Summary: When Voldemort came for Harry, Lily took a stand. This time, Voldemort was defeated. But not enough for the Potters.

Leaving the Wizarding world behind them, Harry is raised a Muggle without any knowledge of the magic. Not of the real kind, anyway. But magic always finds a way, and in his final year of high school Harry is introduced to a school of unexpected and unfamiliar people. Different people. Interesting people. And one person in particular that managed to draw a little more interest than the rest.

Rating: M

Relationships: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, Lily Potter/James Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Pansy Parkinson/OFC

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Pre-canon Divergence, James & Lily Live, Muggle upbringing, Muggle technology, LGBTQ+ Characters, bullying, Muggle/Wizarding relations, First time, Blow Jobs, Slow build (really slow), Dark themes towards the end, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Brief depictions of violence & gore

Chapter 1

The cottage was modest. Not small, yet humble. Private, quiet, and unremarkable. Should any resident of Godric's Hollow spare it a second glance, they would more than likely consider it nothing if not suited to the rest of the little village. If they could see it at all, that was.

Double storey. A sparse garden with trimmed hedges. A narrow footpath leading from a gate to the front door. It was all so picturesque, from the steeple roof and panelled walls to the sleepy windows draped in curtains from the inside, that it would have likely deterred any who sought to disrupt its peace. That night, muffled by shadow and the cool chill of autumn, was no different.

Except that it wasn't private. Not anymore. It was silent, but it wouldn't be for long. The humble detachedness of the cottage that was so removed from the surrounding village of Godric's Hollow was on limited time. Had been on limited time.

When Lord Voldemort swept towards that cottage, striding on silent feet down that narrow footpath, the perfect simplicity of the brief respite from fear and war was obliterated. The cottage would never feel its comfortable ease again.

With a sigh, Lily slumped onto the couch. Her head rocking back, and she scrubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms.

"Go to bed."

Lily grunted. Dropping her hands, she rocked her head to where James sat at her side, slouching into the cushions with legs extended limply before him. He looked tired, just as she felt. His hair was even messier than usual, his shoulders slumped, and the smudges of darkness beneath his eyes seemed almost shadows of the glassed that had half slipped down his nose.

"Just a little while longer," Lily said, shifting and tucking her legs up and under her. "I think I need a bit of a respite."

"We'll have to get this habit out of him," James said with a sigh.

"If you have any solutions, then please, I'm more than happy to hear them."

Lily knew she was being short. She couldn't help it; of late, the rising threat of war, the destruction wrought by Death Eaters, and the endless string of deaths was wearing heavily upon her. There was only so much she could do to help as a member of the Order of the Phoenix. She was only one person in a handful of people that were even trying. The battles, the chasing, and more often the fleeing, were exhausting on more than a physical level. Lily dragged herself home of an evening worn and world-weary.

When she went out at all, that was. Many days she didn't even do that. The world was endangered, but for her? For her family? Her son? If Dumbledore's speculations were correct, they were at the top of Voldemort's hit list. It was impossible not to slip out, to help where she could just as James did, but the safety of the Fidelius Charm and the unplottable isolation of their cottage in was a necessary precaution she had to abide by. Abided by and clung to.

Harry was the most important thing, after all. To Lily, nothing could trump the love she felt for her son. Not even when he was being such a pain at the moment.

"I thought they were supposed to get bad when they turned two, not one," she said, swallowing her frustration. James hadn't commented on her scathing words, and it only served to provoke shame for her venting. "Isn't that what the whole 'terrible twos' is supposed to refer to?"

James smiled tiredly, his hands absently folding the parchment newspaper he held. "Harry's always been special."

"Don't I know it."

"Maybe this is just a part of that specialness."

"I think I could handle him being a little less special if it meant he didn't fight me every step of the way to bed," Lily said with a huff. Her frustration was waning, however, the vexation of Harry's bedtime routine fading with the knowledge that he was down and more often than not stayed down these days. Remus had offered to watch him for the evening to give them a break but…

Regardless of how mentally taxing caring for a resistant toddler in the midst of a war was, Lily couldn't allow it. It was hard enough to leave Harry when guilt dragged her to the warfront.

Sighing, Lily let herself fall sideways, slumping onto James' shoulder. His head rocked against hers, cheek atop her crown, and for a moment Lily felt the weight of the day seep from her shoulders. She closed her eyes, massaged the frown from her forehead with her fingers, and bathed in the simple quiet of their living room, the crackle of the fireplace the only disruption.

A respite. A break. Even after year it still felt like such a novelty. Why had no one prepared her for how exhausting wrestling with a child was everyday? They'd told her, but they'd never properly explained. That respite, that break, was so desperately needed that Lily was almost happy to fall to sleep upon the couch that evening. To drift into unconsciousness against James' shoulder and just forget for a time. To ignore the –

Thump.

