could barely see her own body -- a pinprick of light appeared and started to move downwards towards them. As it came closer, Lily realised it was elongated, a long, thin, shining rope snaking down from out of the sky. Dorcas had sent her a way out!
When it was dangling above their heads illuminating both their faces, she reached up and grabbed it. There was a sharp jerk beneath her navel, like the hook of a Portkey, and the next moment, she landed hard on the stone floor of the Department of Mysteries. James's strong arms were around her in a flash.
'Merlin's balls, Lily, I thought you'd got yourself trapped!'
'I'm fine,' she said briskly, brushing herself off when he let her go. She turned her attention to the Pensieve, which appeared to have spat her out back in the Room of Time again. The Pensieve was vibrating and emitting a strange humming noise.
'I think it's destabilising,' said Dorcas. The shining rope was retracting back into her wand.
'You need to send the rope in again, then. Narcissa Malfoy is still inside there!'
'What?'
'Hurry, Dorcas!'
Dorcas wasted no more time. She sent her rope back down into the Pensieve, which shuddered harder than ever, as though the insubstantial-looking rope was going to split it into pieces.
'Narcissa!' Lily called, hoping she could hear. 'Narcissa, you have to grab it. Grab the rope, it'll get you out of the Pensieve, go on.'
There was a bright flash of light, a dark shape came flying out of the Pensieve, and then it shattered into a million pieces, seconds after Narcissa Malfoy had emerged from it. Lily's hands flew up instinctively to shield her face from the flying pieces, but no broken shards stung her skin.
'Damn!' said Dorcas. 'That's the end of that, then.'
'Seriously, what were you thinking, jumping into something like that?' said James almost at the same time. Lily glared at him.
'James, this is my job. I --'
'Indeed it is, Mrs Potter, and I do hope you are not about to breach your contract employment any further with careless words. ' Lily jumped as the low voice of Rookwood announced his arrival. Rookwood surveyed the scene before him with an impassive gaze: Lily, Dorcas, their work splintered in shards across the floor, and James and Narcissa -- two outsiders who were strictly forbidden to enter the department without permission.
'Mr Rookwood, I can --'
'Explain, no doubt, and I certainly expect a full report by the end of the day. Until I have had a chance to consider it, however, you are suspended.'
Lily felt her jaw fall open. A protest bubbled up inside her -- it's not fair, I was doing my job, that woman just wandered in -- but the words were trapped, tripping over themselves as they rose in her throat.
It was James who spoke first on her behalf. 'On what grounds?' he said angrily.
Rookwood's eyes narrowed at James. 'I am not at liberty to discuss the terms of service of the Department of Mysteries with an outsider. Especially one who is trespassing on secure Ministry grounds.'
'You can't suspend her without hearing her side first, that's violating her rights as an employee!'
'James, it's okay,' Lily said quickly, realising that he was building up steam for a fight, which would not help matters much. She would have to talk to Rookwood, and Dorcas would back her up, surely, but none of it could be done with James and Narcissa in attendance.
'No, it bloody well is not! Are you just going to stand there and take this?' His voice rose in volume with every word.
'You're not helping,' Lily said, trying to sound calm even as she felt Rookwood's hard eyes bore into her head.
'Someone needs to stick up for you if you won't do it for yourself!'
'James, this is not the time nor place! Leave!'
James gaped at her for a second. 'Fine,' he said at last. He opened his mouth to say something else, appeared to think the better of it, and simply said, 'fine,' again before turning on his heel and marching out the door. His voice echoed back from the dark hallway outside.
'How the hell do I get out?'
Rookwood snorted disdainfully. Finally turning away from Lily, he looked at Narcissa, who had got demurely to her feet.
'Mrs Malfoy,' he said, and though his voice was still calm, it was less cool. 'Your husband is waiting in the corridor outside the courtrooms. He was extremely worried when I saw him -- concerned, I believe, about your whereabouts. Now, I do not know how or why you have entered the Department of Mysteries, but I will reserve judgement until I have heard the full details from my employees.'
