Disclaimer: The characters in this story and universe belong to J K Rowling alone.

This is an idea I've had for a while. I have been reading fanfiction for the better part of ten years. The older and more mature I've gotten the more I've read and been interested in more mature stories and this one came to me at work one day.

Warning: The good guys don't always win, there's not always a happily ever after and sometimes bad things happen to good people.

There will eventually be romance; this isn't going to be a harem or anything like that. I already know how I want this whole story to go and hopefully I'll be able to stick it out until the end. More than that I hope you guys enjoy it, and without further ado here's Like a Marionette.

Warning specific for this chapter! There will be death and suicide. You've been warned.

Chapter 1 - Like a Marionette

As she brought the vial to her lips she was interrupted, "Lily… Please, don't do this." The scarlet haired woman slowly and apathetically turned her head to look at her husband; glasses barely hanging to his face and black hair thrown askew.

"James."

"Is this what you've done with the Moonseed? We can work this out Lily. The war, the war is almost over Voldem-"

"Voldemort's Death Eaters gain a greater foothold each day." She snapped at him, the potion momentarily forgotten at her side as tears streamed down her face; it contorted, her body convulsing with her sobs. "My sister was murdered years ago. Who knows where Peter is and we've been alone in this house for weeks, as soon as we step outside of the wards we'll be killed." She cast a glare at the door beyond James, "And always the crying."

Upstairs he heard it, his three year old son Harry crying. His son intimately felt both the tension in their home and the war waging on in the outside world. "He is empathetic and magic sensitive beyond his years. He doesn't know any better."

"Well we should have!" She screamed at him.

James took a step back, as if struck. "What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean." She looked down and closed her eyes but the tears never stopped. "We never should have had him."

"You didn't mean that Lil."

Her eyes brimming with tears and burning with rage bored holes into his skull and he stepped further back. "Of course I mean that! We were 20 years old when we had Harry – and look at us. Look at him. He deserves better." She looked back at her feet and eyed the potion in her hand. "We deserve better than to be hunted like dogs for our son's birthday."

"Look at me." James pleaded with her. But Lily refused to meet his intense hazel eyes. And he knew that there was nothing he could do for the woman he loved. "What do I tell Harry?" He quietly asked her, broken.

"Tell him nothing." She replied distantly.

"He loves you. And I know that you love him."

"Love won't end this war. And love won't bring our friends back."

"You have me. I love you."

Lily took one last look at her husband searching within herself to feel again. But as always came up short. "I've fallen in love with another. Someone who can give me what I want."

James' eyes widened in shock, his heart breaking more than it already had. Only two words found the tip of his tongue. "Who? Why?..."

And only one word found Lily's. "Death."

Lily's last word spoken she brought the vial to her lips and swallowed before James had taken a step towards her.

One step - she dropped the vial, shattering upon the floor, but it fell on deaf ears.

Two steps - he was running now and she turned to look at him with an unreadable expression.

Three steps - he was so close and he could already see the effects of the Moonseed Poison she brewed her eyes rolled back into her eyes and the veins in her neck and chest began to blacken.

Four steps – he could almost reach out and grab her but it was too late. She fell, crumpled like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

Five Steps – He dropped to his knees and held out his arms to catch her before she unceremoniously tumbled to the ground.

James knew that the tears were already in his eyes, threatening to fall from his nose and onto the face of his beautiful wife. When he spoke it was barely more than a whisper and if he could focus on anything else he would have realized the crying had stopped.

"Lily?... Lily?..." He shook her lightly and pressed a kiss to her lips hoping that maybe it had failed. In his heart of hearts though James knew – Lily always was a fantastic brewer. He muttered her name over and over again silently as if trying to wake her as she slept as he had done the years after they graduated and before this nightmare started.

And when James thought it could get no worse he heard the word that used to bring him so much joy – but now it only served to drive the knife deeper into his shattered heart. "Dad?"

'Please no… No no no no. Not now. Not right now.' Not like this. James couldn't have his son see what the war had pushed his mother to. And as he turned around to look at his darling Harry the rest of his heart broke. Harry stood there – one hand on the doorway in his Golden Snitch pajama pants and a t-shirt with an illustration of a bludger, the words "Beat It" written across the front.

James wanted nothing more than to shield his boy from the horror of what had happened but it was too late. The look on his son's face told James everything he needed to know. Harry would never be the same again.

For the next three years James did everything in his power to be the parent Harry deserved. He knew that his son was deeply affected by what he had witnessed in the basement all those years ago but Harry was strong. Soon he stopped crying, like he knew the two would need to be strong – for each other. Harry was a quiet boy. The two barely talked about what had happened and James dreaded when Harry was even older and came to truly understand what exactly his mother had done.