Lily cracked an eye open. She was glaring at the ceiling before she'd even begun to formulate a thought. "James."

"Mm?"

Thump.

"James, I swear to God, if that's one of his toys falling out of his cot and he wakes up screaming for it, I will have to murder you."

James' resigned chuckle was smothered, but leaning against him, Lily felt it nonetheless. "Kill Sirius, not me. He's the one who buys them for him."

Lily stared unblinkingly up at the ceiling, daring another barely audible thump to sound. None came, not for a long moment, but Lily sighed again nonetheless and pushed herself upright.

"Just leave it," James said as she rose to her feet.

"I don't want him to wake up halfway through the night again," Lily said, scrubbing her face once more.

"Then I'll get it," James said, folding the newspaper he held once more. "Sit down, I'll just –"

"No, no. Sit. It's my night." Lily waved her hand at him as she skirted the couch. The birth of her renewed frustration was withheld from redirecting towards James by the resignation of his attempt to rise. He'd had a long day with the Order and in many ways such work was harder than caring for an objectionable one-year-old. There was a certain level of exhaustion that could only be felt when reading through lists of the daily deceased.

Trailing her hand over James' head as she passed behind him, Lily ghosted towards the stairwell. She knew their walls far too well for such short habitation. Hours of enduring nothing else had made each scratch in the wall paper, each creak in the steps and loose thread of carpet, tediously familiar. Lily hated it as much as she blessed the very foundations of the hidden cottage; familiarity had instilled a degree of confidence in its safety.

Slipping silently up the stairs, Lily padded on muffled feet towards Harry's bedroom. She would just peer inside, would just check that he hadn't accidentally kicked one of his Sirius-cursed toys from his bed. He'd latched onto the three Sirius had given him for his birthday with a vengeance; Lily's sleep had been disrupted more than enough times over the past months to risk leaving them scattered about the floor where he couldn't reach them should he awaken.

She would just peek. Just to be sure. Only a glimpse, and not to step inside, because he was certainly a Wizarding baby and seemed to have a knack for sensing when she was nearby –

She froze. Froze in a wash of chilling horror.

Harry's room wasn't large. Pale and stuffed with toys, a single glance from the doorway could behold everything within. The treasure chest. The wardrobe. The cot and the mobile of flapping dragons hanging above.

And the black-robed man standing right beside it.

He was tall. He loomed like a wraith. The drag of his sleeve hung long and loose. A pale hand reached, the rod of his wand extended and pointed directly towards Lily's child - her child – where he lay blissfully unaware in the sea of his stuffed toys.

The man regarded him. He didn't move. His cowled head was cocked, as though contemplating the fragility of the child before him. And then his hand twitched and the wand rose just a little higher.

Lily didn't think. She couldn't. The sudden roaring in her ears, the stutter of her heartbeat, the cry that passed her lips – she barely registered any of it. Throwing herself bodily through the doorway, Lily crashed past the man, shouldering through him. Someone cried, "No!" in a shriek of tangible terror.

The cot rocked wildly with her collision. Harry was in her arms as Lily staggered to her knees. He was waking, stirring, gurgling and then grizzling as she clutched him and all of his swaddling to her chest, spinning towards the black-robed man. The man who straightened, turning towards her. The pale hand, the pale wand, the cowl and the black draping that hid almost every inch of him…

Lily didn't need to be told who he was.

"Please. Please, don't hurt him, don't –"

Her ears were muffled. Her heartbeat thundered. She knew she was babbling but barely heard her own words.

"Step aside, girl," the man breathed.

She didn't have her wand. She didn't have it, she'd left it downstairs, she'd –

"Not Harry," she begged. "You can't touch him, you can't."

"I said move aside, girl, unless you want to join the dead."

Harry was sobbing, writhing in Lily's arms, and she didn't have her wand.

"Please, you can't, I'll do anything, I'll –"

"I said move aside."

Lord Voldemort raised his wand. He pointed at Lily, at Harry, and he didn't speak. Harry twisted, had begun wailing, and Lily clutched him for dear life.

No. No, he can't, he won't –

"Please don't!"

The wand swept. Lily screamed. Harry screamed in a mangled echo. A brilliant, vibrant green erupted throughout the room, and a wash of heat buffeted Lily before something – a dart, a missile, an explosion – struck her with full force.

The pain. The searing, burning pain.

She was blinded. She couldn't see, couldn't hear, her senses swallowed by the green light and the frenzy pulsing through her veins. She clung to Harry, felt herself scream as all that green tore apart her lungs, and then –

Nothing.

Silence.

Silence, and just… nothing.

For a long moment, Lily thought she was dead. Was convinced of it, even, though she didn't loosen her arms from Harry for a moment to be sure. With a struggle, fighting through the insurgence of nausea, through the burning, searing pain that chewed at her face, she blinked her eyes open.