'Thank you, Mr Rookwood,' said Narcissa prettily. She and Rookwood exchanged a look of understanding, and Lily wondered suddenly if this entire incident had been staged by Rookwood himself. But no, he couldn't have planned that bit with the Pensieve ...
'Miss Meadowes, you will please escort Mrs Malfoy and --' his nose wrinkled distastefully '-- Mr Potter out of the department, after which you will report to my office for an inquiry.'
Dorcas shot Lily a half-sympathetic, half-worried glance before turning to Narcissa and saying, 'This way, please, Mrs Malfoy.'
Once they had gone, Lily tried to launch into her explanation. 'Sir, I --'
'You would be better served in clearing up this mess and attending to your report of the incident, Mrs Potter.'
'But, Mr Rookwood --'
'Did I not make myself quite clear?' His pockmarked face screwed up ferociously at her. Lily opened her mouth, closed it again, pursing her lips together hard, and began to direct the shards of the broken Pensieve into a pile. If she could only chuck the lot in Rookwood's face ... not that it could possibly look any worse.
She didn't see Rookwood for the rest of the day, which she spent compiling her report on the events in and out of the Pensieve. Dorcas returned from Rookwood's office around lunchtime and reassured Lily.
'I told him you had nothing to do with James being in here -- that was my fault entirely, I lost my head a little when I realised you'd disappeared into the thing -- and couldn't possibly be held accountable for Narcissa Malfoy. I mean, it's entirely illogical! He can't hold that against you either.'
'Bet he can,' muttered Lily, dotting a period on a sentence with much more force than was necessary. 'You know he's always hated me.'
'Lily, I'll do what I can --'
'No,' said Lily sharply. 'Don't you get yourself in trouble with him either. If both of us lose our jobs, where will that put the Order? He is right about one thing, even though he has the circumstances wrong. I haven't exactly been exemplary with the code of secrecy.'
They exchanged long, measured looks.
'All right,' said Dorcas at last. 'You'll handle this. Are you going to tell me what happened in that Pensieve, though?'
'I'll reproduce my report. I don't really know what any of it means, but I can't shake the feeling that it is somehow connected to this war. There was a prophecy ...' And she told Dorcas about the druids and their ritual, and the strange connection they had drawn between herself and Narcissa Malfoy.
'What do you mean, your child?' asked Dorcas shrewdly when Lily finished her tale. 'Are you ...'
'I don't know,' whispered Lily. 'It could be referring to a child James and I are meant to have in the future, or ...' She glanced down at her own stomach, its flatness belying any possibility of something, a baby, growing within. Was she just imagining the stirring of something inside her?
Dorcas took her hands. 'I reckon you'll need to find out, then.' She frowned then. 'And if you are ... well, I think you should leave it out of the report. I don't have a good feeling about that prophecy thing.'
+++
James was still in a towering temper when Lily arrived home, much later than usual due to the detour she had taken on the way. Normally when James's sense of righteous indignation got ruffled, Lily would ignore him until he had settled down enough to discuss things reasonably. Today, however ... she needed to speak to him.
'James, I'd appreciate if you'd calm down. I need to tell you something.'
'Oh, I'm perfectly calm,' he said, though the way he was wearing a path across the carpet contradicted every word.
'When I was in the Pensieve,' she forged on ahead, 'I stumbled into some prophetic ritual and the druids said that I was going to have a child. Well, you can imagine what a surprise that was, so after I finished the report for Rookwood --'
James snorted loudly. 'Of course, you did up a report nice and obedient for Rookwood. Right after he practically sacked you without reason after you nearly got stuck in that thing that's your work -- but then you don't want to hear this, do you? Oh no, you hate it when I try and stand up for ... wait, what do you mean, a child?'
To her horror, Lily felt thick tears welling up, obscuring her vision. 'I mean a baby, you prat!' Her voice sounded thick as well. 'A baby.'