Harry missed his mother and there were times when James would hear him softly crying in his room, when he thought his father was asleep, but as a whole Harry was growing up a happy boy under the loving and watchful eyes of his father. Harry had a pale complexion, only further emphasized by his unruly jet black hair and his mother's piercing emerald eyes. Looking into his son's eyes always filled James with both love and sadness. He remembered his late wife, and knew that he needed to do right by their son.

Harry's complexion was mostly due to the small amount of time they spent outside of the house. James barely left the protection the wards that Godric's Hollow provided and he made sure that Harry never left the property. It made for a relatively lonely experience at times. But more often than not Moony and Padfoot made up for it.

His two remaining best friends stopped by as often as they could and Harry adored the visits from his godfather and "Uncle Moony." When they visited James could almost forget that there was a war going on.

"I wish Wormtail could have been here." James said with Remus in the living room; Sirius was with Harry in the back trying to get him on a broom.

"I know, and you don't know for sure that he's gone." Remus offered, trying to be optimistic but his tone said everything his words did not.

"It's been three years Moony the Prophet declared him dead after the first," James said. But after a moment he smirked slightly "but the rat always did know how to slip out of trouble." The two old friends shared a morbid chuckle and looked behind at Sirius playing with his godson.

"I'm curious, James," Remus began, and James turned once again to look at him "why did you never select another Secret Keeper?" James cracked another slightly morbid smile and shrugged slightly, running a hair through his eternally messy hair.

"With what's going on outside I can't imagine we would be getting many visitors other than the two of you and Albus anyway." At the mention of outside he looked back at where his son was, but rather he looked beyond.

The war had reached a stalemate. Neither the Ministry and the Order, nor the Death Eaters have gained much ground in the last three years. Word from the Order was that Voldemort was searching for something. And James feared that it was his son. There were incidents with Muggles almost every week but other than that things have been far too quiet. "What is that arsehole waiting for?..." James muttered under his breath.

"Whatever it is – the bastard won't stay still for long he's psychotic." Sirius said as he came in through the backdoor, hands clasped tightly over Harry's ears so he wouldn't hear the language of his father and godfather. Harry beat his fists against Sirius' legs trying to free his head from Sirius' iron grip. Harry's right fist slid too far to the left as he beat against his godfather's legs and with a rather highpitched squeak emitting from the much larger man, Sirius tumbled to the ground convulsing and grabbing at his crotch crying about "Little Sirius."

James and Remus immediately laughed at their friends' misfortune. Upon seeing Sirius' reaction as well as James' and Remus' Harry too laughed at his godfather curled up on the floor. James smiled, happy that despite everything his boy was growing up loved and cared for. After dinner Remus and Sirius left, mentioning they needed to get back to headquarters for various assignments. James and Harry both bid them goodbye with tight hugs.

That night James sat at the kitchen table with Harry, overseeing basic reading and writing lessons. School may not start for five years, but if Harry couldn't read and write by then he'd be woefully unprepared. It was Halloween night and James wished he could be taking Harry trick-or-treating around the neighborhood, instead of keeping him cooped inside. As Harry practiced his quillwork he suddenly stopped, looking up at his father. "Dad… I'm scared."

"Ha, ha Harry that's not going to work you have twelve more lines to go." James said to him rolling his eyes. Harry often tried to get out of these lessons complaining about the inefficiencies of a quill and mentioning how a pen just made more sense. To his credit, James could not disagree.

James looked down at his son and immediately changed his tune. Harry was shaking slightly, staring at the front door like a creature from his nightmares would burst through at any second. James stood up from the table and looked at Harry "Go upstairs to your room." Harry had always been sensitive to both magic and emotions, far more so than James ever had been and it never hurt to be safe. James heard the soft padding of Harry's feet as he ran upstairs oblivious to the lack of a door opening or closing.

James slowly drew his wand as he walked towards the front door prepared to look through the glass peephole. As he arrived at the door a soft click was his only warning as the door was blasted off of its hinges. James' eyes quickly widened as he dove out of the way ensuring to keep his wand above his head as he rolled so as not to break it. As he jumped to his feet he turned around and it was a nightmare come true.

There, garbed in a simple black robe with no shoes to speak of stood Lord Voldemort in all of his dreadful glory. He exuded an aura of terrible charisma and power. James knew that more than anything though, his face would haunt him for the rest of his days 'As many as those are,' he thought grimly to himself. Where a nose should have been there was none, only slitted nostrils, above which two crimson red eyes and vertical slit pupils were perched; not unlike a snake. 'Is he even human?'