The world had turned on its side. No, she was on her side, had collapsed onto the ground, cheek pillowed by the thin carpet. Disaster had exploded around her. The treasure chest had erupted, fractured toys tossed in a frenzy. The mobile, its dragons still twitching like lizards' tails, scattered across the floor. The cot was… it was in pieces. Splinters spread around Lily as though the structure itself had been the victim of a Blasting Curse.

And there, directly across from Lily where she didn't even have to raise her head to see, was…

Harry didn't move in her arms. That fact became aware the moment the nausea dampened enough for Lily to actually feel her fingers. When she did, even the discarded pile of robes that had been Lord Voldemort became of secondary importance.

A tremble shook down Lily's spine. Her arms seized in a terrified spasm, and it was a struggle to loosen them enough to peer down into the cradle of swaddling she still clutched.

"Harry?"

James crashed into the room like a rampant hippogriff, but Lily hardly noticed. Her breath was ragged as she gasped, rocking on her knees where she'd managed to push herself upright.

"Just asleep," she chanted, her voice shrill in her ears. "He's just asleep, he's just asleep, he's just –"

"Lily?"

James' voice was choked, his own breath ragged, but Lily hardly heard him. She had the strength only to clutch Harry, to stare down at him with an unblinking plea speaking made truth of her words. "Just asleep." Her voice warbled. "It's alright, he's just asleep, he's just –"

"Lily – oh, Merlin, your face. Lily, what -?"

"He's just asleep, James," Lily said. Tears burned in her eyes, blurring her vision, and frantic blinks couldn't disperse them. Her fingers clawed around Harry's swaddling, desperate, pleading, and she couldn't look away from her baby. "He's just – he's just asleep, isn't he, James? He's just…"

James stumbled into the room, collapsing to his knees before Lily and scrambling to her side. His hands shook as one reached towards Harry, towards his pale face and chubby cheeks, his closed eyes too still to be just sleeping. Lily hadn't known what fear was until she saw him like that. She hadn't understood.

James drew his wand from his pocket. It too shook as he held it over Harry, his voice wavering as he spoke an incantation and a scatter of white sparks drifted down over the top of him. For a moment, the fell, resting, peppering Harry's face like fairy dust. Then they flared blue.

James' gasping breath was like a promise in Lily's ears. She was sobbing in hoarse pants even before he spoke. "He's alright, Lily. He's – he's alright, he's just –"

"Sleeping," Lily said, hugging Harry towards her and dropping her forehead towards his own. "He's just sleeping."

"Magically exhausted," James said, his voice wavering. "I don't know… I don't know why he would be – why he would possibly be…" James trailed off, and Lily felt his arm wrap around her shoulder, dragging her against him. She couldn't raise her head from Harry to turn towards him. She could hardly move at all.

Her face hurt, whatever had happened to it. She was exhausted, nauseous, still on the brink of keeling sideways. Everything part of Lily felt pained, and her aching chest most of all. But none of that mattered. Not at that moment, because Harry was alright. That meant everything else was, too.

He's alright, he's just sleeping, so he's alright, he's…

"What happened here?" James finally asked, intruding upon Lily silent chanting.

Lily shook her head, the damp skin of her cheeks – when had she actually started crying? – sticking to Harry's face. "This is it, James," she whispered, her voice a hoarse croak. "I'm done. I've had enough."

"You're –?"

"If this is what the Wizarding world has promised for my son, I want no part of it." Lily felt her shoulders shake, though she couldn't be sure whether it was in fear or sudden anger. "I'll not let him be a part of this. I'll not let him be at risk."

"Lily –"

"I'm taking him away, James," she said, barely hearing him. "I'll take him away, use magic to hide us."

"Lily, I –"

"And if you aren't prepared to come with us, I'll leave you behind."

The thought of leaving James behind hurt more than the throbbing pain in Lily's face, but it was secondary to the fear that gripped her and demanded escape. She kept her eyes squeezed closed, shuttered from the disaster of the room, the destruction that had erupted, and evidence of her survival that she couldn't even attempt to understand. How? And Voldemort, was he…? And Harry, with his magical exhaustion, had…?

It didn't matter. Not really. Lily disregarded it, clinging to Harry, because there were more important things. There were more –

"Of course I'm coming with you," James said lowly. "Fuck this world. Fuck it all, Lily. If it's to protect you and Harry, then… then I'd leave it behind in a heartbeat."

His words were fierce, a promise, and it was that as much as the unshakeable tightening of his arm around Lily's shoulders that finally coaxed her chin up. In the darkness of the room, a darkness that seemed even deeper after the brilliant brightness of the green Death Curse of barely moments before, Lily could just make out his face. His eyes, narrowed and fierce, the thinning of his lips, the tightening of his jaw.

She knew in that moment. She knew with utter certainty that she would leave the Wizarding world, and she would take her son with her. She knew then, too, that she wouldn't be doing it alone.