James opened his mouth, but no words came out. He mouthed soundlessly at her for a moment before realising he looked like an idiot and shutting it.
'That's right,' said Lily, once she'd got control of her voice again. She felt as though she was dangerous close to hysteria. 'I went to a clinic after work.'
'You went to a what?'
Lily started to laugh and cry at the same time. Of all the shocking news she was delivering, James had managed to find his voice to ask about the simpler Muggle equivalent of St Mungo's. It was both endearing and completely maddening.
'We are going to have a baby,' she said shakily. 'We are.'
The next thing she knew, James had grabbed her in a bone-crushing hug that knocked the air out of her in one gasping breath.
'Un-bloody-believable!'
And then he had released her slightly but his lips were against hers and soon there wasn't much room for talk.
They did settle down to discussion eventually, though, lying in bed that night, eyes open in the dark.
'It shouldn't be good news, not really. Not now, not with everything we're involved in.'
'It's done, though. We can't ...'
'We could ...'
The silence that followed that unspoken proposition weighed heavily on both of them. Together, they both said, 'No.'
'How will we manage, then?'
'We'll manage.' James sounded so certain, Lily couldn't help but trust him.
'We'll manage,' she echoed.
He fell asleep before she did. There was still the words of the druids that she hadn't told him and they weighed on her now.
Entwined ... sacrifice ... mother's love ...
Already she felt a strange swell in her chest at the thought of the little one growing inside her. A compulsion to protect it from anything in the world that might mean it harm.
And there would be people aplenty who would abhor a baby born of her and James's union. It was a mad world they lived in now, and the best protection, really, was to be hidden. She had just been suspended. Going back to fight her suspension was just asking to be noticed.
Protections to wield
With the greatest sacrifice
By the time the sun was beginning to form a faint pink line on the horizon, she had come to a decision. There would come a time soon that she would be thankful for this choice, but for now, there was only anxiety and a faint sense of loss.
---
ii. the prophecy
April, 1980
The dagger approached her, its sharp, silver point gleaming the colour of blood. It pointed at the red-haired Mudblood, whose fingers splayed protectively over her stomach.
'You will not touch him,' she said, and the next moment, the dagger pierced the Mudblood's breast. Blood spilled obscenely from her chest, drenching the ground where she stood, but her arms remained clutched around her distended belly. Narcissa opened her mouth to scream, but no sound would come.
'The fate of one to be tied to the other,' said a harsh voice, and the dagger now pointed at Narcissa's belly.
Noooo ...
Narcissa awoke, her forehead sticky with -- to her relief when she swiped at it -- sweat. She let her eyes fall shut again for several seconds before opening them.
She hadn't thought of her little misadventure in the Department of Mysteries for months. It had been easy to put out of her mind once she'd left. For one, there had been her father's trial, the reason Narcissa had been down in the chambers outside the courtrooms in the first place. His sentencing had coloured her world quite miserably. Mother had been devastated, and as she held Bella and her indiscrete activities quite responsible, it fell to Narcissa to comfort her. (Andromeda, was, of course, out of the question. Narcissa doubted her estranged sister even cared about the misfortune that had fallen the family of late.)
Rookwood had also not bothered her after she'd left the Ministry; Lucius had spoken to him and told her not to worry as he'd cleared things up.
'He's a proper wizard, Rookwood,' said Lucius. 'We talked at length about what a disgrace it is to have Mudbloods -- little more than Muggles themselves -- studying the deepest secrets of magic. Fortunately, that is no longer an issue.'
The Mudblood, Narcissa gathered, had resigned. At any rate, it was none of her concern. She cared nothing for her or the half-blood child she was carrying.
At that thought, Narcissa put one hand to her belly. With destinies entwined ... But what could her pure-blood son have to do with a half-blood whelp? The idea was absurd. Lucius would never allow ...