"James… Potter." Voldemort could not stop the almost giddy like smile that broke out upon his face. "Sorry about the door, how incredibly rude of me, a mutual friend of ours just told me about this lovely cottage and I had to come see it for myself." James couldn't believe his ears.

"Wormtail…" He muttered without intending to. The friend they all thought dead had betrayed them. "Why now?" James couldn't help but ask.

"He didn't want to help us at first. It took four years to break Pettigrew. The Fidelius Charm is an extraordinary thing." Voldemort's thoughts wandered to the first year they attempted to extract this location from Wormtail's mind. "You cannot bewitch, blackmail or torture the secret from the Keeper. Something we learned after a year of trying." The cruel smile never left Voldemort's face. James was at a loss, one fist tightly clenched his wand, the other tightened on itself drawing blood from his palm. "After a year we just locked him away force feeding him, keeping him alive on a miserable existence until he voluntarily told us the secret. Well… Voluntarily enough for the intent of the charm apparently." At that it seemed that Voldemort's face threatened to crack under the stress of his hideous smile.

"You and your mudblood whore should have joined me when you had the chance six years ago Potter." Voldemort's mention of Lily and the manner in which he did so threw James into a murderous rage. All thoughts of conversation and self-preservation left him and he began the attempt to expel the blight of the Wizarding World from his home. He skipped completely past stunners and began casting higher level curses with every intent to maim or kill Voldemort.

James was no Auror though and had not dueled seriously since he graduated from Hogwarts. He had no need to work after graduation due to his large inheritance – supporting his family and even Sirius and Remus at various points.

It seemed that with every curse James cast Voldemort's smile simply got larger and larger. He sidestepped cutting curses and swatted arrows James had transfigured from the quills on the kitchen table like gnats out of the air. At one point James poured everything he had into a Reducto and seeing it Voldemort stared James in the eyes as it hit him the chest. James defiantly stared back and to his horror his curse had no effect on his opponent. At this Voldemort raised his wand and with no warning, no comment said one word. "Reducto."

At a speed James could not track, the spell sped towards him the most he could do was dive to one side; but it was not enough. The spell hit him in the shoulder and he cried out, the pain was worse than any bludger injury. As he looked down his right arm had just finished turning to dust, slowly falling to the ground and immediately being soaked with the blood that freely flowed from his arm, or lack thereof. James writhed on the ground in pain and for the second time in three years he heard the one word that could not have come at a worse time.

"DAD!" Harry screamed, unable to contain the worry he felt after seeing the Reductor Curse hit his father. Voldemort took a moment to look up the stairs behind him and locked eyes with Harry.

"Why, hello there." Voldemort said, suddenly turning away from James, dismissing him and stalking towards the stairs.

'No… No no no… Not Harry.' And without truly thinking through his actions, and with speed James didn't realize he could still possess he forced himself between Voldemort and the stairs. "Don't you touch him. You'll have to take me first, you won't take another step forward!" He grimaced, wand forgotten in the pile of dust and blood his free hand attempting to staunch the flow of blood.

Voldemort's head slightly cocked to the side and with an almost invisible shrug of the shoulders placed his wand against James' chest. James looked down at the yew wand and almost missed the two words the spelled his end. "Avada Kedavra."

"The green light filled the cramped hallway, it lit the pram pushed against the wall, it made the banisters glow like lightning rods, and James Potter fell like a marionette whose strings were cut…"

-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

Harry's eyes widened and tears that didn't fall welled at his eyes. He cried out for his father, screaming "DAD!" over and over, trying to wake him up. He was asleep, he had to be. But just like his mother so many years ago, he was not asleep, at least not a sleep he would ever wake from. And the realization broke something inside of Harry. The tears never fell and his screaming stopped. His emerald eyes looked up and found Lord Voldemort's crimson ones. He stared into them as Voldemort repeated those two terrible words and the green light once again filled the house.

But as the sickly green spell struck his forehead the strings of his marionette remained intact, however, he could never forget the way his father crumbled to the ground, the same way his mother did three years earlier. What happened afterwards was a blur. Harry vaguely remembered a ghastly wailing and a shockwave emitting from where Voldemort once stood. Harry's eyes eventually found James again staring at him as Albus Dumbledore and eventually Remus and Sirius entered the house. Words were spoken, tears were shed and Harry was sure he heard some shouting. Sirius eventually picked Harry up and left to take him home.

But Harry's eyes never left the body of his father.

And there we have the first chapter. Please feel free to let me know what you think!