The fire in the hearth crackled as it burned suddenly green, interrupting her musings. A moment later, Lucius stepped through, brushing the soot off his robes.
'My dear,' he said, leaning over to kiss her cheek.
'You're home early,' she murmured. 'I wasn't expecting you until dinnertime.'
There was a tense quality to Lucius's smile. 'The Dark Lord was ... agitated,' he said. 'There has been a prophecy.'
Narcissa felt a cold chill run down her back. 'A ... prophecy? What kind of prophecy?' she breathed, unable to speak any louder with the cold, clenching fist that seemed to be gripping her throat.
'I did not hear it,' admitted Lucius. 'It was, apparently, delivered to Dumbledore. It spelled the Dark Lord's downfall.'
The icy grip on her insides relinquished its hold, just a bit. 'And he told you that?'
'The Dark Lord trusts me, Narcissa. You know that. He knows that we are loyal and he will reward us.' His voice, however, was slightly shaky, as though he was not quite convinced.
'What does he want us to do?' For Narcissa knew the Dark Lord's favour was never simple to achieve. There was something he wanted Lucius to do, for sure. Something that might spell doom for them, as it had spelled the end of her father's freedom when he had taken the fall for what Bella had done in the name of the Dark Lord. 'It's just a prophecy, isn't it? Those things aren't precise --'
'It's about a baby,' said Lucius. 'The threat to the Dark Lord is a baby -- all we have to do is find that baby and ... well, ensure it does not threaten our Lord.'
'Oh,' said Narcissa, her breath escaping her in a loud whoosh. She did not need Lucius to elaborate to know what he meant by ensuring that it did not threaten the Dark Lord. Her hands flew automatically to her swollen belly, her fingers splayed across it. Lucius couldn't possibly mean ...
'Born as the seventh month wanes,' said Lucius, as though quoting someone. 'Born as the seventh month wanes, he said.' He looked, as she did, at her belly. The baby, five months along now, due late in July, chose just that moment to give her a sound thump.
'There must be many more babies due at the end of July,' said Narcissa hesitantly. 'He -- it -- the prophecy can't mean our baby. It's not possible.'
Lucius nodded slowly. 'There was another condition as well,' he said. '"Born to parents who have thrice defied the Dark Lord." We have always been loyal. The Dark Lord -- the Dark Lord knows that.'
'Yes,' murmured Narcissa, but she understood Lucius's concern. Could it be any more ambiguously phrased? What did it mean, 'defied the Dark Lord'? How did one define defiance, especially to a wizard who often viewed even the unintended misdemeanours of his followers as defiance?
'It will not be us,' said Lucius, after a moment. 'There must be other parents expecting. Even in that damnable Order of Dumbledore's, if we can ascertain who they all are. Perhaps one of his pestilential Mudbloods.'
At these words, Narcissa looked sharply at Lucius. He did not seem to realise there was anything amiss, though, as he carried on.
'I believe a visit to St Mungo's should serve. I shall go straight away.'
Potter's Mudblood, thought Narcissa. She wasn't showing at all in November ... she could be due in July.
Yet she said nothing while Lucius bent down and kissed Narcissa on the forehead. 'Don't fret, my dear,' he said. She did not know why she continued to hold her silence even as he flung a pinch of Floo powder into the fireplace and set off for St Mungo's. She could have raised the matter, given him a direction in which to inquire ...
The fate of one to be tied to the other.
Alone again, Narcissa shivered despite the roaring fire in the hearth.
+++
Over the next week, the Dark Lord seemed obsessed with tracking down the baby of the prophecy. Lucius had submitted the names of no fewer than five possible candidates, although Narcissa thought some of them were pretty flimsy. The Macmillans, for example, whose due date was in April. A three-month delay was not altogether impossible, but extremely unlikely. The Dark Lord must have thought so, too, because judging from Lucius's increased terseness each night, he was displeased.
Still she did not mention the Mudblood. Narcissa could not quite understand herself why she did not submit the Potters' name for questioning. Perhaps it was that if the Mudblood's baby fulfilled on prophecy, it might fulfil another ... and Narcissa wanted her child to play no part in foretold destinies. Or perhaps it was also that she found the whole matter very distasteful. She did not see the point: all this work to hunt down a baby -- a child like her own, quite innocent and completely harmless. How could a baby hope to defeat the most powerful wizard of their time?
And if the prophecy did indeed point towards a baby growing up to challenge the Dark Lord, well, if he feared the powers of a new opponent, was he really worthy of their allegiance and admiration?
She did not share these thoughts with Lucius either. It would be suicidal -- the Dark Lord was a phenomenal Legilimens, she heard tell (Bella had often raved about the skills he had deigned to teach her), and she counted herself lucky that she hardly ever spent time in his company.
Then Lucius brought the news that the Dark Lord had requested to dine with them at Malfoy Manor one evening. Filled with dread, Narcissa ordered the house-elf to prepare the finest roasts, to spare no expense on the wine, and to burn his toes should he put one of them out of line during the dinner. House-elves, Aunt Elladora had always said, needed firm handling and clear punishments in order to produce results.
She dressed herself in the most elegant robes she could pull off at this stage of her pregnancy and received them at the door when Dobby announced their arrival. Lucius and the Dark Lord were prompt; the latter behaved rather graciously, though that didn't ease her discomfort.
'I have good news, my lord,' said Lucius over dinner. 'I have found the child you seek.'
'Indeed, Lucius? And who might the parents be? I can only hope they fit the definition of "thrice defied" better than the last pair you suggested. Or I might start to believe your lack of success to be an act of defiance in itself ...' The Dark Lord's cold, eerily red-tinted eyes swept over Narcissa, lingering on the curve of her distended belly. It took all of Narcissa's will to keep her composure and pour another glass of elf-made wine without trembling.
'The Longbottoms, my lord,' said Lucius.
'The Longbottoms,' repeated the Dark Lord, as though twirling the name around his tongue. 'Interesting ...'
'Yes,' continued Lucius quickly. 'Both Aurors, as you know. I was able to hunt down their midwife, who was most reluctant to give me any information. But I have my ways and she finally told me that Alice Longbottom is due in July. It fits perfectly, my lord.'
'So it does.' The Dark Lord did not seem particularly impressed by this information, however. 'I have heard that there has been another prophecy.'
'Another prophecy, my lord?'
'One made before this one, deep in the bowels of time. Fortunately, I have servants well placed to deliver such information from the Ministry as you cannot access, Lucius, and I have read the report of this prophecy. It also, curiously, refers to a child ... a strange coincidence, wouldn't you agree, Lucius?'
Unless, he seemed to say without enunciating the words, it is no coincidence at all. He cast another glance towards Narcissa, an inquiring look that made her blood run cold. She knew exactly what prophecy he was speaking of now.
I must speak, she thought, silencing the traitorous voice in her mind that repeated, yet again, the haunting words of the druid's prophecy to her once more. If the Dark Lord is suspicious of my child ... if it comes down to mine or hers ... if this is what is meant by 'destinies entwined' ...
'I know of another, my lord,' she said. 'A child who will be born this year, possibly in July -- a half-blood child born to James Potter and his Mudblood wife.'
Lucius's head snapped up, surprised, but Narcissa looked only at the Dark Lord, whose eyes bore into her own. 'This is the truth, I can see it,' he said slowly. 'But Rookwood did not mention another.'
'I was there. I heard the prophecy. Rookwood did not -- he will have only received secondary data, possibly from the Mudblood herself. Perhaps she concealed her pregnancy; it would be easy enough, it would not have shown then.'
'Yes ... yes. And you know and remember the prophecy. You will permit me to see for myself, then?'
Lucius let out his breath in a gasp. 'My lord, surely ...'
Under the table, Narcissa put her hand on his. She raised her chin a notch and continued to stare directly at the Dark Lord. 'I do,' she said quietly.
The Dark Lord's eyes glinted. From the folds of his robes he drew he wand and pointed it at her. Narcissa forced herself not to flinch as he said, 'Legilimens.'
It was over very quickly. The Dark Lord drew from her head with practised eased her memory of the druids, their exact words, and her unsettling thoughts about them. And then he withdrew, leaving her slouched back in her chair, breathing hard.
'I see,' he said. And then, 'you did not come to me with this information immediately.'
Narcissa bowed her head. 'I beg your pardon, my lord. I have given you what you need. Have mercy.'
'Lord Voldemort is merciful, very merciful,' he said. 'I see your fears for the child you carry; you need not fear if you plan to raise him to be loyal to the old magic, faithful to his blood, and a model to our cause.'
'We will,' said Lucius immediately.
'In that case, we shall say no more of your wife's indiscretion.' He waved his hand almost airily. 'The Longbottoms, you say, Lucius? And the Potters. Both sycophants of that Muggle-loving fool Dumbledore. Yes, I have no question that they fit the bill perfectly. I shall keep a close eye on them both.'
Narcissa let out the breath she had not realised she had been holding. It was done -- she had re-directed the Dark Lord's interest in her unborn child.
And if she had sent him after another mother's innocent child ... well, she had no doubt any mother would sacrifice whatever she could to save their own.
When Draco Malfoy was born prematurely two months later, it was with relief that Narcissa took her son into her arms. If she thought at all of Lily Potter, her twinge of guilt was brief and easily ignored.
+++
May, 1998
It was over. The Dark Lord had delivered the final blow, the killing curse that would end this battle and allow them to march into the school, Death Eaters victorious. Narcissa's heart thumped out a staccato beat inside her chest as she watched the Dark Lord rise from where he had stumbled. Several of the Death Eaters reached out to him in concern, including Bella, who rasped, 'My lord,' in a solicitous tone. Narcissa did not care. She had only room for one thought: soon, they would re-enter Hogwarts and she would find out ... she would find out if Draco still lived.
'You,' said the Dark Lord's cold voice. A bang of sparks exploded painfully in Narcissa's face, drawing her attention back to the circle, to the Dark Lord, and the boy lying dead feet away from her.
'Examine him,' ordered the Dark Lord. 'Tell me whether he is dead.'
She approached Harry Potter slowly, bending over his still form. His body was warm, still warm with the life that had only just been snuffed from it. She touched his face and felt the faintest sensation of a breath.
Shocked, Narcissa almost jumped, but she forced herself to continue prodding at Potter, checking his eyes, sliding her hands down his chest to where his heart lay beating inside his ribs.
He was alive.
Potter, whom the Dark Lord had just cast the killing curse on, was alive.
Narcissa felt her own heart thrumming painfully again. Her mind was racing -- what did this mean for her, if Potter continued to live, if Potter continued to fight ... if Avada Kedavra could not fell him? What did it mean for Draco, trapped in the castle, if the fighting did not end?
Yet Potter was obviously attempting to feign death. What would it mean if she gave him away?
What would happen if she lied?
She could do it, she thought. She would do it if it would save Draco ...
But first she had to be certain.
Bending low over Potter's face, letting her hair fall like a shield over his face, she breathed into his ear, 'Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?'
Her decision was made the moment the first syllables of his answer formed: 'Yes.'
Narcissa straightened up and uttered the words with conviction, 'He is dead!'
And amidst the cheering, stamping, and celebration around her, Narcissa felt a beacon of hope, triumph, and oddly, absolution, flare inside her. She would not know until much later the full repercussions of her words, nor would she ever properly understand how Potter made out that her pronouncement had brought about the end of the war. But as she took her place beside Lucius and he squeezed her clammy hands, she knew a sense of completion. Once she had sacrificed this boy; now she saved him -- all for the sake of her own son. The prophecy had at last come full circle.
With the greatest sacrifice
Mother's love will save all.